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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Turmoil, a novel"

"He wants
me to take you down to my office and give you an overhauling to see
how much harm these four days on the machine have done you. I guess
you folks have got that old man pretty thoroughly upset, between you,
up at your house! But I don't need to go over you. I can see with
my eyes half shut--"
"Yes," Bibbs interrupted, "that's what they are."
"I say I can see you're starting out, at least, in good shape.
What's made the difference?"
"I like the machine," said Bibbs. "I've made a friend of it.
I serenade it and talk to it, and then it talks back to me."
"Indeed, indeed? What does it say?"
"What I want to hear."
"Well, well!" The doctor stretched himself and stamped his foot
repeatedly. "Better come along and take a drive with me. You can
take the time off that he allowed for the examination, and--"
"Not at all," said Bibbs. "I'm going to stand by my old zinc-eater
till five o'clock. I tell you I LIKE it!"
"Then I suppose that's the end of your wanting to write."
"I don't know about that," Bibbs said, thoughtfully; "but the zinc-
eater doesn't interfere with my thinking, at least. It's better than
being in business; I'm sure of that.


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