“Got anything?” the city editor asked, when Felix came up to his desk to report. “Not a thing.” Felix said. The city editor grunted, reached out for a typewritten sheet on the hook, and seemed to dismiss the matter from his mind. Felix went back to his desk and sat there idly. He took out Rose-Ann’s little book from his pocket, and read in it. And then suddenly he put a sheet of paper in his machine and commenced to write. Confound it, if what Rose-Ann said about the people of Chicago was so, they would enjoy the true story of that interview. It _was_ funny. Funny just because it was silly. But it was so preposterously the opposite of what he had been sent to find out—it seemed a deliberate mockery of the traditional and legitimate curiosity of the public. If he ventured to show it to the city editor, it would probably be his last assignment. Recklessly, he wrote it. The city editor strolled to the water-tank, and back, wiping his lips. He saw Felix writing, came over, put a hand on his shoulder, and asked, “What are you writing?” Well, he was lost. There was no backing out now. He handed over the first sheets. “Thought you didn’t get anything,” the city editor remarked. “I—didn’t,” said Felix. “Where’s the rest of it?” Felix wrote the last sentence, and surrendered the page. “He said this?” asked the city editor, pausing for a moment. Felix nodded. “Just like the old bird, too,” the city editor muttered, and went on reading. He read to the end, and then read the first page again, and then smiled amiably. “And you didn’t know you had a story!” he said. “Well,” said Felix, still incredulous. “I didn’t think—” “You’re sure you’ve got it right?” the city editor asked, rubbing his chin. “Every word,” said Felix, earnest in behalf of his veracity. “H’m,” said the city editor. “With a little fixing up, I think we’ve got a nice little story here.” He carried it into the managing editor’s room. And to Felix’s great astonishment the story, with a few changes, was printed on the first page, under a solemnly ironic heading.... They were laughing about it in the editorial room when he ventured in that afternoon to see Clive. “So you had a story and didn’t know it!” Willie said delightedly. “Never mind,” Clive told him, “you’ve made a hit with Harris by letting him discover the story for himself.” Clive really seemed to think he had played a kind of trick on Harris. “The regular cub trick,” said Clive. Felix showed the story to Rose-Ann that night. She was pleased, but not surprised. “It’s exactly the sort of thing I expected you to do,” she said. He was tempted to tell Rose-Ann the truth about it; but he decided not to. Let her keep on believing in him—while she could! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ VII. Work and Play 1