A College Called Panhandle

"I kid you not, Coach. I've never met more courteous or more friendly people at any school I've visited."

"We pride ourselves—"

"I was most impressed," the widow broke in again, "with the high caliber of your faculty members. They are perfect ladies and gentlemen and most refined in every sense of the word."

"I think credit for that should go to President McKee. He is responsible for most of the—"

"I know," continued the widow. "I am convinced that my son would be very happy here. And let me say that the dinner we sat down to this noon in the cafeteria was positively delicious. Stuffed green peppers, mashed potatoes, carrots, navy beans, salad, dessert, choice of milk, tea or coffee. It was as fine a meal as you could get in Oklahoma City. I kid you not, Coach."

"Our students eat well. We've never had any complaints on that score."

"Now then," said the widow, turning to her son. "The boy here likes everything about Panhandle."

"We'd like to have him here," said Williams.

The widow leaned back in her chair.

"All right, Coach. What would be the arrangements, so to speak?"