latform gesture of his, when he
drove a comic point home.

* * * * *

I was waiting at the station ... where I had shaken hands with Bob
Fitzsimmons, and had seen Emma Silverman off....

Penton Baxter was due on the eleven o'clock train from Kansas City.

I surely must be on the road to becoming somebody, with all these famous
people taking such an interest in me. I remembered Emerson's dictum
about waiting in one's own doorway long enough, and all the world would
come by.

Was I to be disappointed? It did not seem credible that the great man
would make a special stop-off on his way to the coast, just to pay me a
visit.

One after another the passengers stepped down and walked and rode away.
Then a little, boyish-looking man ... smooth-faced, bright-complexioned,
jumped down, wavered toward me, dropping his baggage ... extended his
hand ... both hands ... smiling with his eyes, that possessed long
lashes like a girl's.

"Are you Johnnie Gregory?"

"Penton Baxter?" I asked reverently. He smiled in response and drew my
arm through his.

"This is great, this is certainly great," he remarked, in a high voice,
"and I'm more than glad that I stopped off to see you."

He expanded in the sun of my youthful hero-worship.

"Where's the best hotel in town?"

"The Bellman House ... but I've arranged with the Sig-Kappas to put you
up."

"Are you a fraternity man?"

"No--a barb."

"I'd rather go to the hotel you named ... but thank the boys for me."

I contended with Penton Baxter for the privilege of carrying his two
grips. They were so heavy that they dragged my shoulders down, but, with
an effort, I threw my chest out, and walked, straight and proud, beside
him.

As we walked he questioned and questioned. He had the history of Laurel
University, the story of my life, out of me, almost, by the time we had
covered the ten blocks to the hotel.

"Penton Baxter!" I whispered in a low voice to the proprietor, who, as
he stood behind the desk, dipped the pen with a flourish, and shoved the
open register toward his distinguished guest.

* * * * *

Travers, of course, was the first to see the great novelist. He wired an
interview to the _Star_, and wrote a story for the Laurel _Globe_ and
the _Laurelian_.

Baxter said he would stay over for two days ... that he didn't want to
do much beside seeing me ... that he would place himself entirely in my
ha