onger stood in such awe of their representative at
Washington.

However true Asaph's calculation might have been, Mr. Atkins made no
mention of politics. He was urbanity itself. He drew up to the table,
partook of the ice cream and cake, and greeted his friends and neighbors
with charming benignity.

"Wan't it sweet of him to come?" whispered Miss Phinney to Keturah.
"And him so nice and everyday and sociable. And when Cap'n Whittaker's
runnin' against his friend, as you might say."

Keturah replied with a dubious shake of the head.

"I think Captain Cyrus is goin' to get into trouble," she said. "I've
preached to Bailey more 'n a little about keepin' clear, but he won't."

"Games in t'other room now," ordered Captain Cy. But Mr. Atkins held up
his hand.

"Pardon me, just a moment, Cyrus, if you please," he said. "I feel that
on this happy occasion, it is my duty and pleasure to propose a toast."
He held his lemonade glass aloft. "Permit me," he proclaimed, "to wish
many happy birthdays and long life to Miss--I beg pardon, Cyrus, but
what is your little friend's name?"

"Emily Richards Thayer," replied the captain, carried away by enthusiasm
and off his guard for once.

"To Em--" began Heman. Then he paused and for the first time in his
public life seemed at a loss for words. "What?" he asked, and his hand
shook. "I fear I didn't catch the name."

"No wonder," laughed Mr. Tidditt. "Cy's so crazy to-night he'd forget
his own name. Know what you said, Cy? You said she was Emily Richards
THAYER! Haw! haw! She ain't a Thayer, Heman; her last name's Thomas.
She's Emily Richards Thayer's granddaughter though. Her granddad was
John Thayer, over to Orham. Good land! I forgot. Well, what of it, Cy?
'Twould have to be known some time."

Everyone looked at Captain Cy then. No one observed Mr. Atkins for the
moment. When they did turn their gaze upon the great man he had sunk
back in his chair, the glass of lemonade was upset upon the cloth before
him, and he, with a very white face, was staring at Emily Richards
Thomas.

"What's the matter, Heman?" asked the captain anxiously. "Ain't sick,
are you?"

The congressman started.

"Oh, no!" he said hurriedly. "Oh, no! but I'm afraid I've soiled your
cloth. It was awkward of me. I--I really, I apologize--I--"

He wiped his face with his handkerchief. Captain Cy laughed.

"Oh, never mind the tablecloth," he said. "I cal'late it's too soiled
already to be hurt by a bat