Page:The Angel of Lonesome Hill (1910).djvu/35

 to summon more than a whisper from his shrunken throat.

"Yes, Mr. President, I do—he's my boy!"

"Your—boy! Yes—that's the name—how stupid of me—I beg your pardon, Mr. Dale—a thousand times."

They stared a long while at each other and Dale felt the fears which had fled before his gracious reception returning to grip him by the heart; the speech he had prepared had fled; it had all happened so differently.

At last the President spoke: "Congress is just going out; it's the busy season, but I'll go through the papers to-night myself."

Dale walked to the window; perspiration was on his face, but he was very cold. He stood with locked