Folks always like the pen pictures of men engaged in the skirmish better than the reports of what most of them say." "Yes," said the city editor, "that's so." "Still," said Stratton, "we could cut it off at the last page.

Just let me see the last two pages, will you ?" These were handed to him, and, running his eye through them, he drew his knife across one of the pages, and put at the bottom the cabalistic mark which indicated the end of the copy.
"There! I think I will let it go at that.

Old Rickenbeck don't amount to much, anyhow.

We'll let him go." "All right," said the city editor.

"I think we won't want anything more to-night." [Illustration: "She's pretty as a picture."] Stratton put his hands behind his head, with his fingers interlaced, and leaned back in his chair, placing his heels upon the table before him.
A thought-reader, looking at his face, could almost have followed the theme that occupied his mind.