It was evident that peace did not sit enthroned in Georgia's soul. Her movements were not calm and self-contained as one by one she removed the paper bags from her typewriter. "So _silly!_"--she sputtered to herself. What were the men in this office, anyway? College freshmen? Hanging paper bags all over her things every time she stepped out of the office--and just because one of her friends happened to be in the paper bag business! She'd like to know--as she pounded out her opening sentence with vindictiveness--if it wasn't just as good a business as newspaper reporting? It was not a good day for teasing Georgia. She did not like the story she had been working on that morning. "Go out to the university," the city editor had said, "and get a good first-day-of-school story. Make the feature of it the reorganisation of Dr. Hubers' department, and use some human interest stuff about his old laboratory--the more of that the better." She hated it! Were they never going to let Karl alone? Was it decent to put his own cousin on the story? Georgia's chin quivered as she wrote that part about Karl's laboratory. "If my own mother were killed in the street," she told herself, trying to blink back the tears, "I suppose they'd make _me_ handle it because I know more about her than any one else in the office!" Resentment grew with the turning of each sentence. They knew that Karl was her cousin, and almost as close to her as her own brother. She was sure they had seen the tear stains on some of that maudlin copy she had handed in about him. When she turned in her story she was unable to contain herself longer. "Mr. Lewis," she said, voice quivering, "here is another one of those outrageous stories about my cousin, Dr. Hubers. When you ask me to write the next one, you may consider it an invitation for my resignation." And then, cheeks very red, she went back to her desk and began getting up some stuff for her column "Just Dogs," which they had been running on the editorial page. When the city editor was passing her desk about half an hour later he stopped and asked, very respectfully and meekly--Georgia was far too good to lose: "Miss McCormick, will you see Dr. Parkman some time before to-morrow, and ask him about this hospital story? You know, Miss McCormick, you're the only reporter in town he'll see." "Very well," said Georgia, with dignity. All summer long the papers had been printing stories about Karl. It made her loathe newspaper work every time she thought about it. To think of their hacking at him like that--and he so quiet and dignified and brave! A picture printed the Sunday before, of Karl fumbling his way around, had made her more furious than she had ever been in all her life. She turned just in time to see a grinning reporter writing on the bulletin board: "Miss G. McCormick--Human interest story about the inner life of a paper bag."