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He seems to be doing fairly well; so does the old man."
"Have you got him in training too?" asked Douglas.
"Oh it's his mug," explained Mickey impatiently. "S'pose you do own a
grouch, what's the use of displaying it in your show window? Those things
are dangerous. They're contagious. Seeing a fellow on the street looking
like he'd never smile again, makes other folks think of their woes, so
pretty soon everybody gets sorry for themselves. I'd like to see the whole
world happy."
"Mickey, what makes _you_ so happy to-day?"
"I scent somepin' nice in the air," said Mickey. "I hear the rumble of the
joy wagon coming my way."
"You surely look it," declared Douglas. "It's a mighty fine thing to be
happy. I am especially thinking that, because it looks like this last
batch you brought me has a bad dose in it for a man I know. He won't be
happy when he sees his name in letters an inch high on the front page of
the _Herald_."
"No, he won't," agreed Mickey, his face dulling. "That _comes in my line_.


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