it for your introduction and get your story from the flimsy.
And, in your head, cut out Flagg entirely. Call it 'The Red
Cross Girl.' And play it up strong with pictures." He turned
on Sam and eyed him curiously.

"What's the idea, Ward?" he said. "This is a newspaper--not a
magazine!"

The click of the typewriters was silent, the hectic rush of
the pencils had ceased, and the staff, expectant, smiled
cynically upon the star reporter. Sam shoved his hands into
his trousers pockets and also smiled, but unhappily.

"I know it's not news, Sir," he said; but that's the way I
saw the story--outside on the lawn, the band playing, and the
governor and the governor's staff and the clergy burning
incense to Flagg; and inside, this girl right on the job--
taking care of the sick and wounded. It seemed to me that a
million from a man that won't miss a million didn't stack up
against what this girl was doing for these sick folks! What I
wanted to say," continued Sam stoutly "was that the moving
spirit of the hospital was not in the man who signed the
checks, but in these women who do the work--the nurses, like
the one I wrote about; the one you called 'The Red Cross
Girl.'"

Collins, strong through many years of faithful service,
backed by the traditions of the profession, snorted
scornfully.