.

"He never would ask for a pension, General," said Cynthia.

"What!" exclaimed the President in real astonishment, "are you so rich as
all that?" and he glanced at the green umbrella.

"Well, General," said Ephraim, uncomfortably, "I never liked the notion
of gittin' paid for it. You see, I was what they call a war-Democrat."

"Good Lord!" said the President, but more to himself. "What do you do
now?"

"I callate to make harness," answered Ephraim.

"Only he can't make it any more on account of his rheumatism, Mr.
President," Cynthia put in.

"I think you might call me General, too," he said, with the grace that
many simple people found inherent in him. "And may I ask your name, young
lady?"

"Cynthia Wetherell--General," she said smiling.

"That sounds more natural," said the President, and then to Ephraim,
"Your daughter?"

"I couldn't think more of her if she was," answered Ephraim; "Cynthy's
pulled me through some tight spells. Her mother was my cousin, General.
My name's Prescott--Ephraim Prescott."

"Ephraim Prescott!" ejaculated the President, sharply, taking his cigar
from his mouth, "Ephraim Prescott!"

"Prescott--that's right--Prescott, General," repeated Ephraim, sorely
puzzled by these manifestations of amazement.

"What did you come to Washington for?" asked the President.

"Well, General, I kind of hate to tell you--I didn't intend to mention
that. I guess I won't say nothin' about it," he added, "we've had such a
sociable time. I've always b'en a little mite ashamed of it, General,
ever since 'twas first mentioned."

"Good Lord!" said the President again, and then he looked at Cynthia.
"What is it, Miss Cynthia?" he asked.

It was now Cynthia's turn to be a little confused.

"Uncle Jethro--that is, Mr. Bass" (the President nodded), "went to Cousin
Eph when he couldn't make harness any more and said he'd give him the
Brampton post-office."

The President's eyes met the senator's, and both gentlemen laughed.
Cynthia bit her lip, not seeing any cause for mirth in her remark, while
Ephraim looked uncomfortable and mopped the perspiration from his brow.

"He said he'd give it to him, did he?" said the President. "Is Mr. Bass
your uncle?"

"Oh, no, General," replied Cynthia, "he's really no relation. He's done
everything for me, and I live with him since my father died. He was going
to meet us here," she continued, looking around hurriedly, "I'm sure I
can't think what's kept him."