Hawley patted his shoulder soothingly. It was in forlorn situations of this sort that the Camera Chap’s sunny disposition showed up to the best advantage.
“Cheer up, old scout!” he said to Carroll. “After all, there’s that corking editorial of yours. Even without the pictures, it’ll make quite a hit in to-morrow’s front page.”
“No, it won’t,” groaned Carroll. “That editorial won’t go on to-morrow’s front page. I might as well tear it up. Don’t you see that I wouldn’t dare publish it without the pictures? Those fellows would sue me for libel. They’d swear that my statements were false, and, without the photographic evidence, I couldn’t prove that they weren’t.”
“I guess you’re right there,” said the Camera Chap thoughtfully. “It’s too bad that that fine piece of writing should go to waste. Well, better luck next time, I—— Where are you going, Fred?” For Carroll, muttering something under his breath, had stepped hastily toward the door.
“I’m going down to the pressroom to cancel that order for extra papers,” the proprietor of the Bulletin explained gloomily.
TO BE CONTINUED.
WORSE AND WORSE.
There was a notice in the barber’s shop window reading “Boots Blacked Inside.” A pedestrian halted and read and reread the notice, and then opened the door and said:
“That ought to be shoes. Not one man in fifty wears boots in the summer.”