"Well, what is the result of your deliberations, Mr. Boyne?" asked a brisk and somewhat seedy young man, as the boys came down from their club-room. Pulling out a note book and moistening a pencil at his lip, as he spoke, he continued, "Shocking case of depravity on the part of young Burton. Quite a small sensation, on my word. Small, small for a big city, but really sensational for Catalpa, you know. Ha! ha!" and the young gentleman laughed at his little sally. "Great powers!" was Larry's exclamation. "You are not going to print anything about this disgraceful business in _The Leaf_, are you?" "Why, certainly, Mr. Boyne. I have a lovely article written up. We only want the action of the club to round it off, give it completeness as it were, and there you are." "Oh, that would be very bad!" cried Larry. "I don't mind your saying in the paper that Mr. Burton has been obliged to leave the club, and that we have supplied his place by placing Mr. Albert Heaton at short stop, Mr. William Sprague being unable to play, on account of having sprained his thumb while practicing with the club. But don't let us disgrace the town and the club by making public Ben Burton's treachery!" A new light seemed to dawn on the reporter's mind, and he sucked his pencil reflectively. Finally, he brightened up and said, "Well, you must go and see Mr. Downey. He was reckoning that we would have a first-class story out of this. I have no authority in the premises. I am only an humble scribbler, a mere local-items, so to speak. But a word from you to the editor-in-chief, Mr. Boyne, will have its effect. Yes, it will have its effect. But that is a lovely story spoiled, Mr. Boyne." Mr. Downey, when sought in the office of _The Leaf_, was deeply chagrined to learn that the members of the base ball club were unwilling that anything should appear in next morning's paper regarding the unfortunate affair in which Ben Burton was involved. News was news, he said, and, what was more, news was very scarce at this season of the year. Harvesting was not wholly completed. No shooting matches had been yet arranged, and there was a frightful dullness throughout the county. His hated rival, _The Dean County Banner_, would be almost certain to get hold of the affair, and, as _The Banner_ was a semi-weekly, instead of a daily, like _The Leaf_, he would have time to work it up into that dime novel sensation to which _The Banner_ was so addicted. And the editor of _The Leaf_ curled his lip with fine contempt for his rival. But the arguments of the young men overwhelmed the generous mind of the editor, who, on condition that similar persuasion should be brought to bear on the editor of _The Banner_, consigned to the waste-basket, but with a pang, the highly-seasoned narrative which his reporter had prepared.