"Mickey, what?" cried Peaches.
"Let me take it just a minute, Peter," said Mickey.
"Wait a second," suggested Mrs. Harding, picking up a big roll that they
had knocked to the floor. "This doesn't look like catalogues, and it's
addressed to you. Likely they've sent you some of your own."
"Now maybe Mr. Chaffner did," said Mickey, almost at the bursting point.
"Course he is awful busy, the busiest man in the world, I expect, but he
_might_ have sent me a copy of my poetry, since he used it."
With shaking fingers he opened the roll, and there were several copies of
the _Herald_ similar to the one Peter held, and on the top of one was
scrawled in pencil: "Your place, your desk, and your salary are ready
whenever you want to begin work. You can't come too soon to suit me.--
CHAFFNER."
Mickey read it aloud.
"Gee!" he said. "I 'most wish I had education enough to begin right now.
I'd _like_ it! I could just go _crazy_ about that job! Yes honey! Yes, I'm
coming!"
He caught up another paper, and hurried across the room, quietly but
decidedly closing the door behind him, so when Mary started to follow,
Junior interposed.
Pages:
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700