mussing up one's napkin and leaving it carelessly on the table was the
meanest work of my life.

Interesting guests came to Tom's house, and I would grow absorbed in
their talk. Not until we were leaving the table would I realize that my
napkin lay neatly folded and squared in the midst of casually rumpled
heaps.

One night, years later, I sat between Jim Hill and Senator Bailey of
Texas at a dinner. Both men folded their napkins. I loved them for it.


During that first year Tom made up a little theater party for a
classmate who had just married a Philadelphia girl. With memories of
Ben Franklin, William Penn, Liberty Bell, and all the grand old
characters of the City of brotherly Love, I looked forward eagerly to
making a new friend.

The Philadelphian was even more languid than Tom's mother. She chopped
her words and there were no r's in her English. I tried to break the
ice by talking of the traditions of her city. She was bored. She knew
only Philadelphia's social register. Just to play tit for tat, twice
during the evening I quoted from "Julius Caesar"--and scored!

We had just settled down in old Martin's Restaurant for after-theater
supper when two tall gentlemen entered the room.

"There's Tom Platt and Chauncey Depew," remarked Tom's friend casually.

United States senators are important people in Wisconsin--at least, they