“I think I came all the way from South America to see you,” she said.
“South America!”
“Yes, Colombia.”
“Colombia! There is a revolution in progress down there now. Did you come to see me about that? I can do nothing––”
The girl shook her head. “No,” she said, “it’s to prevent a revolution here in your own country that I think I have come to see you.”
They had by now reached the door of the Executive Mansion. Entering, the President summoned a maid, and turned the big-eyed girl over to her. “Bring her to my office,” he directed, “when she is ready.”
A little later the nameless girl from Simití again stood before the President of the United States.
“I have an important conference at ten,” he said, glancing at a clock. “But we have a few minutes before that time. Will you––may I ask you to tell me something about yourself?” he ventured. “You are feeling all right? No bad effects from the accident?” he added, looking apprehensively at her while he set out a chair.
The girl drew the chair close to his desk and sat down. “I know nothing about accidents,” she said quietly. Then, turning quite from that topic, she drew the President quickly into her thought and carried him off with her as on a magic carpet.