editorial stood face up, and laid it on the small table where his father kept his pipes and some books. Struck by an after-thought he took a pencil from his pocket and wrote a sentence across the newspaper page.
"Commissioner Hunter has promised to fix our street next month."
Hours later, when Mr. Praska reached home, the house was hushed and stilled. Gently he closed the front door. A night light burned in the dining room. He drew out a chair, turned the light higher, and began to read the Evening Star's editorial on democracy. He had read it once coming out on the train. "They have shown," he repeated aloud, "the will and the spirit to function as Americans."
After a time he went over to the side table to look for his pipe. At sight of the newspaper that his son had left for him a whimsical smile touched his lips; and then he saw the sentence telling of the Commissioner's promise, and abruptly the smile was gone.
His hand, feeling around for his pipe, sent something falling to the floor. He picked it up. It was a yellow card that he had tossed aside and had not given another thought. Now, as he stared at it, his lips moved. "The will and the spirit to function as Americans," he said.
