The Old Reporter
Billy drifted into regular work again in this way:
He was waiting one morning in the office of an afternoon paper to see a copy-reader he knew named Brown, probably to borrow some money from him. Brown was late. Billy waited at his seat. Twice the city editor, who was near-sighted, had been on the point of addressing Woods for the man that belonged there. The third time he snapped out, "Say, there, can you read copy?" He did not know who it was.
Billy said he thought he could. "Read these stories and keep the desk to-day."
Billy kept it for three months, and it is said that the headlines he wrote brought up the circulation of the paper.
He kept sober all that time. The indoor work was less of a strain on the nerves, and so there was less necessity to drink, and also he was not obliged to walk in front of places whence the peculiar smells called to him.
"Told you fellows," said Woods, "that I could quit it if I made up my mind to it. I am a gentleman. I'm not one of these
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