"Sir," cut in the Globe man, with dignity, "you are positively insulting! Be nice to the other reporters. I thank you for the interview!" He bowed and left the office, followed by all the others except the Evening Post man, who, unfortunately, had never been able to rid himself of the desire to get the facts. It was partly his editor, but mostly the absence of a sense of humor.
"I think, Mr. Goodchild, that you'd better give me an official statement. I'll give the Associated Press man a copy, and that will go to all the papers."
"But I don't want to say anything," protested Mr. Goodchild, who always read the Post's money page.
"The other reporters will say it for you. I think you'd better."
"He's right, Mr. Goodchild," said the vice-president.
"But what the dickens can I say?" queried Mr. Goodchild, helplessly, not daring to look out of the window for fear of seeing the sandwiches.
"If I were you," earnestly advised the Post man, "I'd tell the truth."
"What do you mean?"
"Say why you won't let your daughter—"
"It's preposterous!"