manner of speaking, in the waiting-room; but he let them wait now, that
being what the room was for.

"Well?... How'd it strike you?"

The Labor Commissioner mopped his brow with a snowy handkerchief, which
released into the office the scent of cologne. He was a stoutish man,
and the morning, for autumn, was astonishingly warm.

"Well, it's ill-timed, V.V.," said he, without ill-humor. "And--kind of
extreme. I told you the other day how I felt about it."

The face of the medico fell.

"I thought you said you approved of a good, pertinent letter, to show
that the laity were backing you up!"

"I said a mild, easy-tempered letter might be all right. But--"

"Why, Sam, don't you think that's an awfully mild letter? You ought to
see what I edited out of it."

"Well, you left in enough to let the 'Post' in for a damage suit, all
right. You, too.... Only you won't have much to lodge a judgment
against, long's you haven't got a billhead printed and charge regular
fees like I told you."

"I'm perfectly responsible--far as that goes. Don't you worry."

The doctor's look showed that he considered O'Neill's pleasantry in bad