Bruce was concerned, Mickey had
a vacation, and was a happy boy.
As she came to dinner the next day, Mary laid a bundle of mail beside her
father's plate. When he saw it, Peter, as was his custom, reached for the
_Herald_ to read the war headlines. He opened the paper, gave it a shake,
stared at it in amazement, scanned a few lines and muttered: "Well for the
Lord's sake!"
Then he glanced over the sheets at Mickey and back again. The family arose
and hurried to a point of vantage at Peter's shoulder, while he spread the
paper wide and held it high so that all of them could see. Enclosed in a
small ruled space they read:
_Sacred to the memory of the biggest scoop,
That ever fell in Mister Chaffner's soup,
And was pitched by this nicest editor-man,
Where it belonged, in the garbage can,
To please his friend, Michael O'Halloran.
Whoop fellers, whoop, for the drownded scoop,
That departed this life in our Editor's soup!
All together boys, Scoop! Soup! Whoop!_
They rushed at Mickey, shook hands, thumped, patted and praised him, when
a wail arose to the point of reaching his consciousness.
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