emplation of the White House till the last. The White
House, which Cynthia thought the finest and most graceful mansion in all
the world, in its simplicity and dignity, a fitting dwelling for the
chosen of the nation. Under the little tree which Jethro had mentioned,
Ephraim stood bareheaded before the walls which had sheltered Lincoln,
which were now the home of the greatest of his captains, Grant: and
wondrous emotions played upon the girl's spirit, too, as she gazed. They
forgot the present in the past and the future, and they did not see the
two gentlemen who had left the portico some minutes before and were now
coming toward them along the sidewalk.

The two gentlemen, however, slowed their steps involuntarily at a sight
which was uncommon, even in Washington. The girl's arm was in the
soldier's, and her face, which even in repose had a true nobility, now
was alight with an inspiration that is seen but seldom in a lifetime. In
marble, could it have been wrought by a great sculptor, men would have
dreamed before it of high things.

The two, indeed, might have stood for a group, the girl as the spirit,
the man as the body which had risked and suffered all for it, and still
held it fast. For the honest face of the soldier reflected that spirit as
truly as a mirror.

Ephraim was aroused from his thoughts by Cynthia nudging his arm. He
started, put on his hat, and stared very hard at a man smoking a cigar
who was standing before him. Then he stiffened and raised his hand in an
involuntary salute. The man smiled. He was not very tall, he had a
closely trimmed light beard that was growing a little gray, he wore a
soft hat something like Ephraim's, a black tie on a white pleated shirt,
and his eyeglasses were pinned to his vest. His eyes were all kindness.

"How do you do, Comrade?" he said, holding out his hand.

"General," said Ephraim, "Mr. President," he added, correcting himself,
"how be you?" He shifted the green umbrella, and shook the hand timidly
but warmly.

"General will do," said the President, with a smiling glance at the tall
senator beside him, "I like to be called General."

"You've growed some older, General," said Ephraim, scanning his face with
a simple reverence and affection, "but you hain't changed so much as I'd
a thought since I saw you whittlin' under a tree beside the Lacy house in
the Wilderness."

"My duty has changed some," answered the President, quite as simply. He
added with a touch