There was a look of annoyance and perplexity in his face as he bent resolutely to his writing.

The door opened, and a man appeared on the threshold.
"Anything more about the convention, George ?" he said.
"Yes; I am just finishing this.

Sort of pen pictures, you know." "Perhaps you can let me have what you have done.

I'll fix it up." "All right," said Stratton, bunching up the manuscript in front of him, and handing it to the city editor.
That functionary looked at the number of pages, and then at the writer.
"Much more of this, George ?" he said.

"We'll be a little short of room in the morning, you know." "Well," said the other, sitting back in his chair, "it is pretty good stuff that.