“How’s that? Scoop? Give it to me! I’ll get hold of Jimmy Blaine in a minute. The truth of the matter is, young lady, I am the management but it’s policy to keep it dark when anybody is on the war path. I was afraid you were one of the wronged ladies in Jimmy’s story—but I might have known you weren’t.”
“Well, if you can get hold of this Jimmy I’d be very much obliged.”
“What is the nature of your story? Anything like the one this morning?”
“No, this one is a true story. There is mighty little that is true in the scoop of the morning except perhaps the pink parasol and the doughnuts. Would it be against the policy of the paper for you to divulge just what part of the management you are?”
“Ahem! I am part owner and managing editor.”
“Then you’ll do, but please get this Jimmy here as fast as you can so I can tell the tale to both of you at once and save time and breath.”
Jimmy Blaine was forced to uncover his head and listen to his room mate.
“Boss wants you and wants you in a hurry. He says never mind dolling up, but just come along. He’s on the phone now and Miss Celeste says it must be important because he sounds so brisk.” Thus spake Kit Williams, going through the operation on sodden Jimmy known as “cold pigging”, that is, applying a wet sponge to a sleeper’s face.
“Don’t hide! Get up and go to the phone,” insisted Kit as Jimmy snuggled down in the bed clothes and again covered his tousled head.
“Aw gee! Have a heart, cantcher? Don’t go joking me, Kit, that’s a good boy.”