But though the newspapers, with one joyous voice, were able to announce early in August, on the authority of the federal reports, “No new case in a week,” the success of Old Home Week still swayed in the balance.  Outside newspapers, which had not forgotten the scandal of the smallpox suppression years before, hinted that the record might not be as clear as it appeared.  The President of the United States, they pointed out, who was to be the guest of honor and the chief feature of the celebration, would not be justified in going to a city over which any suspicion of pestilence still hovered.  In fact, the success or failure of the event practically hung upon the Chief Executive’s action.  If, now, he decided to withdraw his acceptance, on whatever ground, the country would impute it to a justified caution, and would maintain against the city that intangible moral quarantine which is so disastrous to its victim.  Throughout, Hal Surtaine in his editorial columns had vigorously maintained that the President would come.  It was mostly “bluff.”  He had nothing but hope to build on.

Two more “clean” weeks passed.  At the close of the second, Hal stopped one day at the hospital to see McGuire Ellis, who was finally convalescent and was to be discharged on the following week.  At the door of Ellis’s room he met Dr. Elliot.  Somewhat embarrassed, he stepped aside.  The physician stopped.

“Er—­Surtaine,” he said hesitantly.

“Well?”

“I’ve had time to think things over.  And I’ve had some talks with Mac.  I—­I guess I was wrong.”

“You were right enough from your point of view.”

“Think so?” said the other, surprised.

“Yes.  And I know I was right, from mine.”

“Humph!” There was an uncomfortable pause.  Then:  “I called names.  I apologize.”

“That’s all right, then,” returned Hal heartily.

“Woof!” exhaled the physician.  “That’s off my chest.  Now, I’ve got an item for you.”

“For the ’Clarion’?”

“Yep.  The President’s coming.”

“Coming?  To Old Home Week?”

“To Old Home Week.”

“An item!  Great Caesar!  A spread!  A splurge!!  A blurb!!!  Where did you get it?”

“From Washington.  Just been there.”

“Tell me all of it.”

“Know Redding?  He and I saw some tough service together in the old M.H.S.  That’s the United States Public Health Service now.  Redding’s the head of it; Surgeon-General.  First-class man, every way.  So I went to see him and told him we had to have the President, and why.  He saw it in a minute.  Knew all about the ‘Clarion’s’ fight, too.  He went to the White House and explained the whole business.  The President said that a clean bill of health from the Service was good enough for him, and he’d come, sure.  Here’s his letter to the Surgeon-General.  It goes out for publication to-morrow.  There’s a line in it speaking of the ‘Clarion’s’ good work.”