“Perhaps this is a sufficient explanation,” interrupted Mr. Haxall, handing him a telegram.
It was: “Your reporter at Mountain Junction too drunk to send any news to-night. Better replace him with a sober man.” And the telegram was dated five days before.
Myles felt as though some one had struck him a blow full in the face.
“But, Mr. Haxall—” he began.
“This office can accept no excuse for such a neglect of duty as that, Mr. Manning,” said the city editor. “I am very sorry, but I am obliged to ask you to please hand the key of your desk to Mr. Brown.”
CHAPTER XVII.
THE BEST SISTER IN THE WORLD.
MYLES stood for a moment motionless in front of Mr. Haxall’s desk like one who is dazed. Gradually the full meaning of the words, “Hand the key of your desk to Mr. Brown,” dawned upon him. He was dismissed from the paper; dismissed for drunkenness and neglect of duty while under orders. He, Myles Manning, the son of a gentleman, and who had always considered himself one, had been drunk, and, because of it, the position which he had been so proud of, so confident of retaining, was no longer his. It was terrible; but, alas! it was true.