"Just a little spell of nerves, Phoebe, something that never worries your happy soul----"
"No, Ma'am, dat dey don't!" the black woman laughed.
Phoebe executed her order with quick heavy tread, and stood looking while her mistress scribbled a note to her husband.
"Take that to the President, and see that he comes."
The Hon. Salmon P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury, was engaged with the President when Phoebe presented herself at the door of the executive office.
John Hay tried in vain to persuade her to wait _a_ few minutes. Phoebe brushed the young diplomat aside with scant ceremony.
"G'way fum here, Boy!" she laughed. "Miss Ma'y sent me ter fetch 'im right away. An' I gwine ter fetch 'im!"
She threw her ponderous form straight through the door and made for the Chief Magistrate.
Mr. Chase was delivering an important argument, but it had no weight with her.
She bowed and courtesied to the President.
"Excuse me, Governor," he said with a smile. "Good morning, Phoebe."
She extended the note with a second dip of her ponderous form:
"Yassah, Miss Ma'y send dis here excommunication ter you, sah!"
"You don't say so?" the President cried, breaking into a laugh.
"Then I'm excommunicated, Governor!" he nodded to Chase. "I must read the edict." He adjusted his glasses and glanced at the note:
"Yassah, she's sufferin' fum a little spell er nervous prosperity, sah--dat's all--sah----"
The President roared with laughter, in which Phoebe joined.
"Thank you, Phoebe, tell her I'll be there in a minute----"
"I hope you'll always bring my messages from your mistress----"
"I tries ter be, sah!" she laughed, swinging herself through the door.
The President threw his big hands behind his head, leaned back, and laughed until his giant frame shook.
The dignified and solemn Secretary of the Treasury scowled, rose, and stalked from the room.
"It's all right," the Secretary replied, with a wave of his hand.
"I hope nothing serious, Mother?" he said tenderly.
"I've a miserable headache again. Why were you so long?"
"And what did the old snake in the grass want this time?"
The President glanced toward the door uneasily, sat down by her side and touched her hand:
"You should be more careful, Mother. Servants shouldn't hear you say things like that----"