By Edna Ferber
"There are a couple of issues which are pleasanter than being in poor health in a brand new York boarding-house while one’s nearest dearest is a married sister up in far-away Michigan."
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Extra resources for Dawn O'Hara, the Girl Who Laughed
Norah, and Max, and Mr. " Norah's hands crashed down on the piano keys with a jangling discord. She swung about to face me. "Not New York again, Dawn! " "I am afraid so," I answered. Max--bless his great, brotherly heart-- rose and came over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't you like it here, girlie? Want to be hauled home on a shutter 39 DAWN O'HARA THE GIRL WHO LAUGHED again, do you? You know that as long as we have a home, you have one. " But I shook my head. From his chair at the other side of the room I could feel Von Gerhard's gaze fixed upon us.
They were sounds such as I had not heard since the night I was sent to cover a Socialist meeting in New York. I tip-toed down the stairs, although I might have fallen down and landed with a thud without having been heard. The din came from the direction of the dining room. Well, come what might, I would not falter. After all, it could not be worse than that awful time when I had helped cover the teamsters' strike. I peered into the dining room. The thunder of conversation went on as before. But there was no bloodshed.
Maybe that trip done me good. Anyway, I'm livin' yet. I stuck it out for four months, an' that ain't so rotten for a guy who just grew up on printer's ink ever since he was old enough to hold a bunch of papers under his arm. Well, one day mother an' me was sittin' out on one of them veranda cafes they run to over there, w'en somebody hits me a crack on the shoulder, an' there stands old Ryan who used t' do A. P. here. He was foreign correspondent for some big New York syndicate papers over there.