THE HONER'BLE OJOY BOGLIN


One morning while Patsy was alone in her office, busied over her work,
the door softly opened and a curious looking individual stood before
her.

He was thin in form, leathery skinned and somewhat past the middle age
of life. His clothing consisted of a rusty black Prince Albert coat,
rusty trousers to match, which were carefully creased, cowhide shoes
brilliant with stove polish, a tall silk hat of antiquated design, and a
frayed winged collar decorated with a black tie on which sparkled a
large diamond attached to a chain. He had chin whiskers of a sandy gray
color and small gray eyes that were both shrewd and suspicious in
expression.

He stood in the doorway a moment, attentively eyeing the girl, while
she in turn examined him with an amusement she could not quite suppress.
Then he said, speaking in a low, diffident voice:

"I'm lookin' for the editor."

"I am the editor," asserted Patsy.

"Really?"

"It is quite true."

He seemed disconcerted a moment, striving to regain his assurance. Then