Page:The Angel of Lonesome Hill (1910).djvu/42

 He stood for an instant at the window, looking over the fountain, the river, the tall white Washington needle which pierced the sky, then quickly stepped to the table and lifted a glass:

"Mr. Dale, I propose a toast—The Angel of Lonesome Hill' . . . her liberty!"

As they returned to the office there was nothing extraordinary in the President's vigorous step—that was known the world around. There was something most unusual, however, in the radiant soul—the splendid ancient youth of the quaint figure by his side.

At the door where the policeman had watched the waiting pilgrim the President shook the old man's hand.