"Out of the question," said the distinguished Minister; "there is no time, in the first place, and if there was, there are no good wagons to be spared by the railways, no dock hands, and no steamers. Moreover, the Channel is closed for a week to merchant vessels, while troops are being transferred to the Continent."
"I have managed to get all these things," Hoover replied quietly, "and am now through with them all, except the steamers. This wire tells me that these are now loaded and ready to sail, and I have come to have you arrange for their clearance."
The great man gasped. "There have been—there are even now—men in the Tower for less than you have done!" he ejaculated. "If it was for anything but Belgium Relief—if it was anybody but you, young man—I should hate to think of what might happen. As it is—er—I suppose there is nothing to do but congratulate you on a jolly clever coup. I'll see about the clearance at once."
Mr. Lloyd George tells the following story: It seems that the Commission on Belgian Relief was attempting to simplify its work by arranging for an extension of exchange facilities on Brussels. Mr. Lloyd George, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, sent for Hoover. What happened is told in Mr. George's words:
"'Mr. Hoover,' I said, 'I find I am quite unable to grant your request in the matter of Belgian exchange, and I have asked you to come here that I might explain why.'
"Without waiting for me to go on, my boyish-looking caller began speaking. For fifteen minutes he spoke without a break—just about the clearest expository utterance I have ever heard on any subject. He used not a word too much, nor yet a word too few. By the time he had finished I had come to realize, not only the importance of his contentions, but, what was more to the point, the practicability of granting his request. So I did the only thing possible under the circumstance, told him I had never understood the question before, thanked him for helping me to understand, and saw to it that things were arranged as he wanted them."
On April 10, 1915, a submarine torpedoed one of the food ships chartered by the commission. A week later a German hydro-airplane tried to drop bombs on the deck of another commission ship. So Hoover paid a flying visit to Berlin. He was at once assured that no more incidents of the sort would occur.
"Thanks," said Hoover. "Your Excellency, have you heard the story of the man who was nipped by a bad-tempered dog? He went to the owner to have the dog muzzled. 'But the dog won't bite you,' insisted the owner. 'You know he won't bite me, and I know he won't bite me,' said the injured party doubtfully, 'but the question is, does the dog know?'"
"Herr Hoover," said the high official, "pardon me if I leave you for a moment. I am going at once to 'let the dog know.'"
This story, which is told by Mr. Edward Eyre Hunt in his delightful book about Belgium, "War Bread," may be apocryphal, but it illustrates well Hoover's habit of getting exactly what he wants.