“Oh, I got on after a fashion. He said it was all right, and my first assignment was to go out and buy some sandwiches for his lunch.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, honestly, that was the very first thing he gave me to do.”
“Well, you have begun with the rudiments of reporting. Was that all you had to do?”
“Oh, no; I was sent over to Brooklyn to fight a mob.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I say. Look at my clothes, and this new hat that I had to buy to replace the one lost in the fight, if you don’t believe me.” Here Myles glanced ruefully at his coat and trousers, that still bore tokens of their recent hard usage. Then buying a Phonograph from a newsboy, and pointing to the leading article on the first page, which was a three-column story of the street-car strike, he said:
“There’s my job.”
“That!” exclaimed Van Cleef, incredulously, as he noted the heading and length of the article. “Why, I thought Billings was doing that strike.”