Three days later, toward evening, when I came home from school, I spied a large envelope on the hall table. It was addressed to me in a man's handwriting and bore the United States Senate return. I tore it open. At first my eyes swept the pages unseeingly, noting only the signature, "W. G. Harding."
Mrs. Carter was in the living-room on that floor and I joined her there. She was an extremely conventional woman and I knew she would not understand or sympathize if I were to confess my intense admiration for a married man. So, with a supreme effort at nonchalance, I told her that I had some days before written to Senator Harding inquiring about a position, and that this was his reply. With forced calm I read aloud to her his letter to me.
The opening sentence was an assurance that he did indeed remember me. He added, ". . . you may be sure of that, and I remember you most agreeably, too." Compared with the warmth of these first sentences the following cordially expressed desire to be of assistance in furthering my ambition to become a secretary held only secondary interest for me.
He said frankly that if he had a position open in his own office he would "gladly tender it to me." The next best thing he said, would be to help me to a government position provided I were secretarially equipped for it. To this end he inquired specifically what I had been trained to do. He suggested that I accompany my next letter with a note of recommendation, parenthetically emphasizing that this note was not for his own satisfaction but for that of the department chief. After this was in his hands he would "go personally to the war or navy department and urge my appointment." He thought that "the
