THE ANGEL OF
my hired hands. I've got to keep so many of you down here I can't afford one on the farm. I want to see the President—give him this letter—it's from Judge Sylvester Long, of Point Elizabeth!"
The youth vanished and Dale resumed his chair.
He was looking across the lawn when a sudden alertness came into the scene; the silk-hatted line of callers stepped aside; those who were seated arose; newspaper correspondents turned with vigilant ears. A nervous voice inquired, "Where is Mr. John Dale?"
The President stood before him, dressed in white flannel, then smilingly grasped his hand with a blast of welcome: "I'm delighted to meet the friend of Judge Long!" Taking
[22]
