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.