"
"Perhaps I had an interpreter?"
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"A very beautiful young woman, Mr. President," Ned answered serenely.
The hazel-grey eyes twinkled:
"What's her name, sir?"
"Miss Betty Winter."
"Not the daughter of that old grizzly bear who's always camping on my
trail?"
"The same, sir."
The swarthy face lighted with a radiant smile:
"What did she say about my Inaugural?"
"That it was the utterance of a wise, patient, great man."
Two big hands suddenly closed on Ned's and the tall figure bent low.
"Thank you for telling me that, my boy. It helps me after a hard day!"
"She said many other things, too, sir," Ned added.
"Did she?"
"With enthusiasm."
"Tell her to come to me," the President said slowly. "I want to talk to
her."
He paused, turned to his desk and seized a pen:
"I'll send a subpoena for her--that's better."
On one of his cards he quickly wrote:
"MY DEAR MISS WINTER:
"You are hereby summoned to immediately appear before the Chief
Magistrate to testify concerning grave matters of State.
A. LINCOLN."
He slipped his long arm around Ned's shoulder and walked with him to the
door:
"Serve that on her for me, will you, right away?"
With a nod and a smile, the reporter bowed and turned his steps toward
the Senator's house.
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