* * * * *
Two days later, while I was bravely punching typewriter keys in a
desperate effort to make good my boast, a small, haggard-looking fellow
came to the door and rang the bell.
"We don't want any," I said.
He peered through the screen door and said, "I'm MacDonald," in a
nervous, uncertain voice.
"MacDonald who?"
"Donald MacDonald. May I come in?"
"You're kidding. No, by God, you're not. You _are_ Donald MacDonald."