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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, March 07, 1914, LAST EDITION, Image 20',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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"Blake;" he told her, "must be mad
enough to tear the paper off the wall,
but I just had to stop over and see
"Of -course," she said, as if it were
a matter that-admitted of no argu
ment. "Who is Blake?"
"He's the managing editor. He
said I couldn't stop over."
"How ridiculous of him!" she com
mented. "Isn't it?" he laughed. "He'll be
pretty warm, but I guess I can ex
plain it all right when I get back."
"I'd like to tell him what I think of
him," she said.
"I'd like to have you," he assured
her with cheerful mendacity. "That's
why I want to take you back with
"Take me back with you! In two
"Call it two weeks," he urged. "I'll
resign and stay over, if necessary."
"No, no," she said, shaking her
"Two months," he persisted. "I'll
get my .vacation and come back."
"Perhaps," she conceded. "I won't
promise. I must have time to think.
I don't want to be hurried. Let's talk
of something else."
Wellington never had been so fool
ish as to think that he fully under
stood girls,, but he had thought he
knew a little bit about this one, and
he was the more bewildered in con
sequence. She began to talk lightly
and brightly of other things, and he
had to make the best of it.
He was in this perplexed state of
mind when the news of the cloud
burst came. Instantly, the news
paper instinct became dominant. His
eyes sparkled, his mind was alert,
he was considering all the possibili
ties before he fully realized it. The
tracks were down, the place was iso
lated; it would be difficult to get men
there from anywhere, and he was
certainly the nearest upon whom (his
office could rely. A train would take
him part way, and he could push- on
jrith horses or on foot.
"That's my story!" he announced
"But you're not going to run away
from me," she protested. "Why,
you've hardly more than got here."
"It's my story," he repeated, as if
he had not heard her. Indeed, he
was already planning for a photog
rapher and wondering whether he
could get any local assistance.
"I won't Jet you go !" she declared.
"Won't let me go!" he exclaimed.
"Why, Kittie, it's my story; I'm on
the spot almost. No one else from
the office can reach it. You don't
want me to fall down on the chance
of -a lifetime, do you? You don't
want me to shirk. This is a big
thing." His enthusiasm was infec
tious, and she began to-feel some-,
thing of the thrill of it. "I couldn't
keep away from it if I tried, and per
haps, you can help."
"What can I do?" she asked.
"I don't know what the conditions
will be around here," he explained,
speaking rapidly. "I may have to
come back here to get wires. I may
want typewriters who can take from
dictation on the machine. I'JI be late
and in a hurry, you know. I'll tele
graph or telephone to you."
"Will yau really?" Her eyes spar
kled at the suggestion that she might
have her share in the work and ex
citement. "I shall be ready, and I'll
look out for bulletins."
"Bulletins! Well, you certainly are
a newspaper man's girl," he laughed.
"Do your best," she urged, and she
kissed him. She certainly was a puz
Kitty's brother, Jack, was wild to
go. He was a college boy, bright and
quick, and he said he could get an
other youth who had some news
paper experience. "
"Get him!" instructed "Wellington.
"Take a carriage and hustle. IH try
to pick up a photographer on the
way to the station. ButH don't miss
Jack appeared at the station with
, two assistants, so the party, with the