“Hugh Craft! How came you here?”
Recovering himself, the man replied, but with embarrassment:
“Well! that’s very good, indeed! Asking a man what he is doing in his own father’s house!” and he gave a quiet, undecided laugh.
“Mr. Cobb, my son. Hugh, this is Mr. Junius Cobb; you know who he is,” with emphasis on the pronoun.
Junius Cobb rubbed his eyes in confusion. He comprehended the situation at once, and also remembered the President’s words of the night before, when he said, “Hugh Craft still lives.”
Hugh Craft bowed, and moved behind his sister’s chair, and whispered:
“Is he dangerous?”
Cobb, as he turned around, overheard the words, and smiled.
“No, Hugh,” he exclaimed; “not dangerous, but amazed. You are the exact image and counterpart of him who was my dearest and best friend, your—” he hesitated a moment—“your great-great-grandfather.”
Hugh and Mollie looked bewildered, while Mr. Craft’s face wore a smile. The situation was too comical, and all burst into a hearty laugh, Cobb joining the others.