ting room and shut the door," answered the
senator, more amused than ever.

When Cynthia came downstairs, Jethro was standing with the gentleman in
the corridor leading to the dining room, and she heard the gentleman say
as he took his departure:--"I haven't forgotten what you did for us in
'70, Jethro. I'll go right along and see to it now."

Cynthia liked the gentleman's looks, and rightly surmised that he was
one of the big men of the nation. She was about to ask Jethro his name
when Ephraim came limping along and put the matter out of her mind, and
the three went into the almost empty dining room. There they were served
with elaborate attention by a darky waiter who had, in some mysterious
way, learned Jethro's name and title. Cynthia reflected with pride that
Jethro, too, was one of the nation's great men, who could get anything
he wanted simply by coming to the capital and asking for it.

Ephraim was very much excited on finding himself in Washington, the
sight of the place reviving in his mind a score of forgotten incidents
of the war. After supper they found seats in a corner of the corridor,
where a number of people were scattered about, smoking and talking.
It did not occur to Jethro or Cynthia, or even to Ephraim, that these
people were all of the male sex, and on the other hand the guests of
the hotel were apparently used once in a while to see a lady from the
country seated there. At any rate, Cynthia was but a young girl, and
her two companions, however unusual their appearance, were clearly most
respectable. Jethro, his hands in his pockets and his hat tilted, sat
on the small of his back rapt in meditation; Cynthia, her head awhirl,
looked around her with sparkling eyes; while Ephraim was smoking a cigar
he had saved for just such a festal occasion. He did not see the stout
man with the button and corded hat until he was almost on top of him.

"Eph Prescott, I believe!" exclaimed the stout one. "How be you,
Comrade?"

Heedless of his rheumatism, Ephraim sprang to his feet and dropped the
cigar, which the stout one picked up with much difficulty.

"Well," said Ephraim, in a voice that shook with unwonted emotion, "you
kin skin me if it ain't Amasy Beard!" His eye travelled around Amasa's
figure. "Wouldn't a-knowed you, I swan, I wouldn't. Why, when I seen you
last, Amasy, your stomach was havin' all it could do to git hold of your
backbone."

Cynthia laughed outright, and even Jethro sat up and smi