, "you know a parlor from a drawing-room.
What did you think of me when you saw me to-night?"

Stephen blushed furiously, and his tongue clave to the roof of his
mouth.

"I'll tell you," said Mr. Lincoln, with his characteristic smile, "you
thought that you wouldn't pick me out of a bunch of horses to race with
the Senator."

CHAPTER IV. THE QUESTION

Many times since Abraham Lincoln has been called to that mansion which
God has reserved for the patriots who have served Him also, Stephen
Brice has thought of that steaming night in the low-ceiled room of the
country tavern, reeking with the smell of coarse food and hot humanity.
He remembers vividly how at first his gorge rose, and recalls how
gradually there crept over him a forgetfulness of the squalidity and
discomfort. Then came a space gray with puzzling wonder. Then the
dawning of a worship for a very ugly man in a rumpled and ill-made coat.

You will perceive that there was hope for Stephen. On his shake-down
that night, oblivious to the snores of his companions and the droning of
the insects, he lay awake. And before his eyes was that strange, marked
face, with its deep lines that blended both humor and sadness there. It
was homely, and yet Stephen found himself reflecting that honesty was
just as homely, and plain truth. And yet both were beautiful to those
who had learned to love them. Just so this Mr. Lincoln.

He fell asleep wondering why Judge Whipple had sent him.

It was in accord with nature that reaction came with the morning. Such a
morning, and such a place!

He was awakened, shivering, by the beat of rain on the roof, and
stumbling over the prostrate forms of the four Beaver brothers, reached
the window. Clouds filled the sky, and Joshway, whose pallet was under
the sill, was in a blessed state of moisture.

No wonder some of his enthusiasm had trickled away!

He made his toilet in the wet under the pump outside; where he had to
wait his turn. And he rather wished he were going back to St. Louis.
He had an early breakfast of fried eggs and underdone bacon, and coffee
which made him pine for Hester's. The dishes were neither too clean nor
too plentiful, being doused in water as soon as ever they were out of
use.

But after breakfast the sun came out, and a crowd collected around the
tavern, although the air was chill and the muck deep in the street.
Stephen caught glimpses of Mr. Lincoln towering above the knots of
country politicia