The Great Secretary-of-State Interview
porter, just down from Harlem. "Carrington," answered someone. Carrington, pretending not to hear, was leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table, very much as the older men sit after writing their big stories. Others had written The Story of other days, but few of them had ever felt the managing editor lean over them while writing, and say, "Good work, my boy!" and pat them on the back. It was at this point that Van Cise, the city editor, looking excited, came running down the room toward Carrington. Close behind him came Mr. Reed with a scared look on his face, a telegram in his hand. "Mr. Carrington," the latter began, "did you ask him that question alone? Did you?"
Carrington looked up puzzled. The managing editor's voice was more nervous than he had ever heard it before.
Van Cise interrupted vigorously: "Quick! did you? The Secretary of State—Damn it, say something!"
Young Carrington was wondering what there was to be excited about. "Alone? Oh, why yes, sir; I asked that question all by myself." He smiled up good-naturedly.
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