"Good work, kid!" he applauded. "Been following you and you're doing well. Lemme take a paper a second. Yes, I thought so! You're leaving out the biggest scoop on the sheet! Here, give them a laugh on this 'Chasing Wrinkles.' How did you come to slide over it and not bump enough to wake you up? Get on this sub-line, 'Males seeking beauty doctors to renew youth.'"
"How would you cry it?" asked the boy.
"Aw looky! Looky! Looky!" Mickey shouted, holding his side with one hand and waving a paper with the other. "All the old boys hiking to the beauty parlours. Pinking up the glow of youth to beat Billie Burke. Corner on icicles; Billie gets left, 'cause the boys are using all of them! Oh my! Wheel o' time oiled with cold cream and reversed with an icicle! Morning paper! Tells you how to put the cream on your face 'stead of in the coffee! Stick your head in the ice box at sixty, and come out sixteen! Awah get in line, gentlemen! Don't block traffic!"
When the policemen scattered the crowd Mickey's substitute had not a paper remaining. With his pocket full of change he was running to the nearest stand for a fresh supply. Mickey went with him and watched with critical eye while the boy tried a reproduction of what he called "a daily scream!" The first time it was rather flat.
"You ain't going at it right!" explained Mickey. "'Fore you can make anybody laugh on this job, you must see the fun of life yourself. Beauty parlours have always been for the Swell Dames and the theatre ladies, who pink up, while their gents hump to pay the bill. You ought always take one paper home, and read it, so you know what's going on in the world. Now from what I've read, I know that the get-a-way of the beauty parlours is cold cream. And one of the show ladies the boys are always wild over told the papers long ago 'bout how she used icicles on her face to pink it up. Now if you'd a-knowed this like you should, the minute you clapped your peepers on that, 'Chasing Wrinkles,' you'd a-knowed where your laugh came in today, like I've told you over and over you must get it. Bet Chaffner put that there on purpose for me. Which same gives me an idea. You been calling the Hoc de Geezer war, and the light-weight champeen of Mexico, and 'the psychological panic' something fine; but did you sell out on them? Not on your topknot! You lost your load on the scream. Get the joke of life soaked in your system good. On this, you make yourself see the plutes, and the magnates, and the city officials leaving their jobs, and hiking to the beauty parlours, to beat the dames at their daily stunt of being creamed and icicled and—it's funny! When it's so funny to you that you just howl about it, why it's catching! Didn't you see me catch them with it? Now go on and do it again, and get the scream in."
The boy began the cry with tears of laughter in his eyes. He kept it up as he handed out papers and took in change. Satisfied, Mickey called to him: "Tell your sire it's all over but polishing the silver."
He started down the street glancing at clocks he was passing, with nimble feet threading the crowds until he reached the Herald office; there he dodged in and making his way to the editorial desk he waited his chance. When he saw an instant of pause in the work of the busy man, he started his cry: "Morning papers! I like to sell them!" and so on to the "Chasing Wrinkles." There because he was excited, for he knew that his reception would depend on how good a laugh he gave them, Mickey outdid himself. Reporters waiting assignments crowded around him; Mr. Chaffner beckoned, and Mickey stepped to him.
"Found it all right, did you, young man?"
"The scream lifted the load!" cried Mickey. "War, and waste, and wickedness, didn't get a look in."
"I thought you'd like that!" laughed the editor.