WASHINGTON! I say Washington!" Throughout a big shed, filled for the most part with huge pieces of machinery, echoed the voice of Professor Amos Henderson. He did not look up from a small engine over which he was bending. "Washington! Where are you? Why don't you answer me?" From somewhere underneath an immense pile of iron, steel and aluminum came the voice of a colored man. "Yas sir, Perfesser, I'se goin' t' saggasiate my bodily presence in yo' contiguous proximity an' attend t' yo' immediate conglomerated prescriptions at th' predistined period. Yas, sir!".
