As they got
closer, they could make out the figures of three men on the porch
sitting in very comfortable-looking rocking chairs. They seemed to be
just enjoying the warm lazy sounds of the garden -- the droning of a bee
collecting pollen, birds chirping, and the soft rippling sound of water
from nearby fountains.
In front of the men, on a little round table, was a pitcher of what
looked to Dorothy, like ice-cold lemonade.
As if reading her thoughts, one of the men said, "Come and join us for
lemonade, my dear. You look thirsty -- all of you, please come and sit down."
The man brought out some more rocking chairs and said, "Welcome to
Presidentland."
Dorothy looked up quickly. He had looked very familiar to her when she
first saw him. Then it dawned on her. Presidentland! Of course! The man
was none other than President Andrew Jackson! Dorothy gasped. She had
seen President Jackson's face in an American History book. "But sir,"
she said. "I-I thought you were...."
"Dead?" interceded the man. Then he chuckled. "No, not at all, my dear
young lady.
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