"This piece is about Dick Prescott, and he doesn't sign patent medicine test-----" "Dick Prescott ?" demanded Darrin.

"Whoop! Let's have it!" "It isn't a roast, is it ?" demanded Danny Grin solemnly.
"No; it isn't," Greg went on.

"Listen, while I read the headlines." It was a four-line heading, beginning with "Dick Prescott's Fine Nerve." "There! I was afraid it was a roast, after all," sighed Danny Grin.
"Take that fellow away and muzzle him," ordered Greg, then proceeded to read the other sections of the headlines.
By this time Greg had a very attentive audience.

Even Tom Reade had ceased to scoff.
"Oh, bosh!" gasped Dick, when Greg was about one third of the way through the column article.
"Isn't it true ?" demanded Dave.
"After a fashion," Dick admitted.
"Then hold off and be good while the rest of us hear about yesterday's doings." So Dick stood by, his face growing redder and redder as the reading proceeded.
"That's what I call a dandy story," declared Greg as he finished reading.
"Dick, why didn't you tell us something about it last night ?" demanded Hazelton.
"What was the use ?" asked Prescott.

"And, though I've always thought the 'Blade' a fine local newspaper, I don't quite approve of Mr.Pollock's judgment of news values in this instance.