THE CABINET: Brave Cricket

When he was Secretary of State, Frank Billings Kellogg was called (behind his back) “Nervous Nellie.” Last week his successor, Henry Lewis Stimson, came close to earning for himself the nickname of “Hairbreadth Harry.”

At “Woodley,” his Washington home, Statesman Stimson was waiting on the second floor for dinner to be announced when he saw a shadowy form at the window, heard footsteps on the porch roof. Cricket, his Scotch terrier, jumped up, growled a warning. Secretary Stimson threw open the window, rushed downstairs, outdoors, saw somebody sliding down a porch pillar, running away into the night.

Racing back into the house, Statesman Stimson snatched up the telephone, tried to get the police. The operator annoyed him with many questions. Ten minutes later three carloads of police arrived, searched “Woodley’s” grounds, departed without finding any burglar. Irritated at the police’s delay, Secretary Stimson remarked: “If it had been a fire, I’d have been burned up before they got here. . . . Cricket is our hero today.”