"Biggest scoop yet!" said Mickey. "Why it took the police to scatter the crowd. They struggled to get papers, 'til they looked like the bird on the coin they were passing in, trying to escape the awful things it goes through on the money, and get back to nature where perfectly good birds belong. Honest, they did!" "Have you any poetry for me yet?" "No, but I'm headed that way," answered Mickey. "How so?" inquired the editor. "Why I've got another kid so he can do my stunt 'til nobody knows the difference, and I've gone into Mr. Bruce's office, and we're after the grafters." "Douglas Bruce?" queried Mr. Chaffner. "Yes," said Mickey. "He's my boss, and say, he's the finest man you ever met; and his Joy Lady is nice as he is, and prettier than moonshine on the park lake. I never saw a lady who could hold a candle to Miss Leslie Winton, and they just love to tell folks they're engaged." Suddenly the editor arose from his chair, gripped his desk, leaned across it toward Mickey, and almost knocked him from his feet with one word. "_What?_" Mickey staggered. At last he recovered his breath. "Mr. Bruce and Miss Leslie don't care if I tell," he defended. "They all the time tell it!" "_What?_" "Why that they are going to be married, soon as Mr. Bruce gets the grafter who's robbing the taxpayers of Multiopolis, and collects his big fee. That's what." As suddenly as he had arisen Mr. Chaffner dropped back, and in a stupefied way still looked at Mickey. Then: "You come with me," Mr. Chaffner said rising, and he entered a small room and closed the door. "Now you tell me all about this engagement." "Maybe they don't want it in the papers yet," said Mickey. "I guess I'll let Mr. Bruce do his own talking." "But you said they told everybody." "So they do," said Mickey. "And of course they'd tell you. You can call him. His number is 500-X." The editor made a note of it, studying Mickey. "Yes, that would be the better way, of course," he agreed. "You have a long head, young man. And so you think Miss Leslie Winton is a fine young lady?" "Surest thing you know," said Mickey. "Why let me tell you----" And then in a few swift words, Mickey sketched in the young woman so intelligent she had selected him from all the other "newsies" by a description, and sent him to Mr. Bruce; how she had dolls ready to give away, and poor children might ride in her car; how she lived with "darling old Daddy," and there Mickey grew enthusiastic, and told of the rest house, and then the renting of the cabin on Atwater by the most considerate of daughters for her father and her lover, and when he could not think of another commendatory word to say, Mickey paused, while a dazed man muttered a word so low the boy scarcely heard it. "I don't know why you say _that!_" cried Mickey.