A whining voice came from the door asking: --Is that Josephine? The old bustling woman answered cheerily from the fireplace: --No, Ellen, it's Stephen. In the quiet of American conscience, we know that deep, persistent poverty is unworthy of our nation#146;s promise. I was standing at the end of the South Terrace one day with some maneens like myself and sure we thought we were grand fellows because we had pipes stuck in the corners of our mouths. "You want to go to your uncle?" Again, at this, with his sweet ironic face, he made a movement on the pillow.
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