“Are they after you again, Mr. Yates?”
“No, Kitty; I’m after them. Say, I want all the blank paper you have in the house. Anything will do, so long as it will hold a lead-pencil mark.”
“A copy book—such as the children use in school?”
“Just the thing.”
In less than a minute the energetic girl had all the materials he required ready for him in the front room. Yates threw off his coat, and went to work as if he were in his own den in the Argus building.
“This is a —— of a vacation,” he muttered to himself, as he drove his pencil at lightning speed over the surface of the paper. He took no note of the time until he had finished; then he roused himself and sprang to his feet.
“What in thunder has become of that telegraph boy?” he cried. “Well, it doesn’t matter; I’ll take the horse without his permission.”
He gathered up his sheets, and rushed for the kitchen. He was somewhat surprised to see the boy sitting there, gorging himself with the good things which that kitchen always afforded.
“Hello, youngster! how long have you been here?”
“I wouldn’t let him go in to disturb you while you were writing,” said Kitty, the boy’s mouth being too full to permit of a reply.