“You try it,” muttered Jimmy sleepily, having come to life just enough to hear Kit’s ravings. “You try it and you’ll never shave again.” He then turned over and pulled the covers over his tousled head, hoping to be lost to the world until dinner time, breakfast offering no inducements to one who had been up all night making news for the greedy public.
Miss Willie Watts was greatly excited over the article. It seemed to her very astonishing that the “paper” should know so much about something that had only just happened. At first she did not connect Jimmy Blaine with the story but when she did all she could say was:
“But how did he know so much about the appearance of the poor wicked shoplifter when Major Simpson did not tell him any more than he did me? And how did he know the widow was handsome and dashing, the one who made the doughnuts and coffee? Major Simpson never said so in so many words. Ah me! All widows are handsome and dashing, it seems. I wonder if this won’t make the poor Major sick. I hope he won’t die—” and then she began dreaming of his tombstone and how it would look:
“Major Sylvester Simpson, beloved husband of Wilhelmina—” etc.
Mrs. Celeste White read the story and thought Jimmy was pretty clever but wished he had mentioned that the doughty hero lived at Maison Blanche.
“A very good chance for some free advertising and I might just as well have had it,” she grumbled. “Young people seem never to think of such things.”
The Major read the whole paper before he came to the part of the magazine section which carried his story. It was his custom to have breakfast in his room on Sunday morning so that he might take his ease before making the elaborate toilet he felt to be necessary for one whose duty and pleasure it was to pass the plate in church.
“What’s this? What’s this?” he cried, glaring excitedly at Jimmy’s lurid headlines. “Story of Seductive Shoplifter—dashing widow—doughnuts and coffee—pink parasol—reunited after years of sad separation—Ahem—handsome detective—Tracked to her lair shop girl returns purloined articles! All will be forgiven and beautiful maiden will continue her labor at large department store so popular in the city of Wakely. Of course her identity will remain a secret—no person but the wily detective and the generous employer being aware of her identity.” The poor man groaned aloud and let his second cup of coffee get chilled.
“Who, who can have done this? Ah—that wretched Jimmy Blaine! I forgot he was connected with the press. This vile sheet has always disgusted me. I never intend to read it again,” and then the old gentleman settled himself to con every word of Jimmy’s scoop. He found it rather pleasant to be written up as handsome and gallant, and the romance between himself and the Mrs. Leslie hinted at in the article was on the whole quite gratifying.
“But the Burnetts! What will they think?” While no names were mentioned there could be little doubt of the identity of the persons in the story.