down from Bar Harbor to receive it, and with the secretary
took the local train to Stillwater.

The reception extended to him there is still remembered by the
ambassador as one of the happiest incidents of his distinguished career.
Never since he came to represent his imperial Majesty in the Western
republic had its barbarians greeted him in a manner in any way so nearly
approaching his own idea of what was his due.

"This ambassador," Hines had explained to the mayor of Stillwater,
who was also the proprietor of its largest department store, "is the
personal representative of the Sultan. So we've got to treat him right."

"It's exactly," added Stetson, "as though the Sultan himself were
coming."

"And so few crowned heads visit Stillwater," continued Hines, "that we
ought to show we appreciate this one, especially as he comes to pay the
highest honor known to Europe to one of our townsmen."

The mayor chewed nervously on his cigar.

"What'd I better do?" he asked.

"Mr. Stetson here," Hines pointed out, "has lived in Turkey, and he
knows what they expect. Maybe he will help us."

"Will you?" begged the mayor.

"I will," said Stetson.

Then they visited the college authorities. Chancellor Black and most
of the faculty were on their vacations. But there were half a dozen
professors still in their homes around the campus, and it was pointed
out to them that the coming honor to one lately of their number
reflected glory upon the college and upon them, and that they should
take official action.

It was also suggested that for photographic purposes they should wear
their academic robes, caps, and hoods. To these suggestions, with
alacrity--partly because they all loved Doctor Gilman and partly because
they had never been photographed by a moving-picture machine--they all
agreed. So it came about that when the ambassador, hot and cross and
dusty stepped off the way-train at Stillwater station he found to
his delighted amazement a red carpet stretching to a perfectly new
automobile, a company of the local militia presenting arms, a committee,
consisting of the mayor in a high hat and white gloves and three
professors in gowns and colored hoods, and the Stillwater silver
Cornet Band playing what, after several repetitions, the ambassador was
graciously pleased to recognize as his national anthem.

The ambassador forgot that he was hot and cross. He forgot that he was
dusty. His face radiated satisfaction and pers