Edward was not quite sure now whether he was on his head or his feet.

As he drove along with the President and his host, the President asked the boy about himself, what he was doing, etc.  On arriving at Mr. Low’s house, the President went up-stairs, and in a few moments came down with his speech in full, written in his own hand.  Edward assured him he would copy it, and return the manuscript in the morning.

The President took out his watch.  It was then after midnight.  Musing a moment, he said:  “You say you are an office boy; what time must you be at your office?”

“Half past eight, sir.”

“Well, good night,” he said, and then, as if it were a second thought:  “By the way, I can get another copy of the speech.  Just turn that in as it is, if they can read it.”

Afterward, Edward found out that, as a matter of fact, it was the President’s only copy.  Though the boy did not then appreciate this act of consideration, his instinct fortunately led him to copy the speech and leave the original at the President’s stopping-place in the morning.

And for all his trouble, the young reporter was amply repaid by seeing that The Eagle was the only paper which had a verbatim report of the President’s speech.

But the day was not yet done!

That evening, upon reaching home, what was the boy’s astonishment to find the following note: 

MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND:——­

I have been telling Mrs. Hayes this morning of what you told me at the dinner last evening, and she was very much interested.  She would like to see you, and joins me in asking if you will call upon us this evening at eight-thirty.

Very faithfully yours,

RUTHERFORD B. HAYES.

Edward had not risen to the possession of a suit of evening clothes, and distinctly felt its lack for this occasion.  But, dressed in the best he had, he set out, at eight o’clock, to call on the President of the United States and his wife!

He had no sooner handed his card to the butler than that dignitary, looking at it, announced:  “The President and Mrs. Hayes are waiting for you!” The ring of those magic words still sounds in Edward’s ears:  “The President and Mrs. Hayes are waiting for you!”—­and he a boy of sixteen!

Edward had not been in the room ten minutes before he was made to feel as thoroughly at ease as if he were sitting in his own home before an open fire with his father and mother.  Skilfully the President drew from him the story of his youthful hopes and ambitions, and before the boy knew it he was telling the President and his wife all about his precious Encyclopaedia, his evening with General Grant, and his efforts to become something more than an office boy.  No boy had ever so gracious a listener before; no mother could have been more tenderly motherly than the woman who sat opposite him and seemed so honestly interested in all that he told.  Not for a moment during all those two hours was he allowed to remember that his host and hostess were the President of the United States and the first lady of the land!