"Once upon a time, in immediate proximity to a primeval forest, in an humble abode, where pleasures of a bucolic existence were profitably mingled with the more laborious task of agricultural pursuits, dwelt Jack, the hero of my tale, with his widowed maternal progenitor. Scarcely of a parsimonious nature, yet perforce of economic character, the widow was compelled to resort to numerous expedients in order to prolong existence. She was the possessor of a bovine quadruped of most excellent virtues. Her generous store of lacteal fluid, her amicable and pacific nature, and her gentleness of demeanor had endeared her to both Jack and his mother. But, alas, the exigencies of the situation soon demanded that they part with their four-footed friend, and to Jack the sorrowful duty was delegated to lead with lacerated bosom and audible lamentations their bovine benefactor to the market, to be bartered for the more indispensable necessaries of life. So Jack--" "Say," said the little girl, "when is 'ou doin' to tell me dat 'tory?" "See here," said the sporting editor, coming over from his desk, "you can't expect a kid like that to get a place on such a heavy track as yours. Your talk is all right for the grandstand, but you outclass that five-year-old. What's the lay you're on, anyway?" "Tan 'ou tell me Dack, the Diant Killer?" asked the little girl, apparently favorably impressed with the goodhumored smile of the sporting editor. "You can gamble on that, sissy," said that cheerful gentleman, taking her on his knees. "And I'll put it to you low down, right over the plate, without any literary curve to it." * * * * * "Now you see," said the sporting editor, "Jack and his mother were short on dough, and the old girl gave him the tip to sling a running noose around the hooker end of the old cow and steer her up against some guy who was willing to put up the scads for a genuine Jersey creamery. So Jack lined up early one morning with the cow in tow, and when the flag dropped he was on the three-quarters stretch for town. Presently a guy came along and offered to plank down a bag of blue beans for the cow. Jack was inclined to give him the marble face at first, but finally called him and the strange bloke got his gaffles in dead easy. Jack was a regular peach pie for a flim-flammer, and no mistake. Jack then slid for home base, and when he worked his chin at the old girl about what he had done she knocked him over the ropes in a pair of seconds. So he--" "When is 'ou doin' to begin dat 'tory?" asked the little girl, looking up at him in wonder. "Well, I'll be turned out to grass!" said the sporting editor. "I thought I had begun it, sissy," he said, "but it must have been a foul." "What are you fellows teasing that little girl about?" asked the railroad editor, as he came in and hung his cuffs on the gas burner.