February slipped into March. One cold, rainy morning Abbott, with a
broad smile on his face, came in to take dictation.
"What's happened, Abbott?" asked Enoch. "Some one left you some money?"
"Better than that!" exclaimed Charley. "I dined at the Indian
Commissioner's last night and whom do you think I took out? Miss
Allen!"
A slow red suffused Enoch's forehead and died out. "When did she
return to Washington?" he asked, quietly.
"A day or so ago. She is studying at the Smithsonian. She says she'll
be here two months."
"She is well, I hope," said Enoch.
"She looks simply glorious!"
Enoch nodded. "Instead of dictating letters, this morning, Abbott,
suppose you start the visitors this way. Somehow, the thought of
wading through that pile, right now, sickens me."
Charley's face showed surprise, but he rose at once. "Mr. Cheney's
been waiting for an hour out there with an interesting chap from the
western field. Perhaps you'd better see them before I let the
committee from California in."
Cheney came first. "Mr. Secretary, one of my men is in from Arizona.
He is very much worked up over Brown's last effort and he's got so much
to say that I thought you'd better meet him. Incidentally, he's a very
fine geologist.
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