“I’d like the same thing, over and over,” Tim grumbled, thumping on his typewriter keys. He was peeved that morning because he had been sent to interview a set of six-months-old triplets, whose parents had rented a garage, though they owned no car. They needed the space to park the triple baby carriage, which was too wide to enter their front door!
“At least, I mean, I’d like to write about the same kind of thing every day,” he went on. “Then I could work up a style of my own—and followers.”
“Ah, the lad aspires to be a columnist!” jeered Mack, who had a habit of overhearing everything that was said, since his desk was next to Tim’s.
“No, not exactly.” Tim was fussed. Why did Mack always tease?
Cookie looked up from his corner. “I had dreams, too, once,” he said. “Hang on to yours, Tim. They’re mighty precious.”
Cookie was right about forgetting one thrilling story for new interests and about there always being something new in newspaper life. Despite Joan’s resolve to watch developments, she was so preoccupied for the next few weeks that she hardly thought of Dummy and the mysterious mistakes at all.
For it was that very Saturday morning that she met Tommy.
CHAPTER X
TOMMY-BY-THE-DAY
Joan met Tommy in the Juvenile Court. She had hesitated outside the big double doors that Saturday morning, listening to the low hum of voices. It was distressing how shy she was at times. She must get over it, if she were to be a real reporter. Talking to people didn’t bother her, but walking into that room full of strange, staring people did.
However, Judge Grayson merely turned his head for a second and Mrs. Hollis, the matron of the Detention Home, flashed her a smile of recognition as she stole in, tiptoeing over the creaky boards. Tim was in the back of the room, of course. The sight of reporters up in front sometimes worried the timid mothers who had come to plead for their wayward sons. “Oh, all this ain’t going to be in the papers, is it?” they would wail to the judge.