"Biggest scoop yet!" said Mickey. "Why it took the police to scatter the
crowd. They struggled to get papers, 'til they looked like the bird on the
coin they were passing in, trying to escape the awful things it goes
through on the money, and get back to nature where perfectly good birds
belong. Honest, they did!"
"Have you any poetry for me yet?"
"No, but I'm headed that way," answered Mickey.
"How so?" inquired the editor.
"Why I've got another kid so he can do my stunt 'til nobody knows the
difference, and I've gone into Mr. Bruce's office, and we're after the
grafters."
"Douglas Bruce?" queried Mr. Chaffner.
"Yes," said Mickey. "He's my boss, and say, he's the finest man you ever
met; and his Joy Lady is nice as he is, and prettier than moonshine on the
park lake. I never saw a lady who could hold a candle to Miss Leslie
Winton, and they just love to tell folks they're engaged."
Suddenly the editor arose from his chair, gripped his desk, leaned across
it toward Mickey, and almost knocked him from his feet with one word.
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