ned brick, and the pain of the shock caused him to bend
over and begin rubbing his gouty foot, with an exclamation that sounded
suspiciously like an oath. Where was the roguish humour now in the small
watery grey eyes? The gout, not "the sex," had him ignominiously by the
heel.

"If you please, General, do you remember me?" I enquired timidly.

Still clasping his foot, he turned a crimson glare upon me.
"Damnation!--I mean Good Lord, have mercy on my toe, why should I
remember you?"

"It was on Church Hill almost four years ago, you promised," I suggested
as a gentle spur to his memory.

"And you expect me to remember what I promised four years ago?" he
rejoined with a sly twinkle. "Why, bless my soul, you're worse than a
woman."

"You asked me, sir, if I wanted to grow up and be President," I
returned, not without resentment.

Releasing his ankle abruptly, he stood up and slapped his thigh.

"Great Jehosaphat! If you ain't the little chap who was content to be
nothing less than God Almighty!" he exclaimed. "I've told that story a
hundred times if I've told it once."

"Then perhaps you'll help me a little, sir," I suggested.

"Help you to become God Almighty?" he chuckled.

"No, sir, help me to be the president of the Great South Midland and
Atlantic Railroad."

"Then you'll be satisfied with the lesser office, eh?"

"I shall, sir, if--if there isn't anything better."

Again he slapped his thigh and again he chuckled. "But I've got one boy
already. I don't want another," he protested. "Good Lord, one is bad
enough when he's not your own."

Whether or not he really supposed that I was a serious applicant for
adoption, I cannot say, but his face put on immediately an harassed and
suffering look.

"Have you ever had a twinge of gout, boy?" he enquired.

"No, sir."

"Then you're lucky--damned lucky. When you go to bed to-night you get
down on your knees and thank the Lord that you've never had a twinge of
gout. You can even eat a strawberry without feeling it, I reckon?"

I replied humbly that I certainly could if I ever got the chance.

"And yet you ain't satisfied--you're asking to be president of a damned
railroad--a boy who can eat a strawberry without feeling it!"

He moved on, limping slightly, and like a small persistent devil of
temptation, I kept at his elbow.

"Isn't there anything that you can do for me, sir?" I asked, at the
point of tears.

"Do for you? Bless my soul, boy, if I had