The Stolen Story
The rest of the reporters had heard the impatient calling and wondered for a second or two what big piece of news had come in, but did not look up from their work. But one of the copy-readers exclaimed, "Hello! there's Billy Woods."
"Come here, Mr. Harwood," Stone was saying in a quick voice. Haskill was already there, looking with dumb amazement in his superior's face. Jones was there too.
"Now listen," said Stone. He had formed his plan and now sat on the edge of the desk. "Woods left our staff to-day, as you know. Since then he has run across the beat of the year and has walked into our office and is writing it now"
"Oh, you mean" exclaimed Haskill, with intelligence and then alarm running into his eyes.
"Exactly. Now listen."
"Great Scott!" said Harwood, the theatrical man, in a low solemn voice, "from force of habit, you mean."
"Yes," whispered Haskill, "in his old, absent-minded way." They both looked
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