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The Reporter
(Paths Fr&es)
By RUTH BREWSTER
« A LL Stuff
/-\ clared
and nonsense, ' ' dePenworth, throwing down the magazine with a bang and addressing a group of reporters in the "city department" of a certain large newspaper.
"What's exciting you, Pen?" queried the sporting editor from his nearby desk.
"I just read a mushy story about a reporter who turned his back on a big scoop and suppressed a fine story for the sake of a pair of violet eyes. No one who ever knew a real live newspaper man would write such rot."
"Go easy, my lad," warned Bates, who had been on The News for nearly a quarter of a century. " 'He jests at scars who never felt a wound, ' you know. Wait till a pair of violet eyes get in their work on you."
"I bet Pen would be an easy mark," chided another. "Not a bad looker, is he, Bates?"
"I'm off to do the Wayne reception, tonight," said Penworth, modestly ignoring the compliment. "There will be all kinds of eyes there, but I'll bet the City Hall against a peanut that I escape unscathed. ' '
They were not violet eyes, but merry, dancing blue ones that met Penworth 's as he entered the Wayne mansion that night, and their arch sweetness promptly danced straight into his heart and nestled there, as their owner came toward him.
"I'm from The News/' he explained, "to write up the affair."
"I'll take you to papa," smiled the owner of the blue eyes.
"Couldn't you give me the story?" he begged, audaciously.
"I cant tell stories," she demurred; "I've no imagination."
"No imagination needed; it's facts I want," he assured her.
"Oh," she said, innocently, "I didn't know newspapers ever wanted facts."
i(The Neivs is the one exception," he loyally boasted.
"Very well," she said, entirely assured ; "let us sit here in the windowseat."
Of course, Penworth lost no time in accepting this unexpected invita-. tion.
It took such a long time to make those notes! Penworth 's conscientiousness about them was really amazing. He wrote every name so carefully ; he put down the details of the decorations so painstakingly. Finally, when it seemed that every possible question had been asked, he had a brilliant inspiration.
"Would you mind looking over the lists of names with me?" he suggested. "It makes folks so mad if their names are not spelt right."
The two heads came very near together as they bent over the notebook, scanning the list. He could feel her 'soft, fluffy hair against his cheek, and once, as he turned a leaf, his fingers touched hers and his heart beat faster.
"There," she said, at last, "you have them all right." She smiled up at him ; then, at something in his gaze, her eyes fell and she blushed.
"I must go back to the guests," she said, rising hastily, "and you must see papa. He may want to add something. ' '
She led him to her father and tripped away. His gaze followed her, and his notes on Mr. Wayne's observations were not made with the same care that had characterized the preceding ones.
"This reception is in honor of the close of my first term as president of the Elm Club, and my re-election to a second term," Wayne informed
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