Sam shoved his hands into his trousers pockets and also smiled, but unhappily.
"I know it's not news, Sir," he said; "but that's the way I saw the story--outside on the lawn, the band playing, and the governor and the governor's staff and the clergy burning incense to Flagg; and inside, this girl right on the job--taking care of the sick and wounded.

It seemed to me that a million from a man that won't miss a million didn't stack up against what this girl was doing for these sick folks! What I wanted to say," continued Sam stoutly "was that the moving spirit of the hospital was not in the man who signed the checks, but in these women who do the work--the nurses, like the one I wrote about; the one you called 'The Red Cross Girl.'" Collins, strong through many years of faithful service, backed by the traditions of the profession, snorted scornfully.
"But it's not news!" "It's not news," said Elliott doubtfully; "but it's the kind of story that made Frank O'Malley famous.

It's the kind of story that drives men out of this business into the arms of what Kipling calls 'the illegitimate sister.'" It seldom is granted to a man on the same day to give his whole heart to a girl and to be patted on the back by his managing editor; and it was this combination, and not the drinks he dispensed to the staff in return for its congratulations, that sent Sam home walking on air.

He loved his business, he was proud of his business; but never before had it served him so well.

It had enabled him to tell the woman he loved, and incidentally a million other people, how deeply he honored her; how clearly he appreciated her power for good.