And you won't let me build it.
You, some of you Anglo-Saxons yourselves, destined to be obliterated as
I shall be, are fighting me. You say that I am _stealing_. I, fighting
to leave a thumb print!"

Jim dropped into his seat and for a moment there was such silence in the
room that the palm leaves outside the window could be heard rattling
softly in the breeze. Then there broke forth a great round of
handclapping, and during this Jim slipped out. He was not much deceived
by the applause. He knew that it would take more than a burst of
eloquence to overcome the influences at work against the Service.

He returned to the dam that night, Pen and Sara came up the next day and
that evening Jim went over to call. It was his first word with Pen since
the walk to Wind Ridge. He found Sara sleeping heavily. Pen greeted him
casually.

"Hello, Still! Sara was suffering so frightfully after his trip that he
took his morphine. It was insane of him to go to the Hearing, but he
would do it. Sit down. We won't disturb him a bit."

She pulled the blanket over the unconscious man in her usual tender way.

"You are mighty good to him, Pen," said Jim.

"I try to be. I guess I'm as good to him as he'll let me be, poor
fellow. Jim, he was fine in his college days, wasn't he?"

"I never saw a more magnificent physique," answered Jim. "He was a great
athlete and I used to believe he was a greater financier than Morgan."

Pen looked at Jim gratefully. "And if it hadn't been for the accident he
would have been just as easy to get along with as the average man."

Jim chuckled. "I don't know whether that's a compliment to Sara or an
insult to the average man. What have you done with yourself during the
investigation?"

"Taken care of Sara, communed with my soul and the laundry problem and
had several nice talks with Jane Ames. She is a dear."

Jim nodded. Then he pulled the Secretary's letter from his pocket with a
copy of his own answer and handed them to Pen. "I've come for advice and
comment," he said.

Pen read both and her cheeks flushed. "Have you sent your answer?"

Jim nodded.

Pen stared at him a moment with her mouth open, then she said, with
heartfelt sincerity, "Jim, I'm perfectly disgusted with you!"

Jim gasped.

"Like the average descendant of the Puritan," Pen sniffed, "you are
lying down on your job. Thank God, I'm Irish!"

"Gee, Pen, you're actually cross!"

"I am! If I were not a perfect lady I'd slap you