“I'm in for it,” said the editorial writer, producing a half-dollar.
They canvassed the office and found everybody willing to contribute. The managing editor and the assistant editor-in-chief had gone home, but as they had shown kindness to Whiskers, and were, in fact, the only two men on the staff who knew anything about his private affairs, the exchange editor took his chances and put in a dollar for each of them.
“And now, what shall we get—and where shall we send it?” said the exchange editor.
“Not to his lodging-house, certainly. He'll probably be married at the residence of his bride's parents, as the notices say. We'd better get it quick, and rush it up there—wherever that is—somewhere up-town.”
“But say,” interposed the city editor, who was present at this consultation, “maybe the ceremony has already come off. I saw the old man giving in a notice for advertisement across the counter at the business office an hour ago.”
“Well, we may be able to learn from that where the bride lives, anyhow, and some one can go there and find out something definite about the happy pair's present and future whereabouts,” suggested the editorial writer.
“That's so,” said the city editor. “The notice is in the composing-room by this time. I'll run up and find it.”
The city editor left the editorial writer and the exchange editor alone together in the room, each sitting at their own desk.
“What shall we get with this money?” queried the former, touching the bills and silver dumped upon his desk.
“Something to please the woman. That'll give Whiskers the most pleasure. He evidently loves her deeply. These constant visits and gifts speak the greatest devotion.”