On seating myself at my table to await the bell of the Gouverneur Faulkner, without which ringing my Buzz had instructed me I must never on pain of extinction as a secretary enter His Excellency’s office, I opened that letter and began to read with difficulty a letter of a few words from my wee Pierre, now in the hospital of that kind Doctor Burns.  I read not more than one sentence when I leaped to my feet with a cry of joy and my heart beat very high with happiness.  To whom should I turn to tell of that happiness?  I did not pause to answer that question in my heart but I quickly opened the door of the august Gouverneur of Harpeth and presented myself to him in a disobedience of strict orders.  And then what befell me?

Seated at his desk was that great and good man, with his head bowed upon his hands; and at my entrance he raised that head with an alarm.  I could see that his face was heavy and sad with deep pondering and I was instantly thrown into mortification that I had so interrupted him.  I faltered there beside him and found halting words to exclaim: 

“Oh, it is a pardon I ask Your Excellency for intruding into your door, but it is that my small Pierre has stood upon two feet for perhaps a whole minute in the hospital of that good Dr. Burns and I must run to tell you of my joy.  Is it quite possible now that Pierre will no longer be for life crooked in the back?” And as I spoke I held out to him the letter upon which tears were dripping and one of my hands I clasped trembling at my breast that shook under that stylish cheviot bag of a coat I had that morning put upon me for the first time.  And did that great Gouverneur Faulkner repulse his wicked secretary?  He did not.

“God bless you, youngster!  Of course you run right to tell me when a big thing like that happens.  Sure that back will be all straight in no time and we’ll have the little maid down, running in and out at her will in just a few months,” and as he spoke that Gouverneur Faulkner came to my side and took the hand that held the tear-besprinkled letter and also drew the one from my breast into his own two large and warm ones.  “I’ve been hearing people’s troubles for what seems like an eternity, boy, but not a single son-of-a-gun has run to me with his joy until you have.  Here, use one corner of my handkerchief while I use the other,” and as he spoke that very large and broad-shouldered man released one of my hands, dabbed his own eyes that were sparkling with perhaps a tear, and then handed that handkerchief to me.

And those tears of both of us ended in a large laugh.

“It is my habit that I shed tears when in joy,” I said with apology, as I returned that large white handkerchief to that Gouverneur Faulkner.

“Mind you don’t tell anybody that Governor Bill Faulkner does the same thing,” he answered with a laugh.

“I have a feeling that is of longing to rush to small Pierre and to prostrate myself at the feet of that good Doctor,” I said as again the great joy of that news rushed upon me.