Work 111 with Percy and Lois Hicken at the end of the but driving the 30-mile round trip each day from home when wheel¬ ing was good. During the summer of 19501 felt a desire to hail a school near Charlottetown and landed the one at sloe, boarding in the city. In that school the enrollment was low with scarcely fifteen pupils and only eight grades represented. Driving back and forth to the city daily, I never lost a day because of inclement weather, although the mud at times was axle deep and often a challenge. As that year wore on, however, my interest in teaching was rapidly fading with that one being by far the worst of the three school years. During much of the year in Winsloe I had a part-time evening job at the Guardian office then owned by the Burnett family and located in the old wooden building at the corner of Grafton and Prince. The work from about 7 to 11 p.m. consisted in answering the busy phone, helping here and there as well as occasional proofreading. It paid ten dollars a week for six nights. I had long been fascinated with printing places and this work put me very much in touch with reporters, editors, printing presses, linotype machines and various newspaper personnel. Not long after school closed that summer a call came on Mary McCabe 's phone offering me a full-time position as regular night proofreader at the Guardian. I quickly accepted the 28-dollar a week job which was from 6 p.m. to about 2 a.m. or whenever the paper went to press. That early moment every Saturday morn¬ ing found me heading for Iona in those wee hours when Island life was hushed. This full-time work was immensely pleasing as one became more involved than ever in the whole printing and newspaper process, being particularly captivated by the tele¬ type wire service from which most of the news from away was gathered. I felt very conscientious in this work even to the point of proof reading the stock-market page until a silent voice urged me to ignore that page completely and no complaints were heard. With my new employment at the Guardian, I began boarding at , a quaint structure on the corner of Sydney and Hillsboro and owned by an aging Miss Agnes Williams who had kept boarders there for many a moon. Pleasant indeed was that old house where every step in the stairs and most of the floors squeaked plaintively. One particu¬ lar gem was the little fireplace in the den that was lit almost religiously following supper each evening in cooler weather. That modest old house was to be my happy second home for quite a number of years.