Stump electronic books

"Winter!" cried Mickey, his face whitening.
"Yes," said Douglas. "The newsboys always look frightfully cold in
winter."
"Winter!" It was a piteous cry.
"What is it, Mickey?" questioned Bruce kindly.
"You know I _forgot_ it," he said. "I was so took up with what I was
doing, and thinking right now, that I forgot a time ever was coming when
it gets blue cold, and little kids freeze. Gee! I almost wish I hadn't
thought of it. I guess I better sell my paper business, and come with you
all day. I _know_ I could earn more. I just sort of _hate_ to give up the
papers. I been at them so long. I've had such a good time. 'I like to sell
papers!' That's the way I always start my cry, and I do. I just love to. I
sell to about the same bunch every morning, and most of my men know me,
and they always say a word, and I like the rush and excitement and the
things that happen, and the looking for chances on the side----"
"There's messenger work in my business."
"I see! I like that! I like your work all right," said Mickey.


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