"
The boy began the cry with tears of laughter in his eyes. He kept it up as
he handed out papers and took in change. Satisfied, Mickey called to him:
"Tell your sire it's all over but polishing the silver."
He started down the street glancing at clocks he was passing, with nimble
feet threading the crowds until he reached the _Herald_ office; there he
dodged in and making his way to the editorial desk he waited his chance.
When he saw an instant of pause in the work of the busy man, he started
his cry: "Morning papers! I _like_ to sell them!" and so on to the
"Chasing Wrinkles." There because he was excited, for he knew that his
reception would depend on how good a laugh he gave them, Mickey outdid
himself. Reporters waiting assignments crowded around him; Mr. Chaffner
beckoned, and Mickey stepped to him.
"Found it all right, did you, young man?"
"The scream lifted the load!" cried Mickey. "War, and waste, and
wickedness, didn't get a look in."
"I thought you'd like that!" laughed the editor.
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