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By Root 9026 0

on the opaque green bay. Then they were crossing the gutted factory districts of Bayonne and Elizabeth. Beyond the russet saltmeadows, Jersey stretched in great flat squares, some yel ow, some red, some of them misted with the green of new crops. There were ranks of big white cumulus clouds catching the sunlight beyond the Delaware. It got to be a little bumpy and Charley rose to seven thousand feet where it was cold and clear with a fiftymile wind blowing from the northwest. When he came down again it was noon and the Susquehanna shone bright blue in a rift in the clouds. Even at two thousand feet he could feel the warm steam of spring from the plowed land. Flying low over the farms he could see the white fluff of orchards in bloom. He got too far south, avoiding a heavy squal over the head of the Chesapeake, and had to fol ow the Potomac north up to-wards the glinting white dome of the Capitol and the shin-ing sliver of the Washington Monument. There was no smoke over Washington. He circled around for a half an hour before he found the flyingfield. There was so much green it al looked like flyingfield.

"Wel , Andy," said Charley when they were stretching

-211-their legs on the turf, "when those experts see that starter their eyes'l pop out of their heads."

Merritt's face looked pale and he tottered a little as he walked. "Can't hear," he shouted.

"I got to take a leak." Charley fol owed him to the hangar, leaving Bil to go over the motor. Merritt was phoning for a taxi. "Christ amighty, am I hungry?" roared Charley. Merritt winced.

"I got to get a drink to settle my stomach first." When they got into the taxi with their feet on Mer-ritt's enormous pigskin suitcase, "I'l tel you one thing, Charley," Merritt said,

"we've got to have a separate cor-poration for that starter . . . might need a separate productionplant and everything. Standard Airparts would list wel ." They had two rooms and a large parlor with pink easy-chairs in it at the huge new hotel. From the windows you could look down into the fresh green of Rock Creek Park. Merritt looked around with considerable satisfaction. "I like to get into a place on Sunday," he said. "It gives you a chance to get settled before beginning work." He added that he didn't think there'd be anybody in the diningroom he knew, not on a Sunday, but as it turned out it took them quite a while to get to their table. Charley was introduced on the way to a senator, a corporation lawyer, the youngest member of the House of Representatives and a nephew of the Secretary of the Navy. "You see," explained Merritt,

"my old man was a senator once."

After lunch Charley 'went out to the field again to take a look at the ship. Bil Cermak had everything bright as a jeweler's window. Charley brought Bil back to the hotel to give him a drink. There were waiters in the hal outside the suite and cigarsmoke and a great sound of social voices pouring out the open door. Bil laid a thick finger against his crooked nose and said maybe he'd better blow. "Gee, it does sound like the socialregister. Here, I'l let you in my bedroom an' I'l bring you a drink if you don't mind wait--212-ing a sec,""Sure, it's al right by me, boss." Charley washed his hands and straightened his necktie and went into the sittingroom al in a rush like a man diving into a cold pool.

Andy Merritt was giving a cocktailparty with dry mar-tinis, chickensalad, sandwiches, a bowl of caviar, strips of smoked fish, two old silverhaired gentlemen, three husky-voiced southern bel es with too much makeup on, a fat senator and a very thin senator in a high col ar, a sprin-kling of pale young men with Harvard accents and a sal-low man with a gold tooth who wrote a syndicated column cal ed Capitol Smal Talk. There was a young publicity-man named Savage he'd met at Eveline's. Charley was in-troduced al around and stood first on one foot and then on the other until he got a chance to sneak into the bed-room with two halftumblers of rye and a plate of sand-wiches. "Gosh, it's terrible in there. I don't dare open my mouth for fear of puttin'