CHAPTER IV

Cynthia was deprived, too, of that thrilling first view of the capital from the train which she had pictured, for night had fallen when they reached Washington likewise.  As the train slowed down, she leaned a little out of the window and looked at the shabby houses and shabby streets revealed by the flickering lights in the lamp-posts.  Finally they came to a shabby station, were seized upon by a grinning darky hackman, who would not take no for an answer, and were rattled away to the hotel.  Although he had been to Washington but once in his life before, as a Lincoln elector, Jethro was greeted as an old acquaintance by this clerk also.

“Glad to see you, Judge,” said he, genially.  “Train late?  You’ve come purty nigh, missin’ supper.”

A familiar of great men, the clerk was not offended when he got no response to his welcome.  Cynthia and Ephraim, intent on getting rid of some of the dust of their journey, followed the colored hallboy up the stairs.  Jethro stood poring over the register, when a distinguished-looking elderly gentleman with a heavy gray beard and eyes full of shrewdness and humor paused at the desk to ask a question.

“Er—­Senator?”

The senator (for such he was, although he did not represent Jethro’s state) turned and stared, and then held out his hand with unmistakable warmth.

“Jethro Bass,” he exclaimed, “upon my word!  What are you doing in Washington?”

Jethro took the hand, but he did not answer the question.

“Er—­Senator—­when can I see the President?”

“Why,” answered the senator, somewhat taken aback, “why, to-night, if you like.  I’m going to the White House in a few minutes and I think I can arrange it.”

“T-to-morrow afternoon—­t-to-morrow afternoon?”

The senator cast his eye over the swallow-tail coat and stove-pipe hat tilted back, and laughed.

“Thunder!” he exclaimed, “you haven’t changed a bit.  I’m beginning to look like an old man; but that milk-and-crackers diet seems to keep you young, Jethro.  I’ll fix it for to-morrow afternoon.”

“W-what time—­two?”

“Well, I’ll fix it for two to-morrow afternoon.  I never could understand you, Jethro; you don’t do things like other men.  Do I smell gunpowder?  What’s up now—­what do you want to see Grant about?”

Jethro cast his eye around the corridor, where a few men were taking their ease after supper, and looked at the senator mysteriously.

“Any place where we can talk?” he demanded.

“We can go into the writing room and shut the door,” answered the senator, more amused than ever.

When Cynthia came downstairs, Jethro was standing with the gentleman in the corridor leading to the dining room, and she heard the gentleman say as he took his departure:—­“I haven’t forgotten what you did for us in ’70, Jethro.  I’ll go right along and see to it now.”