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Updated: June 2, 2025
I shut my eyes, and opened them again suddenly. The fat German letters spoke their message as before "English spoken here." On reaching the office I told Norberg, the city editor, about my find. He was not impressed. Norberg never is impressed. He is the most soul-satisfying and theatrical city editor that I have ever met. He is fat, and unbelievably nimble, and keen-eyed, and untiring.
I met them in the stiff little waiting room of he hospital Norberg, Deming, Schmidt, Holt men who had known him from the time when they had yelled, "Heh, boy!" at him when they wanted their pencils sharpened.
It was plain that the ways of newspaper reporters were foreign to the life of this plain German woman, but she bade me enter with a sweet graciousness of manner. Wondering, but silent, she led the way down the dim narrow hallway to the sitting-room beyond. And there I saw that Norberg had known whereof he spoke. A stout, red-faced stove glowed cheerfully in one corner of the room.
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