"How long since any message arrived from General Sherman?"
"Three days, my child. I know the hole he went in at, but I can't tell where he's going to come out——"
"If he ever comes out," Betty broke in bitterly.
"Oh, he'll come out somewhere!" the President laughed. "It's a habit of his. I've watched him for months—sometimes I can't hear from him for a week—but he always bobs up again and comes out with a whoop, too——"
"But we've no news!" she interrupted.
"No news has always been good news from Sherman——"
He paused and looked at his watch:
"Wait here. I'll be back in a few moments. We're bound to hear something to-day. I've an engagement with my Committee of Undertakers. They are waiting for me to deliver my corpse to them—and they are very restless about it because I haven't given up sooner, I'm full of foolish hopes. I'm going to adjourn them until we can get a message of some kind——"
He returned in half an hour and sat in silence for a long time listening to the steady, sharp click of the telegraph keys.
Betty was too blue to talk—too heartsick to move.