There were a few ending-up sentences that gave me time to pull out a novel and settle down over it. I seemed so buried in it that when Babbitts put down his money I never raised my eyes, just swept the coin into the drawer and turned a page. He didn’t move, leaning against the switchboard and not saying a word. With him standing there so close I got nervous and had to look up, and as soon as I did it he made a motion with his hand for me to lift my headpiece. "If two heads are better than one," he said, "two ears must be; and the words I am about to utter should be fully heard to be appreciated." Of course I thought he was going to tell me what he’d found out at Cresset’s. It made me feel proud, being confided in by a newspaper man, and I pushed up my headpiece, all smiling and ready to be smart and helpful. He didn’t smile back but looked and spoke as solemn as an undertaker. "Miss Morganthau, yours is a very sedentary occupation." Believe me I got a jolt. "If you’re asking me to violate the rules for that," I answered, "you’re taking more upon yourself than I’ll overlook from a child reporter with a head of hair like the Fair Circassian in Barnum & Bailey’s." "I speak only as one concerned for your health. A walk after business hours should be the invariable practice of those whose work forbids exercise." "Thank you for your interest," says I, very haughty, "but it’s well to look at home before we search abroad. The man who spends all his time riding in autos at the expense of the Press would be better employed exercising his own limbs than directing those of others. So start right along and walk quick." He didn’t budge, but says slow and thoughtful: "Your remarks, Miss Morganthau, are always to the point. I’m going to take a walk this evening—say about seven-thirty." "I hope you’ll enjoy it," says I. "As for me, I’m going straight home to rest. I need it, what with my work and the ginks that stand round here taking up my time and running the risk of getting me fired"—the door handle clicked. I looked over my shoulder and saw a man coming in. "Which way?" I says in a whisper. "Down Maple Lane," he whispers back, and I was in front of my board with my headpiece in place when the man came in. We walked up and down Maple Lane for an hour, and it may amuse you to know that what that simple guy wanted was to tell me to listen to every voice on my wires. I looked at him calm and pitiful. _Me_, that had been listening till, if your ears grow with exercise, mine ought to have been long enough to tie in a true lover’s knot on top of my head! There’s a wonderful innocence about men in some ways. It makes you feel sorry for them, like they were helpless children.