"Hand me a pencil and pad of paper."
Phœbe executed her order with quick heavy tread, and stood looking while her mistress scribbled a note to her husband.
"Take that to the President, and see that he comes."
Phœbe courtesied heavily:
"Yassam, I fetch him!"
The Hon. Salmon P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury, was engaged with the President when Phœbe presented herself at the door of the executive office.
John Hay tried in vain to persuade her to wait a few minutes. Phœbe brushed the young diplomat aside with scant ceremony.
"G'way fum here, Boy!" she laughed. "Miss Ma'y sent me ter fetch 'im right away. An' I gwine ter fetch 'im!"
She threw her ponderous form straight through the door and made for the Chief Magistrate.
Mr. Chase was delivering an important argument, but it had no weight with her.