stout and very black man, wearing a broadcloth suit and a
silk hat, and seated a short distance from the door. On the seat by his
side stood a couple of valises. On one of them, the one nearest him, on
which his arm rested, was written, in white letters, plainly
legible,----

"H.M. Brown, M.C.
Washington, D.C."

Mr. Clayton's feelings at this discovery can better be imagined than
described. He hastily left the waiting-room, before the black gentleman,
who was looking the other way, was even aware of his presence, and,
walking rapidly up and down the platform, communed with himself upon
what course of action the situation demanded. He had invited to his
house, had come down to meet, had made elaborate preparations to
entertain on the following evening, a light-colored man,--a white man by
his theory, an acceptable guest, a possible husband for his daughter, an
avowed suitor for her hand. If the Congressman had turned out to be
brown, even dark brown, with fairly good hair, though he might not have
desired him as a son-in-law, yet he could have welcomed him as a guest.
But even this softening of the blow was denied him, for the man in the
waiting-room was palpably, aggressively black, with pronounced African
features and woolly hair, without apparently a single drop of redeeming
white blood. Could he, in the face of his well-known principles, his
lifelong rule of conduct, take this negro into his home and introduce
him to his friends? Could he subject his wife and daughter to the rude
shock of such a disappointment? It would be bad enough for them to learn
of the ghastly mistake, but to have him in the house would be twisting
the arrow in the wound.

Mr. Clayton had the instincts of a gentleman, and realized the delicacy
of the situation. But to get out of his difficulty without wounding the
feelings of the Congressman required not only diplomacy but dispatch.
Whatever he did must be done promptly; for if he waited many minutes the
Congressman would probably take a carriage and be driven to Mr.
Clayton's residence.

A ray of hope came for a moment to illumine the gloom of the situation.
Perhaps the black man was merely sitting there, and not the owner of the
valise! For there were two valises, one on each side of the supposed
Congressman. For obvious reasons he did not care to make the inquiry
himself, so he looked around for his companion, who came up a moment
later.

"Jack," he exclaimed excitedly, "I 'm afraid