"Aw gee!" wailed Mickey, growing ghastly. "Aw gee, Mr. Chaffner! Why you can't do that! Not to them! Why they're the nicest folks; and 'tain't two weeks ago I heard Miss Leslie say to Mr. Bruce right in our office, 'losing money I could stand, disgrace would kill me.' You can't kill her, Mr. Chaffner! Why she's the nicest, and the prettiest——She found me, and sent me to the boss, like I told you. Honest she did! Why you can't! You just can't! Why Mr. Chaffner, I can see by your nice eyes you can't! Aw gee, come on now!"
Mickey's chin hooked over the editor's elbow, his small head was against his arm, his eyes were dripping tears, but his voice controlled and steady was entreating.
"You know there's a screw loose somewhere," explained Mickey. "You know 'darling old Daddy' couldn't ever have done it; and if somebody under him has gone wrong, maybe he could make it up, if he was here and had an hour or so. That day, Miss Leslie said he should give all he had for his friend, and he could have all of hers. If she'd be willing for the money to go for her 'dear old Daddy's' friend, course she'd be glad to use it for her Daddy, and she's got a lot from her mother, and maybe Daddy has sold the land he went to sell, and all of that ought to be enough; and if it isn't, I know who will help them. Honest I do!"
"Who, Mickey?" demanded Mr. Chaffner, instantly.
"Mr. Minturn! Mr. James Minturn!" said Mickey. "He's Mr. Bruce's best friend, and he told me he would do anything for Miss Leslie, that day right after I saw you, for if his home ever came right again, it would be 'cause she made it; and she did make it, and it is right, and he's so crazy happy he can't hardly keep on the floor. Course he'd pay Miss Leslie back. He said he would. He's the nicest man!"
"Isn't your world rather full of nice men, Mickey?"
Mickey renewed his grip. His eyes were pleading, the white light on his brow was shining, his voice was irresistibly sweet: "You just bet my world is full of nice men, packed like sardines; but they'll all scrooge up a little and make room for you on the top layer among the selects! Come on now! Rustle for your place before we revolve and leave you. All your life you'll be sorry if you make that scoop, and kill Miss Leslie, and shame 'darling old Daddy,' and ruin my boss. Oh I say Mr. Chaffner, you can't! You can't ever sleep nights again, if you do! They haven't ever done anything to you. You'll be the nicest man of all, if you'll tell me what to do. 'Twon't take you but a second, 'cause you know. Oh tell me, for the love of God tell me, Mr. Chaffner! You'll be the nicest man I know, if you'll tell me."
The editor looked down in Mickey's compelling eyes. He laid his hand on the lad's brow and said: "That would be worth the price of any scoop I ever pulled off, Mickey. Are you going to be a lawyer or write that poetry for me?"
"If I'd ever even thought of law, this would cook me," said Mickey. "Poetry it is, as soon as I earn enough to pay for finding out how to do it right."
"And when you find out, will you come on my staff, and work directly under me?" asked Mr. Chaffner.