In the dining room Jefferson had devised a dumb-waiter at either end of the mantelpiece. These ingenious carriers descended into the basement close by the wine cellars and were used to bring things up from the cool rooms below by an easy pull on the rope. Not long since he had found a man in the dining room fascinated by the device and happily running the carriers up and down. “What do you reckon he’s got this here for?” he demanded of Jefferson. “Was he fixing a place to hide quick from the Injuns?” Courteously Jefferson explained the working of the device. “It has never talked back in all the years it has been in operation,” he said, “so we call it a dumb-waiter.” “These rich people got it mighty fine,” commented the stranger. “My old lady took a fancy to that bed he’s got in yonder,” said the intruder blandly, “one pulls up out of the way in daytime. We only got a two-room house. Be mighty handy to have one of them there, put the young-uns in it, and haul ’em out of sight when we get tired of their racket. All these young-uns ain’t Jefferson’s, I figure? Got quite a passel of ’em around, ain’t he?” “Most of these are my grandchildren—some are nieces and nephews. Are those your children in there?” Jefferson pointed with some annoyance to four towheaded youngsters, none of them too clean, who were bouncing up and down on the tapestried seats of the gilt chairs in the drawing room. “Yeh, them’s my brats. Reckon they’re gettin’ kind of hungry. Old lady said we’d ought to leave ’em home down Culpepper way but I said, No, this here Thomas Jefferson was the people’s friend, even if he did get to be president, and they’d ought to git a chance to see him. He around here any place?” “I am Thomas Jefferson,” said the ex-president coolly. “And I suggest that you educate your children to have respect for the property of other people, sir. Those chairs they are jumping about on were brought all the way from France.” The stranger stared incredulously at the elderly figure before him. Shabby old brown coat. Faded velveteen breeches. Home-knit hose that showed signs of much mending, and, most unbelievable of all, a pair of old run-down carpet slippers. “Law, sir!” he exclaimed. “I took you for a butler or a footman or something. You, Caleb and Beulah! Get away from them fancy cheers. Git outside, all you-uns, and go sit in the wagon.”