You never heard of a newspaper that failed to appear just because the mechanical force deserted and left it in the lurch.

By hook or crook the paper must be printed--and it always is.

So don't worry, mavourneen; when your sallow-faced artist and your hobo jack-of-all-trades desert you, there'll still be a way to keep the _Millville Tribune_ going, and therefore the world will continue to whirl on its axis." "I don't believe Thursday will ever desert, and Hetty likes us too well to leave us in the lurch; but suppose those typesetters take a notion to flit ?" "Then," said matter-of-fact Beth, "we'll fill the paper with ready-made plate stuff and telegraph for more compositors." "That's it," agreed the major, "Those people are always to be had.

But don't worry till the time comes.

As me grandfather, the commodore, once said: 'Never cross a bridge till ye come to it.'" "It wasn't your grandfather who originated that remark," said Uncle John.
"It was, sir! I defy you to prove otherwise." "I'm not certain you ever had a grandfather; and he wasn't a commodore, anyhow." "Sir!" cried the major, glaring at his brother-in-law, "I have his commission, somewhere--laid away." "Never mind," said Patsy, cheerfully, for these fierce arguments between her father and uncle--who were devotedly attached to one another--never disturbed her in the least, "the _Tribune's_ running smoothly just now, and the work is keeping us delightfully busy.