check. I read the letter before I looked at the check, which I
supposed would be for $30, as the other story was valued at $20.
The note said that a perfect gentleman named Chichester would be
pleased if I would find enclosed a check for $50. I looked at
Jenny helplessly, and said, "It's for fifty, Jenny." Crute had
an insane look in his eyes as he murmured "half a hundred
dollars, and on your day off, too." Then I sat down suddenly and
wondered what I would buy first, and Crute sat in a dazed
condition, and abstractedly took a handful of segars out of
the box dear old Dad gave me. As I didn't say anything, he
took another handful, and then sat down and gazed at the check
for five minutes in awe. After breakfast I calculated how
much I would have after I paid my debts. I still owe say $23,
and I have some shoes to pay for and my hair to cut. I had a
wild idea of going over to New York and buying some stocks,
but I guess I'll go to Bond's and Baker's instead.

I'm going down street now to see if Drexel wants to borrow any
ready money-on the way down I will make purchases and pay
bills so that my march will be a triumphal procession.

I got a story on the front page this morning about an
explosion at Columbia Avenue Station--I went out on it with
another man my senior in years and experience, whom Watrous
expected to write the story while I hustled for facts. When
we got back I had all the facts, and what little he had was
incorrect--so I said I would dispense with his services and
write the story myself. I did it very politely, but it
queered the man before the men, and Watrous grew very
sarcastic at his expense. Next time Andy will know better and