Ella was sexing up her hair, giving it that loose, wind-whipped look, when the doorbell rang. In a way, she had not actually expected to hear from Adam Cramer again—he was too unreal; too much a figure out of a movie, for belief—but she’d put on her best dress, just in case. Now she was glad. And, a little frightened. She’d told her father that a stranger might be by and that she might go out with this stranger, provided Tom agreed; still there was that feeling of an improbable fancy coming true. For there could be no doubt that it was Adam Cramer.

She waited a decent feminine interval, then came out. He stood in the living room, looking exactly as he had yesterday; perhaps a bit more relaxed. He was talking with Tom.

“. . . hadn’t realized Ella’s father was the editor of the Messenger. I was planning to call on you this week.”

Gramp hadn’t looked up; he was deeply engrossed in an old Western movie on the TV set. Occasionally he grunted his annoyance at all the ruckus.

Adam saw Ella and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Ella said, with great uncertainty.

“Why didn’t you tell me that your dad was a celebrity?”

“Huh? Oh—I don’t know. I guess you two have met?”

“Yes, indeed,” Adam said. “At least we’ve introduced ourselves.”

“Well, wait a second; I’ll get my wife,” Tom said.

Ruth came in from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron.

“This is Mr. Adam Cramer,” Tom said slowly. “He wants to take Ella to a motion picture.”

Ruth blinked. “How do you do,” she said. “You’re—the young fellow that called us yesterday, aren’t you?”

Adam looked up. “Did I? Gosh, I don’t know. I made quite a few calls. Trying to get things rolling.” He turned to Tom. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to drop by in person today; there are so many houses to canvas. But we can have our talk tomorrow. I’ll stop by your office—that is, if it’s all right.”

Tom rubbed his chin. “What exactly about, Mr. Cramer? You apparently didn’t make yourself any too clear to my wife.”

“About the situation at the school, primarily. You see, I’m the executive secretary of an organization in Washington, and we believe we can help Caxton, help the people fight this ruling. That’s it, mainly.”

“I see.”

Ella wondered if this was another joke, decided it wasn’t. “Come on, now, let’s not talk politics and stuff when I’m supposed to be going out on a date. Or am I?”

“I’m not sure,” Tom said. He turned again to Adam. “Mr. Cramer, it’s pretty unusual, you just dropping into town and setting up my daughter for a date. Is there any good reason why I shouldn’t refuse? She’s only sixteen, you realize.”