“That was not necessary. I did not even ask him who returned them. I knew.”
CHAPTER XIII
JIMMY BLAINE GETS A SCOOP
There were two morning newspapers in Wakely; one pink and one yellow. On week mornings half of the town read the pink journal and the other half the yellow one. On Sunday mornings the whole town read both. Jimmy Blaine worked for the yellow one.
It was Jimmy Blaine’s regular business to go out on any consignment the powers that be might send him. It was his irregular business to make news if there was no news, thereby adding to his fame and bulging out his weekly pay envelope. While the Major was telling his tale Mrs. Trescott was the only one to notice how shiny Jimmy’s eyes were and how quick and almost feverish was his breathing. Before the last course was served Jimmy jumped from his seat.
“’S’cuse me, but I must be a-hustling. No, Miss Celeste, no souffle aux pruneaux for me this evening,” in answer to the hostess’s proffer of prune whip. “S’long everybody! See you in the morning.” Jimmy was gone.
Several chuckles bubbled up from the depths of Mrs. Trescott’s satin bodice. That evening, when Mrs. Trescott made her usual weekly pilgrimage to the kitchen to speak to Aunt Maria and slip her the customary Saturday night tip she gave her an extra five cents, commissioning her to purchase the Sunday morning yellow journal for her.
“Moughty ’stravagant Mis’ Trescott when they’s allus pufectly good Sunday papers a goin’ ter waste ’roun’ here. All you is got ter do is jes’ wait a while. Major Simpson has one, an’ Miss Celeste has one an’ Mr. Jimmy Blaine is mo’n apt ter have two or three. I allus say ’taint no trouble ter start Monday mornin’ fiah at this here Mason Bluemange. If you want ter save yo’ nickel I’ll see that you gits the very fust paper that anybody gits through with.”
“That’s very kind, Maria, but I want one all to myself to-morrow morning, and want it before anybody has pawed over it and mixed it up. I have an idea there will be something of especial interest to me.”
Mrs. Trescott was right. Jimmy Blaine had not foregone the pleasures of prune whip for nothing. He had rushed pell mell to the office and frantically pounded out on an extra typewriter the whole story of Major Simpson and the shoplifter. He had named no names, thereby carefully sidestepping any chance for a libel suit, but he had so accurately described Burnett & Burnett’s that the whole of Wakely could but guess the department store mentioned in the story. The stage setting was realistic, the local color perfect, but the young journalist had let his fancy run riot where description of characters were concerned.