Miggsy’s first thought, therefore, was that he was being joshed by the good-looking, nattily dressed young man who thus addressed him. A brief study of the latter’s face, however, caused him to change his mind. Apparently this polite stranger was perfectly serious.
Whereupon Miggsy’s chest suddenly swelled with pride. Nothing could have flattered him more than to be treated in this fashion. He was a precocious youngster, and since the tender age of twelve his greatest regret had been that he was not yet old enough to use a razor.
“I may be wrong, of course,” the good-looking young man went on, with a smile, “but I don’t think so. I am a pretty good judge of men, and there is something about your appearance that tells me that you are a newspaper man. Am I right, sir?”
Miggsy smiled graciously. “You are a good guesser, mister; I am on the Daily Bulletin,” he said, fervently hoping that the other would not inquire as to the specific nature of his duties.
“I knew it!” the good-looking man exclaimed triumphantly. “I can tell a brother scribe every time. Shake hands, old chap. I, too, am a newspaper man. My name is Gale—formerly of the New York Daily News, now of the Oldham Daily Chronicle.”
Miggsy’s eyes opened wide with astonishment. “Gee!” he exclaimed excitedly, “I know who you are. You’re the son of the guy what owns the Chronicle. I heard about you being in town.”
Gale smiled. “Yes, my father does own the Chronicle,” he said simply. “I have come to help him run the sheet. We are going to introduce a lot of improvements, and run the paper on the lines of a New York daily. By the way, Mr.—er—Mr. ——” He paused inquiringly.
“Miggles,” said the boy. “Mister Charles Miggles.”
“Thank you! By the way, Mr. Miggles, one of our first changes will be to enlarge our reportorial staff. My father has asked me to get him some good men. How would you like to work for the Chronicle?”
Miggsy could scarcely believe that he was not dreaming. Could it really be possible that this affable young man did not suspect that he was only a fourteen-year-old office boy? Could it really be that he, Miggsy, was being offered a job as a reporter on the Chronicle?