The President took the compliment as it was meant.
"I found it easier to run an army than I do to run a country," he said.
Ephraim's blue eyes flamed with indignation.
"I don't take no stock in the bull-dogs and the gold harness at Long Branch and—and all them lies the dratted newspapers print about you,"—Ephraim hammered his umbrella on the pavement as an expression of his feelings,—"and what's more, the people don't."
The President glanced at the senator again, and laughed a little, quietly.
"Thank you; Comrade," he said.
"You're a plain, common man," continued Ephraim, paying the highest compliment known to rural New England; "the people think a sight of you, or they wouldn't hev chose you twice, General."
"So you were in the Wilderness?" said the President, adroitly changing the subject.
"Yes, General. I was pressed into orderly duty the first day—that's when I saw you whittlin' under the tree, and you didn't seem to have no more consarn than if it had been a company drill. Had a cigar then, too. But the second day; May the 6th, I was with the regiment. I'll never forget that day," said Ephraim, warming to the subject, "when we was fightin' Ewell up and down the Orange Plank Road, playin' hide-and-seek with the Johnnies in the woods. You remember them woods, General?"
The President nodded, his cigar between his teeth. He looked as though the scene were coming back to him.