"I'd go somewhere," Jane declared, desperately.
"But I'm sure things will manage themselves," Pat went on, with a kindly smile; "and I don't think Uncle Henry will agree to presenting Mr. Zzyx to a zoo. Neither do I apprehend any trouble at all. But if trouble arises, we've got some one now who will tackle it when it comes—Mr. McGinity!"
At this I took my courage in my hands, if only to save Pat from embarrassment in any further discussion of the reporter. Poking my head through the half-open door, I said: "And how are you, dear Jane? Brave as ever I can see."
"Oh, Livingston!" she said. "I hope you and Henry are not being bothered to death by all these horrid reporters in the house?"
"Oh, no," I replied; "they are all very polite, and nice enough. The police people are here, too, and a perfect army of cameramen. Strangers tramping all through the house, and over the grounds—over your nice rugs and lovely flowers. And the servants are leaving, one by one. Mamie Sparks stole away at the crack of dawn. Too bad, really, that we haven't someone, some strong-minded woman, to take the helm."
Jane remained silent for a moment, in deep reflection, then she sat up suddenly in bed, and exclaimed, as she thumped her pillow: "I'll get at these reporters and cameramen and police, and they shan't bother poor Henry any longer! Tramping over my lovely rugs and flowers, indeed!" She turned to Pat, and added: "Call Fifi at once, my dear. I'm getting dressed and coming downstairs."
Everything was comparatively quiet when Jane finally came down, pale and a little shaken, but now firmly resolved to preserve the routine and dignity of our house. I said to her: "After all, Jane, it's none of our business to interfere in Henry's affairs." And to my great surprise, she agreed; and from that time on, we both joined in all the fuss and clamor, but with a good deal of misgiving, and not without some trepidation.
Except for the crowd of curious village and country people congregated outside the lodge-gate, by noon, the castle had resumed its normal appearance. It was pretty much of a bedlam, though, earlier in the day, when the reporters and cameramen from the city newspapers again besieged us. Henry, at first, with something of his old inherent distaste for reporters showing itself, was against admitting them to the premises. "Damn them all!" he exclaimed to McGinity, in my presence. "If your paper has the story, why doesn't that suffice for all?"
"It doesn't suffice, as you say, by any means," McGinity replied. "Every City Editor expects the reporter he assigns to this story, to get all available information first-hand. The story of the rocket's arrival has now been published, in the Daily Recorder, thanks to you, sir, and the public must still be served. The public craves not only news stories but pictures."
"There you are!" said Henry. "And I'm expected to stand by and let this mob in, to swarm over my place, from which, for years, I've succeeded in keeping strangers out." Noticing that McGinity was smiling, he added: "And I'm not so well pleased either, young man, over the fact that a number of sketches and photographs were used in conjunction with your story this morning, when I distinctly told you I did not wish any pictures taken."