“It’s a shame to spoil good paper by putting my ugly phiz upon it,” said Joe, getting redder still.
“Ugly!” exclaimed Mabel, warmly. “I think it’s just——”
She checked herself as though she had gone too far, and now it was her turn to blush.
“What do they say about the great Mr. Matson in today’s papers?” she asked lightly. “I haven’t seen a copy yet. Have you got one? I’d like to see it, if you have.”
Her wish was a command and Joe went to his seat returning with the paper. She turned to the sporting page and her eye fell upon the picture of Joe in the lumber yard.
“Why, what’s this?” she asked, wonderingly.
“Oh, it’s a little thing that happened in Riverside,” answered Joe. “The newspapers got hold of it and are making a mountain out of a molehill.”
With quickening curiosity, Mabel read the account from beginning to end. When she had finished she looked up at Joe, and there was something in her eyes that Joe had longed to see there, something that made his heart give a wild leap.
“Goldsboro,” shouted the brakeman, putting his head in the door. “All out for Goldsboro!”