“Why, it’s Tows! Little Towsley of ours!” and gayly extended his hand in greeting.
“Congratulations, young man!” cried another. “The hero of a snow-bank, an adoption, a rescue! The staff is proud to welcome you back!”
A third whipped out pencil and pad and demanded:
“The facts. Straight. First-hand notes keep the right color. Make another item for to-night.”
But the boy had regained his speech and held up a protesting hand.
“Don’t bother with that old stuff. The fellows said it had been in. Has it?”
“Yes.”
“Anybody else ’round—that don’t belong to us?” asked the newsboy cautiously, looking about the room for lurking strangers.
“Not a soul. What’s up?”