"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