I'd heard of the guy. The "Socker" came from intercollegiate boxing--at which he had been champ of his class many long years ago. My old man thought he was a "great personality, a liberal, a true intellectual of the church, and a profound modern philosopher." "I won't hold it against you if you say not." He laughed--about four watts too heartily. "Mind if I take this coat off?" I did mind--because that meant he'd stick around longer. But I'd asked him up. What the hell! I usually give myself a break around four or five, anyhow--for coffee. I told him that. "I was about to knock off--" and so on. "Would you like something to drink?" He said he'd have a sloe gin fizz. This was to get across his modernity and liberality. "Don't drink, myself." I took some trivial pleasure in his visible surprise. "I thought all authors--?" "Used to be a lush. Quit." I told Room Service about this new guest and his taste for wild plum juice. He had said, "Oh," anent my confession. I hung up and he grinned at me. He'd taken off his collar and dickey by that time and was sitting there in a wet undershirt. "In town for long?" "Nope." "You're here a good deal, though, your father tells me." "Sometimes. At the moment--we're building in Florida--and my kid attends school there--so Florida is where we spend most of our time." "Hot, in the fall and spring, isn't it?" "Not this hot!" He thought that was amusing, too. "Hurricanes," he said. "Yep. Hurricanes." "You've been in them?" "Repeatedly." I passed up a grade-A chance to dramatize Wylie, since it would give him equal privileges, when his turn came. "I'll tell you, frankly, why I'm here," Socker said. "I want you to do me a favor." He gave me that ministerial look--the beaming meekness of a man who is never denied a favor. "Like what?" It dashed him a trifle. "Well, Phil--" (old friend of dad, I reminded myself) "I don't suppose you've been in a church for a long time." "Not to my knowledge." That got him again. "And I don't suppose you've ever been in a church like mine. Don't get the idea I'm about to ask you over to hear me preach. A preacher like yourself--you see, I've read your books--wouldn't be much interested in the rhetorical efforts of a chap like me." He was a little nervous, now, and actually a shade humble. "What I'm driving at is this. We've got a young people's society that has thrown doctrine out the window--not caring how much stained glass broke--and is trying to get some meaning out of religion by putting some new meaning in it." "Sounds trenchant." "I want you to come over, Phil, and talk to my young people. They're readers of yours. We've discussed your books at meetings--gone through them chapter by chapter--had some real battles! It's our feeling that, at bottom, you're as earnest a Believer as any of the rest of us. I've sprung some surprises on my young folks--Phil--but springing you would really rock them." The Buick salesman touch.