no value on the—the—political weapons you accidentally placed in my hands, beyond the fact that they lent color and romance to my yarn. But the sporting editor, with his horrid trained nose for news, sniffed out my story's news value and gave it to the city editor. With the aid of a rewrite man and the staff political writers, he did the rest! They showed me the proofs of my rehashed copy, and I stormed and pleaded to have it kept out of the paper, without avail. Why, that man actually patted me on the back and promised me a bonus for what he said was a shrewd piece of work on my part. I am not shrewd! I didn't mean to be—I—I hate that word—I—well, I immediately resigned, that's all! And now—"
The Kid reaches for his hat. "And now," he repeats after her, "will you come with me and tell all that to Senator Brewster, Miss Stillwell? It will help every one of us immensely if you will, and I, for one, believe your story without question."
"Why, I'll be only too glad to explain to the Senator," says Joan. "Of course I'll go."
"Just a minute, Miss Stillwell. Was that stuff about your brother bein' a box fighter—eh—was that level too?" I butts in.
"He's going to box at the Aldine Athletic Club to-night," she says. "But I suppose now you won't bother to—"
"You suppose wrong," I says. "I'll go over and see him, as advertised. And don't you let Senator Brewster bawl you out either. We're all apt to make missakes, as Eve remarked."
Well, that night, as they say in the movies, I eased
