opular, you know."

"I s'pose you'll print my name as the one what did it?" he inquired
anxiously.

"I shall print it just as it's written, advertisement and all."

She did, and Peggy bought two extra copies, at a cent apiece. He framed
all three and hung one in his office, one in the sitting room and a
third in his bedroom, where he could see it the first thing when he
wakened each morning. His fellow villagers were very proud of him, in
spite of the "knocking" of the Clarks. Skim was deeply mortified that
Peggy's "bum pome" had been accepted and his own masterly composition
"turned down cold." The widow backed her son and told all the neighbors
that "Peggy never hed the brains to write thet pome, an' the chances air
he stole it from the 'Malvern Weekly Journal.' Them gal edyturs wouldn't
know," she added scornfully; "they's as ignerunt as Peggy is, mostly."

A few days later McNutt entered the printing office with an air of great
importance.

"Goodness me! I hope you haven't done it again, Peggy," cried Patsy, in
alarm.

"No; I got fame enough. What I want is to hev the wordin' on my business
cards changed," said he. "What'll it cost?"

"What change do you wish made?" asked Patsy, examining the sample card.

"Instead of 'Marshall McMahon McNutt, dealer in Real Estate an' Spring
Chickens,' I want to make it read: 'dealer in Real Estate, Spring
Chickens an' Poetry.' What'll it cost. Miss Patsy?"

"Nothing," she said, her eyes dancing; "We'll do that job free of
charge, Peggy!"

CHAPTER XVII

THE PENALTIES OF JOURNALISM

Two strange men appeared in Millville--keen, intelligent looking
fellows--and applied to Joe Wegg for jobs. Having received a hint from
Mr. Merrick, Joe promptly employed the strangers to prepare the old mill
for the reception of the machinery for the lighting plant, and both of
them engaged board at the hold.

"Thursday," said Hetty, as she watched the pressman that night, "there's
a New York detective here--two of them, I think."

"How do you know?"

"I recognized one of them, who used to prowl around the city looking for
suspicious characters. They say they've come to work on the new electric
plant, but I don't believe it."

Thursday worked a while in silence.

"Mr. Merrick must have sent for them," he suggested.

"Yes. I think he suspects about the bomb."

"He ought to discharge me," said Thursday.

"No; he's man enough to stand by his guns. I like Mr. Merrick. He di