employed
on behalf of his employers. When the State member came to Grey Town to
make his election speech, Tim O'Neill recognised an opportunity. It was
a notorious fact that "The Observer's" new reporter was addicted to
drink, and, after reporting the speech in full, he slipped into the
"Royal Hart" Hotel, as was his custom, for a glass of whisky, his
shorthand report in his pocket. After him, cautiously, went Tim O'Neill,
and abstracted his notes from his pocket, substituting for them a
spurious copy. Where Tim had secured this false shorthand report history
does not relate, but they were cleverly done, so like and yet so unlike
the original as to be ridiculous. It was this report that appeared in
"The Observer" next morning. In his fury the editor discharged the chief
reporter, and when he went out to re-engage him found that Cairns had
been before him.

"Tim O'Neill, you deserve a sound thrashing," said Denis Quirk when he
heard of the boy's escapade. "But your wages are raised, not as an
incentive to further crimes, but because you have a future before you.
Do you ever study?"

"Just a little. Miss Molly is teaching me," said Tim.

"I must arrange with Burnside to give you a few hours every week. You
will be an editor some day, Tim, if you avoid the rocks," said Denis
Quirk.

That very day Tim came in to Desmond O'Connor, his face the picture of
anxiety. Noting this, Desmond eyed the youth in surprise: then he burst
out in a shout of laughter.

"What are you doing that for?" asked Tim, furiously.

"I never saw you so melancholy before, Tim. What particular sin have you
committed? Or have you lost a far-distant cousin? Confess your guilt,
Tim."

"I suppose you think you're funny?" cried Tim. "I've half a mind to go
and give myself to 'The Observer,' and ruin this blessed old paper."

Desmond O'Connor's shout of laughter brought Cairns from his room,
anxious to share the joke.

"Let us have it at once," he cried. "In this strenuous life a joke is
too precious an event to be wasted. Who made it, you or Tim?"

"Tim is acquiring a high sense of humour," said Desmond. "Tell Mr.
Cairns your awful threat, Tim."

"Yah!" cried Tim, vindictively, "I'll tell Mr. Cairns what I came to
tell you, and leave you to wish you knew it."

Therewith he drew the editor into his room, and closed the doors
carefully.

"They're going to strike, sir, on both papers, for higher wages," he
said in a low voice.

"Who do you