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Updated: May 8, 2025
We laughed, and kissed each other, and begged her to say it again, and Prudence said 'Oh, if Carol could have heard that, and then we all rushed off and cried and scolded each other for being so silly, and Julia screamed. Oh, it was a formal afternoon reception all right. "And I am putting a little three-line ad in the morning Tribune.
She got a job at an automobile place, and I was working at home. I remember the night she came to me I was all alone. Pop had got a three-line part somewhere and was bragging about it at all the bars in Broadway. Stella came in quite suddenly and almost out of breath. "'Kid, she said, 'I'm through with it. "'What do you mean? I asked her.
All the rest is mere picturesque amplification, on a par with the 'Full and descriptive report from our Special Correspondent, elaborated out of a three-line telegram of Reuter's." "Following that argument," said the Minor Poet, "you could reduce 'Romeo and Juliet' to a two-line tragedy Lass and lad, loved like mad; Silly muddle, very sad."
The sheet Senor Johnson happened to pick up was one usually passed over by the average newspaper reader. It contained only columns of little two- and three-line advertisements classified as Help Wanted, Situations Wanted, Lost and Found, and Personal. The latter items Senor Johnson commenced to read while awaiting Sang and the broom. The notices were five in number.
He watched in open-mouthed wonder at the speed with which the other reporters he counted himself one of them wrote their stories. He learned that everything written for a newspaper is a "story," everything from a three-line item about a meeting of the Colorado State society to a banner-line murder.
Conway had written his concluding paragraph a dozen times, and Bronson had conscientiously polished and repolished a three-line "personal" he was writing, concerning a gentleman unknown to fame, and who would remain unknown to fame until that paragraph appeared in print. The city editor blocked the door for the third time, and looked at Bronson with a faint smile of sceptical appreciation.
That is why it is possible to drink your morning coffee without nausea for it, over the head-lines of forty thousand casualties at Ypres, but to push back abruptly at a three-line notice of little Tony's, your corner bootblack's, fatal dive before a street-car.
He promptly lit another match, and with rising excitement picked up the sheet of paper and read the three-line communication scrawled in pencil upon it: Out to-morrow. Flash-light, candles, cigarettes, and matches in box at your left. Blankets in corner. Be good. The recipient of this interesting document read it twice.
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