Tales of the City Room
she had been missed for a few days, and yesterday neighbors had broken into the house and had found—
Miss Herrick shivered, and turned her eyes toward the falling snow outside. The storm had raged for days; it was bitterly cold. She had taken a cab to go uptown the previous night, because she dreaded the short walk across wind-swept City Hall Park. It seemed almost incredible that in this year of grace a gentlewoman had been permitted to perish of cold and hunger within sight and sound of her own kind. The newspaper woman glanced at the page again, and suddenly a name seemed to rise from it and strike her like a blow.
She turned, to find Tim standing at her elbow—Tim, looking slightly awed, but full of importance. "That's the woman, Miss Herrick," he said, nodding toward the newspaper that lay before her. "I came to tell you as soon as I saw it; I took some of her poems to the city editor, and he is going to print them in the next edition."
The "original poems" came out in the next edition, with additional facts about the
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