The Old Reporter
down the street, shaking all over his body so that people on the street stared at him and smiled.
All day the girl kept saying to herself: "I believe in him anyway; even if he is a reporter, I believe in the look in his face."
She sent for the first editions of the afternoon papers. They all contained frequent mention of her father's name and a column or two about the affair, but little that had not been printed in the morning papers, and nothing of what she had told the dark stranger. She looked through the successive editions of all the papers and could not find what she did not want to find. The next morning she woke up early, tiptoed down-stairs, looked through all the papers. Then she crept up to bed again, saying, "I told you so; I just knew that reporter was a gentleman," mentally begged his pardon for having felt even uneasy about it, and got a little much-needed sleep before breakfast.
But that wasn't the way of it exactly.
Woods had not telephoned to the office because there was plenty of time for a rapid writer, like himself, to catch the first edi-
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