But so far as any surprise or discomfiture showed itself on his face, the President seemed to be perfectly accustomed to having strange little girls invade his sanctum, break in on his sacred quiet, pour forth an incoherent tale, and end up by bursting into a flood of tears, and submitting to be taken into his arms to be comforted. He mopped away Cricket’s tears most scientifically, and presently pulled still another handkerchief from some other pocket.
Soon the storm passed, and Cricket, spent with fatigue, found her curly head nestled as confidingly against the President’s shoulder as if it had been her father’s, with only a long-drawn, sobbing breath now and then.
“Now, my little girl, I want to know more about all this,” said the kindly voice, when she was quite calm and quiet again. “You see, I don’t know who my little friend is, yet, either,” he added, smiling down into the gray eyes, in which all the usual mischief and light were nearly drowned out.
“Oh, I quite forgot,” exclaimed Cricket, apologetically, instantly sitting up. “I beg your pardon, if you please. I meant to tell you the very first thing that we are Doctor Ward’s daughters, and then I went and cried, and I’m so ashamed, for, indeed, I’m not a cry-baby, truly I’m not, and I don’t see what made me cry.”
The earnest little voice and wistful eyes emphasised the words.
The President hid a smile.
“I’m sure you’re not, my little friend. So you are Doctor Ward’s little daughters.” He held out his hand to Eunice, also, who immediately found herself within the kind shelter of his encircling arm.
“Doctor Ward of——Street? Then I know your father very well indeed, and am very glad to know the children of a friend I value so much; but I wish it had been in some way pleasanter to them. But now let’s talk business first,” with a smile. “Suppose I ask you some questions and you answer them. That will be best.”
Every qualm gone now, and sure that they were in the presence of a kindly judge, Cricket, who was still spokesman, answered the few clear, direct questions that the President put. He was soon convinced of the fact that the children’s own impulse was at the bottom of the expedition,—that no older person had any knowledge of it, and that the loving, loyal little hearts had carried out their undertaking, instinctively feeling that here was a case where weakness was stronger than strength.
Then came a few minutes of silence, during which the President meditated, knitting his brow, and Eunice and Cricket gazed breathlessly at him. What would he say? Donald’s fate seemed hanging in the balance.
At last the President opened his lips:
“Won’t you have a cup of tea with me? I usually take one about this time, if I am at home.”
That was all. The girls exchanged startled glances.
The President intercepted them, and smiled down at the eager little faces so tender and reassuring a smile that they felt the load roll off their hearts. It was all right, somehow, they instantly felt.
Cricket smiled back with such glad confidence and good comradeship that the President suddenly stooped and kissed the sweet, upturned little face.
“Yes, we’ll make it all right somehow,” he said, answering her unspoken thought; and then, gently putting her down, he went across the room and rang a bell. The trim maid presently responded to the order given, with a tray containing tea and fancy cakes.
The President put his little guests in low chairs, and served them himself, talking all the time as if he were one of their intimate friends. They soon chattered away fearlessly in response, telling him about their school life and the theatricals, and their mother and brother and sisters, and repeating some of the twin’s funny sayings and doings, as if he had no other interests than theirs.
“Zaidie is the funniest child,” said Cricket, confidentially. “She has the queerest ideas. The other day, ’Liza said to her, ‘Don’t wiggle so when I’m dressing you, because I can’t get on your dress.’ And Zaidie said, ‘If you’re dressing me when you put on my dress, when God puts skin on people, is that called skinning them?’”
“She is young to be interested in etymology,” said the President, laughing; “but that is certainly logical.”
“And the other day,” chimed in Eunice, “mamma had been reading the first chapter of Genesis to the twins, and she asked Zaidie what God made the world out of, and Zaidie said, ‘Out of words,’ and mamma asked her what she meant, and Zaidie said, ‘He made it out of words, because He said, “Let there be light and there was light,” and everything else like that, so He must have made it out of the words, ’cause there wasn’t anything else to make it out of.’”
“I want to make Zaidie’s acquaintance,” said the President. “She should have a chair in a theological seminary one of these days. Now, my little friends, it’s nearly five o’clock, entirely too late for you to go home alone. I’ll send somebody with you—or stay—I’ll go myself. Could I see your father a few minutes, do you think?”
“Couldn’t you come home to dinner?” said Cricket, eagerly. “You could see papa, anyway, for he’s always home at half-past five. He doesn’t see any office people then, either.”
“Some other day I shall hope to have the pleasure of dining with you, and making acquaintance with those interesting brothers and sisters of yours,” said the President, smiling his delightful smile, as he rose. “To-night, however, I’ll just see your father for five minutes, as I have an engagement, later.”
So, escorted by the President of the great university, homeward went two ecstatic little maids, in a perfect tumult of triumph and happiness. Cricket could hardly keep her elastic feet on the pavement.
“The hole in my stomach is all gone,” she confided to Eunice’s ear, “and I’m so happy that I could walk straight up the side of that house.”
Mrs. Ward, who was watching from the parlour window for their arrival,—not anxiously, however, as she supposed they were safe with Emily Drayton,—was filled with amazement at the sight of their escort.
“Your little daughters have given me the great pleasure of a call,” he said, courteously. “They will perhaps explain better than I can, but I cordially hope it was a pleasure that may be soon repeated. And now, may I see your husband for five minutes or so?”
And then, when the President was safely in papa’s study, the eager children poured out the story of the afternoon to mamma’s astonished ears.