"I think you'd better let me have ten or fifteen minutes on that report to the President, Abbott."
"I will, Mr. Secretary. By the way, here is the data you asked me to get for your speech at the Willard to-night."
Enoch nodded, pocketed the notes and began to dictate. The day went on as usual, but it seemed to Jonas, when he helped the Secretary to dress for dinner that night that he was unusually weary.
"How come you to be so tired to-night, boss?" he asked finally.
"I don't know, old man! Jonas, how long since I've had a vacation?"
"Seven years, boss."
"Sometimes I think I need one, Jonas."
"Need one! Boss, they work you to death! They all say so. Your own work's enough to kill three men. And now they do say the President is calling on you for all the hard jobs he don't dare trust nobody else to do. How come he don't do 'em hisself?"
"Oh, I'm not doing more than my share, Jonas! But you and I'll have to have a vacation one of these days, sure. Maybe we'll go to Japan. I'll be home early, if I can make it, Jonas."
Jonas nodded, and looked out the window. "Carriage's here, sir," and Enoch ran quickly down the stairs. It was only eleven o'clock when he reached home. The rain had ceased at sundown and the night was humid and depressing. When Enoch was once more in his pajamas, he unlocked the desk drawer and, taking out the journal, he turned to the first page and began to read with absorbed interest.