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"Dairy Detonation Devastates Desert," the alliterative Chronicle banner read; "Bossy's Blast Rocks Bay Area," said the Trib; "Atomic Butter-And-Egg Blast Jars LA," the somewhat inaccurate Herald-Ex proclaimed; "Thompson Ranch Scene of Explosion," the Appeal stated, hewing to solid facts. "Mrs.
"Wait, I gotta clippin' from the Trib in my clothes somewheres that gives all the dope." He drew some papers from his coat pocket and handed one to Billy. "Turn your back and hold up your hands while I read," said Byrne, and as Flannagan did as he was bid Billy unfolded the soiled bit of newspaper and read that which set him a-trembling with nervous excitement.
"Bean, of the Trib. They're all afraid of him." So he frolicked, ponderously. In New York he might have been called a Man About Town. And he was lonesome. He was very lonesome. So he searched about in his mind and brought from the dim past the memory of the luxuriously furnished establishment of which he used to dream in the evenings when he dozed over his paper in the old house on Calumet.
The victim recovered his hat, with the angry look of a New Yorker who has suffered an outrage and intends to write to the Trib. about it.
An impressive silence followed. Tom, the irrepressible, broke it with a slap on the shoulder and the graceful compliment "Old Trib, you're a trump!" "Thank you; then I'll take something:" which I did, in the shape of dinner, reeling off my news at the rate of three dozen words to a mouthful; and as every one else talked equally fast, and all together, the scene was most inspiring.
If I thought that any one would believe it, I'd boldly state that I slept from C. to B., which would simplify matters immensely; but as I know they wouldn't, I'll confess that the head under the funereal coal-hod fermented with all manner of high thoughts and heroic purposes "to do or die," perhaps both; and the heart under the fuzzy brown coat felt very tender with the memory of the dear old lady, probably sobbing over her army socks and the loss of her topsy-turvy Trib.
I would also have tried the Tincture of Yellow Violets, but could procure none. And one of the recentest Herbarists informs us, that the Flower grows upon the top of the Clove it self, consisting of four small Leaves, like a Cherry Blossom, but of an excellent Blew. See Parkinson Th. Boran. Trib. 9. cap. 26.
He could pick out the critics as they came down the aisle, and even had a nodding acquaintance with two of them. "Kelly, of the Herald," he would say carelessly. "Bean, of the Trib. They're all afraid of him." So he frolicked, ponderously. In New York he might have been called a Man About Town. And he was lonesome. He was very lonesome.
"That's just your luck, Trib. I'll tote your trunk up garret for you again; for of course you won't go," Tom remarked, with the disdainful pity which small boys affect when they get into their teens. I was wavering in my secret soul, but that settled the matter, and I crushed him on the spot with martial brevity "It is now one; I shall march at six."
"Bean, of the Trib. They're all afraid of him." So he frolicked, ponderously. In New York he might have been called a Man About Town. And he was lonesome. He was very lonesome. So he searched about in his mind and brought from the dim past the memory of the luxuriously furnished establishment of which he used to dream in the evenings when he dozed over his paper in the old house on Calumet.
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