draft. "Mr. Saddle, I wish you all the best in your prosecution of this
case. Please call on me if there is anything I can do to help. In any
way, don't hesitate to call on me."

I stood up and took the draft and turned to go, but Mr. Spardleton
thrust his hand out. I shook it and said, "Is anything wrong with it?"

"Not that I am able to see, Mr. Saddle. It is a most remarkable job, and
bespeaks of ingenuity, resourcefulness, and skill. You have come a long
way to be able to write such an application."

I didn't know what to say, so I smiled and bobbed my head and walked out
still looking at him and smiling, which made it necessary for me to walk
sideways, and thus made me look, I suppose, somewhat like a crab.

Susan put the case in final form. We sent the papers to California for
Callahan's signature, then we filed the case, and things got back to
normal with me. It was a great relief not to have the strain on me night
and day. That's the trouble with an important case. You live with it too
much.

* * * * *

It was seven months before I got the first Office Action in the Case. I
read the first few paragraphs and they were quite normal. They rejected
the Case in the usual manner by citing prior patents that had nothing to
do with my application. This kind of thing was just part of the game of
prosecution in which the Patent Examiner makes rejections because that
is what he is supposed to do no matter what the invention; they don't
have to make much sense. But then came a paragraph that went way beyond
good sense and proper rejection technique. It said:

_The specification is objected to as containing large portions that are
merely laudatory. See Ex parte Grieg, 181 OG 266, and Ex parte
Wellington 113 OG 2218. These portions are superfluous and should be
deleted, Ex parte Ball, 1902 CD 326. The specification is unnecessarily
prolix throughout and contains an unduly large number of embodiments, Ex
parte Blakemen, 98 OG 791. Shortening is required._

I didn't wait. I grabbed the file of the Case and almost ran over to the
Patent Office to straighten out the Examiner on a few things. As usual,
Herbert Krome was the Examiner, so I charged up to his desk and
immediately began explaining to him the importance of the Tearproof
Paper Case. He seemed to pay no attention to me, but I knew him; he was
listening. When I finally paused to let him say something, he looked at
me quizzically and