"Yes, Mr. President, I'm mighty glad to see you!" said the boy.
"I am glad to see you, Curtis," returned Mr. Roosevelt.
Then there came a white rose from the presidential desk for the mother, but after that father and mother might as well have faded away. Nobody existed save the President and the boy. The anteroom was full; in the Cabinet-room a delegation waited to be addressed. But affairs of state were at a complete standstill as, with boyish zeal, the President became oblivious to all but the boy before him.
"Now, Curtis, I've got some pictures here of bears that a friend of mine has just shot. Look at that whopper, fifteen hundred pounds—that's as much as a horse weighs, you know. Now, my friend shot him"—and it was a toss-up who was the more keenly interested, the real boy or the man-boy, as picture after picture came out and bear adventure crowded upon the heels of bear adventure.
"Gee, he's a corker, all right!" came from the boy at one point, and then, from the President: "That's right, he is a corker. Now you see his head here"—and then both were off again.
The private secretary came in at this point and whispered in the President's ear.
"I know, I know. I'll see him later. Say that I am very busy now." And the face beamed with smiles.
"Now, Mr. President—" began the father.
"No, sir; no, sir; not at all. Affairs can wait. This is a long-standing engagement between Curtis and me, and that must come first. Isn't that so, Curtis?"
Of course the boy agreed.