He took off his hat to Mr. Dyke, and smiled at him with artless superiority, insomuch that the elderly clerk’s sixty years were disconcerted, and the Cerberus seemed to dwindle into the bumpkin!  This young fellow, a good deal less than half Mr. Dyke’s age, was yet a far older man of the world than he.  Not that his appearance suggested the kind of maturity which results from abnormal or distorted development,—­on the contrary, he was thoroughly genial and healthful.  But that power and assurance of eye and lip, generally bought only at the price of many years’ buffetings, given and taken, were here married to the first flush and vigor of young manhood.

“My name is Helwyse; I have come from Europe to see Mr. Amos MacGentle,” said the visitor, courteously.

“Helwyse!—­Hel—­” repeated Mr. Dyke, having seemingly quite forgotten himself.  His customary manner to strangers implied that he knew, better than they did, who they were and what they wanted; and that what he knew was not much to their credit.  But he could only open his mouth and stare at this Helwyse.

“Mr. MacGentle is an old friend; run in and tell him I’m here, and you will see.”  The young man put his hand kindly on the elderly clerk’s shoulder, much as though the latter were a gaping school-boy, and directed him gently towards the inner door.

Mr. Dyke regained his voice by an effort, though still lacking complete self-command.  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Helwyse, sir,—­of course, of course,—­it didn’t seem possible,—­so long, you know,—­but I remembered the voice and the face and the name,—­I never forget,—­but, by George, sir, can you really be—?”

“I see you have a good memory; you are Dyke, aren’t you?” And Mr. Helwyse threw back his head and laughed, perhaps at the clerk’s bewildered face.  At all events, the latter laughed, too, and they both shook hands very heartily.

“Beg pardon again, Mr. Helwyse, I’ll speak to the President,” said Mr. Dyke, and stepped into the sanctuary of sanctuaries.

Mr. MacGentle was taking a nap.  He was seventy years old, and could drop asleep easily.  When he slept, however lightly and briefly, he was pretty sure to dream; and if awakened suddenly, his dream would often prolong itself, and mingle with passing events, which would themselves put on the semblance of unreality.  On the present occasion the sound of Helwyse’s voice had probably crept through the door, and insinuated itself into his dreaming brain.

Mr. Dyke was too much excited to remark the President’s condition.  He put his mouth close to the old gentleman’s ear, and said, in an emphatic and penetrating undertone,—­

“Here’s your old friend Helwyse, who died in Europe two years ago, come back again, younger than ever!”

If the confidential clerk expected his superior to echo his own bewilderment, he was disappointed.  Mr. MacGentle unclosed his eyes, looked up, and answered rather pettishly,—­