The Old Reporter
excitement—and, probably, facts—until her young head was almost reeling.
Billy automatically formed his plan before she had crossed the room; then he came forward to meet her, but not too suddenly. "Isn't your father here?" He asked this in a low tone of suppressed excitement.
"He's down town. Are you a reporter"
"But he left a letter for me, did he not? Surely, surely he told you to expect me. I sent a telegram when I started and another on my way yesterday, at Chicago, saying I would call at the house, you know."
"Papa got a number of telegrams from the West, saying various men would be on to-day" (as Woods had easily guessed), "but I suppose he thought they would go directly to the office. May I ask your name?"
"But I told him distinctly—oh, Palmer, Palmer's my name. You've heard of me, I dare say," Billy said, in a matter-of-fact way, and went on, "I told him I would call here, if he was not at the office—oh, this is terri-
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