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me that as soon as I get back they're going to let me take a shot at feature stories! Said he'd been watching me personally and thought I had the stuff. Said—get this, mother!—that Mose Blake, he's the city editor, told him I was a writer, not a reporter, and that for the sake of brevity he was having to cut out of my copy, every day, stuff that was 'so well written it's a crime to throw it away,' and that I ought to be given a chance to spread a bit.
"Of course," he added, Jock-like, "that's probably mostly applesauce. But anyway, I'm going to get the chance—and more salary."
Then he was hugged and exclaimed over and beamed upon. And the two long glasses were touched together and drained. . . .
"Fill them again," said Madelaine Hamill. "I want to drink to the houseparty, and—" she smiled impishly "—as my ingenuous offspring puts it—'n'Cec'ly'"
Peg and Johnny met him at the station the next morning, and fell upon him with cries. "Look me in the eye!" said Peg immediately. "Are you cured? You must be, or you wouldn't have come. Praise the Lord, Amen. Now we'll have a real houseparty!"
They hustled him along the platform, jabbering as they went, and interrupting one another.
"When we got your wire"
"We didn't tell a soul you were coming"
"Wanted to surprise 'em"
"And believe me they'll be surprised! Like having a visitor from the Styx, or something!"