“Hello, John B. Winters wants to see you.”
I replied, “Indeed! Why he sent me word that he would call on me here this afternoon at four o’clock!”
“O, well, it don’t do to be too ceremonious just now, he’s in my office, and that will do as well—come on in, Winters wants to consult with you alone. He’s got something to say to you.”
Though slightly uneasy at this change of programme, yet believing that in an editor’s house I ought to be safe, and anyhow that I would be within hail of the street, I hurriedly, and but partially whispered my dim apprehensions to Mr. Cummings, and asked him if he would not keep near enough to hear my voice in case I should call. He consented to do so while waiting for some other parties, and to come in if he heard my voice or thought I had need of protection.
