FISH. Well, when I start going with Mrs. Vanderbilt will be plenty of time to stop. _From outside is heard the sound of a metallic whistle, a melodious call in C major._ What’s that? DORIS. Don’t ask me. FISH. It’s pretty. It must be some kind of bird. _The whistle is repeated. It is nearer._ There it is again. _Doris goes to the window._ DORIS. It’s only the postman. FISH. I never heard a postman with a whistle like that. DORIS. He must be a new one on this beat. That’s too bad. The old one used to give me my mail wherever I met him, even if he was four or five blocks from my house. _The sound again--just outside the door now._ I’ll let him in. _She goes to the door and opens it. The figure of the new postman is outlined in the doorway against the morning sky. It is Jerry Frost._ _But for a particular reason neither Doris nor Joseph Fish recognize him. He is utterly changed. In the gray uniform his once flabby figure appears firm, erect--even defiant. His chin is up--the office stoop has gone. When he speaks his voice is full of confidence, with perhaps a touch of scorn at the conglomerate weaknesses of humanity._ JERRY. Good morning. Would you like some mail? DORIS [_taken somewhat aback_]. Why, sure. I guess so. JERRY. It’s a nice morning out. You two ought to be out walking. FISH [_blankly_]. Huh? JERRY. Is this number 2127? If it is, I’ve got a good-looking lot of mail for you. DORIS [_with growing interest_]. What do you mean, a good looking lot of mail? JERRY. What do I _mean_? Why, I mean it’s got variety, of course. [_Rummaging in his bag._] I got eight letters for you. DORIS. Say, you’re new on this beat, aren’t you? JERRY. Yes, I’m new but I’m good. [_He produces a handful of letters._] I’m the best one they ever had. FISH. How do you know? Did they tell you? JERRY. No, I just feel it. I know my job. I can give any other mailman stamps and post-cards and beat him with bundles. I’m just naturally _good_. I don’t know why. DORIS. I never heard of a mailman being _good_. JERRY. They’re mostly all good. Some professions anybody can get into them, like business or politics for instance, but you take postmen--they’re like angels, they sort of pick ’em out. [_Witheringly._] They not only pick ’em out--they select ’em. FISH [_fascinated_]. And you’re the best one. JERRY [_modestly_]. Yes, I’m the best one they ever had. [_He looks over the letters._] Now here’s what I call a clever ad. Delivered a lot of these this morning. Children like ’em, you know. They’re from the carpet company. FISH. Let’s see it. [_He takes the ad eagerly._]