PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
lights of the boulevard stretched enticingly away into the southern darkness. He decided that he would put on some clothes and go for a walk. But when he was almost ready the telephone again rang and he was told that the Star-Courier reporter begged a few minutes' conversation. Gordon was for refusing at first, but the opportunity to remind the public of the many excellencies of the C. and W. counseled consent.
The Star-Courier reporter proved to be a youth of nineteen or twenty with an alert self-possession and a compelling smile. Gordon, intending to present him with a copy of the typewritten tract and hurry him out, found himself again submitting to an interview. The Star-Courier was apparently less interested in the C. and W. than in Gordon Ames. The reporter glanced at the typewritten sheet and stuffed it into his pocket.
"I'll give that to our railroad editor; he might use some of it," he announced. "What we want is something about yourself, Mr. Ames. You see, the average reader doesn't give a cuss whether the Central and Western is paying dividends or going into the hands of receivers. What he—or she—especially she—wants to know is how Mr. Gordon
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