A Substitute Journalist

"A Substitute Journalist" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a reflective and engaging story that explores the life of a young woman navigating the challenges and intricacies of journalism. Set against the backdrop of early 20th-century Canada, the narrative delves into themes of identity, ambition, and the evolving role of women in the workforce. Through the protagonist's experiences, Montgomery highlights the struggles and triumphs of pursuing one's passion in a male-dominated field, all while weaving in her signature lyrical prose and keen observations of human nature. This work offers a poignant glimpse into the personal and professional conflicts faced by aspiring writers of the era.

• Short story

								
Clifford Baxter came into the sitting-room where Patty was darning
stockings and reading a book at the same time. Patty could do things
like that. The stockings were well darned too, and Patty understood
and remembered what she read.

Clifford flung himself into a chair with a sigh of weariness. "Tired?"
queried Patty sympathetically.

"Yes, rather. I've been tramping about the wharves all day gathering
longshore items. But, Patty, I've got a chance at last. Tonight as I
was leaving the office Mr. Harmer gave me a real assignment for
tomorrow--two of them in fact, but only one of importance. I'm to go
and interview Mr. Keefe on this new railroad bill that's up before the
legislature. He's in town, visiting his old college friend, Mr. Reid,
and he's quite big game. I wouldn't have had the assignment, of
course, if there'd been anyone else to send, but most of the staff
will be away all day tomorrow to see about that mine explosion at
Midbury or the teamsters' strike at Bainsville, and I'm the only one
available. Harmer gave me a pretty broad hint that it was my chance to
win my spurs, and that if I worked up a good article out of it I'd
stand a fair show of being taken on permanently next month when Alsop
leaves. There'll be a shuffle all round then, you know. Everybody on
the staff will be pushed up a peg, and that will leave a vacant space
at the foot."

Patty threw down her darning needle and clapped her hands with
delight. Clifford gazed at her admiringly, thinking that he had the
prettiest sister in the world--she was so bright, so eager, so rosy.

"Oh, Clifford, how splendid!" she exclaimed. "Just as we'd begun to
give up hope too. Oh, you must get the position! You must hand in a
good write-up. Think what it means to us."

"Yes, I know." Clifford dropped his head on his hand and stared
rather moodily at the lamp. "But my joy is chastened, Patty. Of course
I want to get the permanency, since it seems to be the only possible
thing, but you know my heart isn't really in newspaper work. The plain
truth is I don't like it, although I do my best. You know Father
always said I was a born mechanic. If I only could get a position
somewhere among machinery--that would be my choice. There's one vacant
in the Steel and Iron Works at Bancroft--but of course I've no chance
of getting it."

"I know. It's too bad," said Patty, returning to her stockings with a
sigh. "I wish I were a boy with a foothold on the Chronicle. I
firmly believe that I'd make a good newspaper woman, if such a thing
had ever been heard of in Aylmer."

"That you would. You've twice as much knack in that line as I have.
You seem to know by instinct just what to leave out and put in. I
never do, and Harmer has to blue-pencil my copy mercilessly. Well,
I'll do my best with this, as it's very necessary I should get the
permanency, for I fear our family purse is growing very slim. Mother's
face has a new wrinkle of worry every day. It hurts me to see it."

"And me," sighed Patty. "I do wish I could find something to do too.
If only we both could get positions, everything would be all right.
Mother wouldn't have to worry so. Don't say anything about this chance
to her until you see what comes of it. She'd only be doubly
disappointed if nothing did. What is your other assignment?"

"Oh, I've got to go out to Bancroft on the morning train and write up
old Mr. Moreland's birthday celebration. He is a hundred years old,
and there's going to be a presentation and speeches and that sort of
thing. Nothing very exciting about it. I'll have to come back on the
three o'clock train and hurry out to catch my politician before he
leaves at five. Take a stroll down to meet my train, Patty. We can go
out as far as Mr. Reid's house together, and the walk will do you
good."

The Baxters lived in Aylmer, a lively little town with two
newspapers, the Chronicle and the Ledger. Between these two was a
sharp journalistic rivalry in the matter of "beats" and "scoops." In
the preceding spring Clifford had been taken on the Chronicle on
trial, as a sort of general handyman. There was no pay attached to the
position, but he was getting training and there was the possibility of
a permanency in September if he proved his mettle. Mr. Baxter had died
two years before, and the failure of the company in which Mrs.
Baxter's money was invested had left the little family dependent on
their own resources. Clifford, who had cherished dreams of a course in
mechanical engineering, knew that he must give them up and go to the
first work that offered itself, which he did staunchly and
uncomplainingly. Patty, who hitherto had had no designs on a "career,"
but had been sunnily content to be a home girl and Mother's right
hand, also realized that it would be well to look about her for
something to do. She was not really needed so far as the work of the
little house went, and the whole burden must not be allowed to fall on
Clifford's eighteen-year-old shoulders. Patty was his senior by a
year, and ready to do her part unflinchingly.

The next afternoon Patty went down to meet Clifford's train. When it
came, no Clifford appeared. Patty stared about her at the hurrying
throngs in bewilderment. Where was Clifford? Hadn't he come on the
train? Surely he must have, for there was no other until seven
o'clock. She must have missed him somehow. Patty waited until
everybody had left the station, then she walked slowly homeward. As
the Chronicle office was on her way, she dropped in to see if
Clifford had reported there.

She found nobody in the editorial offices except the office boy, Larry
Brown, who promptly informed her that not only had Clifford not
arrived, but that there was a telegram from him saying that he had
missed his train. Patty gasped in dismay. It was dreadful!

"Where is Mr. Harmer?" she asked.

"He went home as soon as the afternoon edition came out. He left
before the telegram came. He'll be furious when he finds out that
nobody has gone to interview that foxy old politician," said Larry,
who knew all about Clifford's assignment and its importance.

"Isn't there anyone else here to go?" queried Patty desperately.

Larry shook his head. "No, there isn't a soul in. We're mighty
short-handed just now on account of the explosion and the strike."

Patty went downstairs and stood for a moment in the hall, rapt in
reflection. If she had been at home, she verily believed she would
have sat down and cried. Oh, it was too bad, too disappointing!
Clifford would certainly lose all chance of the permanency, even if
the irate news editor did not discharge him at once. What could she
do? Could she do anything? She must do something.

"If I only could go in his place," moaned Patty softly to herself.

Then she started. Why not? Why not go and interview the big man

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