Bewciffsins
Bellefonte, Pa., March 30, 1928
=
TAD LINCOLN’S SPY.
Tad’s father and mother talked in
a worried way at the breakfast table
about an aunt who was visiting them.
Colonel Baker, the police detective,
had notified them that she was smug-
gling quinine through the Rebel lines
into Richmond.
“I'm terribly humiliated!” said his
mother. “She must go home to Ken-
tucky, at once. I wish,” with a little
smile, “that it was one of your rela-
tives, Abr’am, instead of mine! The
country’s so sure that I'm a Southern
sympathizer that if this gets out it’ll
settle me in their minds, for good and
all.”
“Well,” said Tad’s father, “they’ve
said so many worse things about me,
that being called a Rebel sympathizer
would seem like a kindness. And I
reckon I wouldn’t feel too much hu-
miliated, if I were you. Postmaster-
General Blair's sister-in-law was put
in the Old Capital Prison yesterday
for the same offense. Blair's in an
awful stew about it.”
“What!” ejaculated his mother.
“Miss—"” she interrupted herself with
a glance at Tad, who was devouring
pancakes and molasses and missing
not a word of the conversation.
“What! Miss L. B. B.?” she went on.
“The same,” replied Tad’s father,
“and she’s sick or pretending to be
and Blair’s insisting that I do some-
thing. And, of course, whatever I do
for her, I'll have to do for aunty, and
vice versa. Miss B refuses to make
any promises so I can’t parole her.
That complicates the disposing of
aunty.”
“I'm very fond of Miss B,” said
Tad’s mother, “and I think she is of
me, though these days one never
knows.” She fell into a troubled si-
lence.
Tad racked his eight-year-old brain
to think of something cheerful to say.
Somehow since Willie’s death in Feb-
ruary, the meals had been uncomfort-
able. He was a little confused as to
whether it was the loss of his brother
or the war growing worse that in-
creased the feeling of sadness with
which he left the table each day.
There was a new worry for each
meal. Last night it had been General
McClellan’s slowness in capturing
Richmond.
Yet in spite of knowing that some-
thing horrid would be sure to come up
at breakfast, he had come down that
morning almost happy. In place of
his black suit, his mother had allowed
him to put on his Zouave uniform
with baggy red flannel pants and a
bright blue coat. Also there was sun-
shine: the happy sunshine of a May
.morning after a week of rain. The
family dining-room, so dreary when it
rained, was flooded with morning
light and gay with yellow tulips from
his mother’s gardens. The room did
not seem so large when there were
no shadows around the huge side-
boards.
Tad could think of no way to put
these thoughts into words that would
divert the conversation, so he deliber-
ately poured a flood of molasses over
his pancakes. But his mother did not
protest and his father did not wink
at him. The silence was horrible.
Suddenly his father broke it. “If
it’s nothing worse than contraband!
But news is going steadily to Rich-
mond from here. Cabinet news, as
well as war plans. Does aunty know
Miss B?”
“They’ve met at i2a here,” replied
his mother. “My dear, I wish you’d
let me go visit Miss B.”
“Miss L. B. B.,” appended Tad with
his mouth full.
“Taddie, you repeat anything you
hear at this table and I'll smack you.”
said his mother sharply.
His father was looking at her very
thoughfully. “Might not be a bad
idea,” he said, “I mean the visit!”
with a wink at Tad.
“I'm going too,” announced Tad.
“I want to see how a pwison looks.”
“If you come, you'll only see the
outside of it,” declared his mother.
“Why?” shrilled Tad indignantly.
“Because,” replied his mother, with
finality.
Thus it happened that very soon af-
ter breakfast, a pretty, rather plump
little lady, with black silk skirts bil-
lowing over a crinoline so huge that
the small boy in a Zouave uniform
seemed no more than the gay tassel
to a parasol, made their way up the
path to the door of the old Capitol,
now used as a war prison.
The guard at the entrance stared
with interest at the pair and smiled
at Tad, who whimpered when his
mother again refused to allow him
to enter with her and left him on the
door-step. J
“There’s a little girl yonder that
you can play with,” the guard sug-
gested.
“I don’t like gals,” growled Tad,
turning to stare, nevertheless.
A small park planted with trees
lay before the prison. On a bench
under a tiny magnolia sat a cuild
holding a hoop and staring at Tad.
She was a handsome little girl with
long, fair hair worn tight back from
her forehead under a round comb.
Tad, pushing his kepi over his ear,
sauntered toward her. He came to a
pause not a foot from the bench and
eyed the pantalettes and white stock-
ing exposed by the undulations of the
crinoline that distended her black
dimity skirts. Girls’ clothes were go
queer.
For a full moment neither child
spoke—then the little girl remarked:
“Well, Mr. Smarty, what are you
looking at?”
“On a boy, they’s dwa’s. I don’t
know what gals call ’em.”
“Dwa-a-s! You talk like a baby;
and you look like one too,” taking in
with scornful eyes of blue the round
cherubic face, the soft violet eyes and
the delicate mouth of the little boy.
“I'm no baby,” protested Tad an-
grily. “But I won't be able to say the
letta’ that comes befo’ s till they cut [al
something unda’ my tongue. I'm
eight. How old a’ you?”
“Ten. Let’s see what’s under your
old tongue.”
Tad obligingly opened his mouth
and the little. girl scrutinized the in-
terior thus exposed. :
“I don’t see anything in particular,”
she reported in a disappointed way.
“What’s your name?”
“Thomas. But eva-body calls me
Tad because when I was a baby Papa
called me Tadpole. What's you’
name ?”
+ “Rose. Is your mother going to
stay in prison?”
“Nope. She just went in to call on
anotha lady—a fwiend that’s been
giving medicine to the webels. My
aunt’s been doing it too. Maybe
they’ll put us all in jail just for that.
Then I'll kill all the gua-ds and get
us all out.”
Rose sniffed but looked at Tad a
trifle less disdainfully.
“Whea’ do yon live?” asked the
little boy.
“Oh, I just visit around,” answered
Rose vaguely. “Where ‘bouts do you
live 7”
“At the White House. My fatha’s
Pwesident!” tossing his head.
“Shucks! What a lie!” taking up
her stick and preparing to roll the
hoop.
“It’s not!” shouted Tad, catching
the hoop and holding it fast.
“Leave go this hoop. I can’t play
with strange boys, ‘specially boys that
tell silly whoppers.”
“You just come along with me and
I’ll show you, shouted Tad.
Rose hesitated for a moment. Then
she said, “Well, I'm sick of this old
park day after day, so I guess I just
as soon come, just to prove you're a
big liar,” with a switch of her head
that sent her bright hair over either
shoulder.
Tad stamped his foot and shouting
at the guard, “You tell my motha’
I've gone home,” started off at a run.
Rose followed, trundling the hoop.
The White House Er were a
blazine glory of tulips and reeling-
sweet with lilac and magnolia. Taa
led the way through the turnstile gate
from the Treasury grounds and paus-
ing before one of the beds flung his
arm wide.
“All this ga’den is my motha’s.”
Rose permitted herself to look mild-
ly interested but she said, “Anybody
could come into this garden and say
that.”
Tad seized her hand—she was only
a little taller than he—and said fierce-
ly, “You come with me!”
He led her to the iron steps before
the beautiful south portico.
Here Rose paused. “I'm not going
in where Abe Lincoln lives,” she de-
clared. “He murders children. My
mother says so.”
Tad gave a look commingled of an-
guish and wrath, lifted a grimy little
hand and slapped her mouth. Then
he burst into tears. “He wouldn’t kill
a wo'm!” he sobbed.
Rose dropped her hoop and then
scratched Tad’s cheeks with a pair of
practised little paws. Then she, too,
began to cry. James, the colored
houseman who was sweeping the por-
tico, hastened to separate them.
“What for did you hit this little
gal, Marse Taddie?” he inquired,
holding each sobbing child by the arm.
“She said my fatha’ killed echil-
dwen,” shrieked Tad. “You Jeave 0
of me, James. I'm going to make
be’ go up and look at Papa day.”
“Take your hand off me, nigger’,
ordered Rose, with a sudden cessation
of tears.
James freed her, saying in a dig-
nified tone, “I reckon the best thing
to do with this here Reb, Massa Tad,
is to show her to Massa Lincum.”
Rose turned pale and would have
run away had Tad not clung to her
black skirts. “You got to see him
and tell the Webs how kind he is—"
Then betwezn set teeth, as Rose con-
tinued to struggle: “Cowa’day cat,
’fwaid of a wat, fwaid of a bat,
’fwaid of a slat, *fwaid of a— All
Webs a’ ’fwaidy cats.”
“They’re not. I'll come,” said the
little girl stifling a sob.
They crossed the portico and en-
tered the state dining-room where
Rose stared at the great crystal
chandelier. They picked their way up
the private staircase and along the
family hall to folding doors which
Tad opened disclosing the public re-
ception-room, before the President’s
office. Billy Stoddard, the young sec-
retary who sat at the desk in the re-
ception-room, said warningly, “Your
father’s very busy, Tad,” but having
known Tad for over a year, he made
no further attempt to waylay the chil-
dren.
The President’s office faced south
with great windows that framed the
Potomac and the fairy hills of Vir- |
ginia. General Jackson scowled from
a gilt frame over the mantel down
upon the huge old Cabinet table. A
tall desk of many pigeonholes stood
near one of the windows. A man in
a loose gray suit, his black hair rump-
led, sat before this desk, talking to
another man who pounded his fist up-
on the Cabinet table as he shouted
replies and questions—a man with
spectacles and a dark beard which had
a peculiar streak of silver at the chin.
Dragging the shrinking Rose, Tad
pushed between the two men. “Papa
day—this gal believes you kill chil-
dwen. You tell he’, you show he'—
Oh, how can they, Papa day!” sud-
denly flinging his arms about his fath-
er and, with a great sob, kissing him.
His father put a long arm around
Tad and smiled at Rose. He had
strong white teeth and a smile of ex-
traordinary beauty. At the sight of
it, color began to return to the little
girl’s face.
“Well, Tad,” said his father, “your
little friend looks good and pretty
enough to eat, but saying that doesn’t
prove I'm a murderer, I hope.” ‘A
faint dimple stirred in Rose’s cheek.
“Whose little girl are you, my dear?”
“I'm not allowed to tell, sir,” re-
plied Rose in a voice so small that
Tad looked at her with astonishment.
“He’ name is Wose and she lives
awound with he’ kin-folks like some
of oua’ aunts and uncles do,” volun-
teered Tad.
“If she were kin to me,” said Tad’s
father, “she'd never live with but one
relative and that would be me. I've
ways hankered for a little daughter
with blue eyes and yellow hair.’
Rose edged a little nearer. “Sup-
posing the little girl was a secession-
ist 7” she asked.
as long as she’s an honest, loving lit-
tle child?” demanded Tad’s father.
She placed a delicate hand on his
knee. “My father was killed by the
Yanks at Bull Run.”
Tad’s father put his other arm
about Rose’s waist. “What a pity—"
A great roar from the man beside
the Cabinet table interrupted—his
spectacled face was purple.
“Is this a nursery, perpetually? I
tell you what, Mr. Lincoln, I'm not
coming here again. You come to the
War office when you want me. You'll
not find my children intruding there,”
He turned angrily toward the door.
Tad’s father said slowly, “Yeu tell
General McDowell to leave Freder-
icksburg and help McClellan’s drive
on Richmond, not later than the twen-
ty-sixth of this month, They’d better
not go by water as McClellan sug-
gests. It takes too long.”
“Water would be better,” grunted
Stanton, “even if slower.”
“Speed is important,” insisted Tad’s
father. “Those Rebels are like so
much quicksilver. I believe General
Banks will be able to keep that fel-
low they call Stonewall Jackson off
McClellan’s back for a while—"
“Come on, Wose, let’s go,” mur-
mured Tad. “I'll show you my day
goat, Nanny.”
Rose followed him with alacrity.
“What’s a day goat?” she asked as
they reached the hall. “Different from
a night goat?”
Tad paused in the hall to stamp
his foot at her. “A day goat, I said;
like you begin a letta’ my day Uncle
John.”
“Oh! you mean dear. Then your
father is Papa dear.” Rose giggled
and Tad’s blue eyes flashed, then
softened as the little girl added, “But
I think dear just suits your father.
If my mother’ll let me, I'm coming
here again.”
As it turned out, Rose’s mother was
entirely willing. Rose, after a very
satisfactory morning with Tad and
“day” Nanny, trundled her hoop back
through the May sunshine to the old
Capitol prison and asked the guard
at the door to let her see her mother.
The guard turned her over to the ma-
tron. The matron examined her to
see that she was not concealing some-
thing contraband in her clothing, then
led her down the corridor to a room
that overlooked the top of a budding
horse-chestnut.
A noble-looking woman, a mature
replica of Rose, sat by the window.
The room, which had been a commit-
tee room of the old Capitol, was large
and not uncomfortably furnished with
mahogany that had seen much service
in the early days. And while it was
not much of a boudoir it still could be
used. The liquor buffet made a bu-
reau and dressing-table. The Empire
sofa made a day-bed. The book-case
made a wardrobe.
Rose’s mother, who sat in a mahog-
any rocker writing on a little lap-
desk, looked up with a start of pleas-
ure as the child burst in.
“Well, Rose, I thought not to see
you until tomorrow.”
“Mother! Now, Mother, listen! Ahe
Lincoln likes children. You were mis-
taken, if you don’t mind saying so,
Mother. He was so kind to me, Moth-
er, and Tad, he’s lots of fun. He’s
just like a little pepper-pot, Mother,
with lots of sugar in it.” Rose stopped
for breath, staring pleadingly at her
mother as though altogether uncer-
tain how her news would be received.
Rose’s mother frowned a little.
“Get your breath, daughter and tell
me clearly. Is it possible thal you've
been playing with Tad Lincoln, the
Yankee President’s son?”
“Yes, ma’am, I have.” Rose's lips
quivered. “And he doesn’t look like
a Yank. He looks like a human boy,
be does, Mother.”
The frown deepened. “Where did
you meet him, daughter ?”
Rose swallowed hard. “Now, it was
away—"
“Dear me, you talk like a nigger,”
from Rose’s mother.
“It was this way. T was in front
of here and so was he, waiting for
his mother. She was visiting some-
one. And I told him he was a big
liar when he said his father was old
Abe. And he said for me to come
and see for myself and so I did, Moth-
er.”
“Did you tell the little boy or any
of them who you are?” asked her
mother,
“No! No! I'm ashamed to tell that!”
replied Rose, flushing.
Her mother moved the litle desk to
the window-ledge and drew Rose to
sit on her lap. “My dear little daugh-
ter,” she said gently, “you don’t un-
derstand yet that I'm proud to be
here. I did our glorious Confederacy
a great service and our enemies im-
prisoned me for it. But you mustn't
forget that while they scorn me in
Washington they love me in Rich-
mond. And that the Confederate
President, a greater man than the
dreadful ogre in the White House”—
Rose wiggled uncomfortably—*h a s
written me a letter thanking me for
striking a great blow for liberty. We
‘refuse to be tyrannized over by this
northern scum.”
“Tad’s not scum, Mother, really.
Even his goat’s nice.”
“Hush, ! Now tell me, did you
really see Abe Lincoln?”
Rose nodded. “I saw him, and a
man with a beard and a voice like our
old bull was there, and Mr. Lincoln
was just going to hug me when the
old bull bellowed like an hing.”
“Why did he bellow? smoothing
the child’s beautiful hair. “Try to
tell me exactly, Rose dear.”
The little girl relaxed as she saw
the expression of eager interest on
her mother’s face.
“Because he wanted to talk about
the war and Mr. Lincoln was bus
telling me I'm pretty. And the beard-
ed man said if the President wanted
to talk to him he’d have to come to
his office where there weren't any
children.”
“That must be old Stanton, the War
Secretary,” said her mother. “What
did old Abe say to that sauce?”
“He said”—the child scowled in an
effort of memory—*“that somebody
was to help take Richmond. And they
was to go on their own legs, not on
water.”
go dear? Try to re-
“Who was to
call the name.” child, her mind
eyes.
YeWhat's the name of that place
where Uncle Jim got killed licking the
Yanks, last winter?” asked Rose.
! “Fredericksburg!
name General McDowell 2”
| “Yes! And that’s all. ;
play with the goat then,” the child
nodded.
Glorious! Glorious! Now listen, little
Jefferson Davis, too?”
“Yes,” replied Rose. “He’s kind to
children just like Tad’s father is.”
Her mother winced, but let it pass.
“If you help him, you help me. If
I can send some news to him that will
help him lick the Yankees, he can
come and get me out of prison and
take us back to Richmond where we
can be happy together.”
The child sat with wide gaze on her
mother, absorbing this idea.
“You, just a little girl like you,
awful war, dear. All you have to do
is to play round Tad’s father and tell
me all you hear. I can do the rest.”
“You mean you'll let me like old
Abe?” increduously.
Rose’s mother was thoughtful, then
she said, “I can bear even that. Go
up to the White House every day,
play nicely with the little boy and
don’t let them know who I am nor
where I am.”
“Well,” sighed Rose, her dimple
showing, “for once I don’t mind doing
what I'm told.”
Thus Tad driving Nannie over the
gravel walks of the garden early the
next morning met Rose, all smiles.
“I made your father a present, last
night,” she announced, displaying in
the palm of her fine small hand a
pocket pin-ball shaped like a boot.
Tad tied day Nannie to the iron
fence rail which she immediately be-
gan to chew on in a meditative way.
“He loves pwesents. Let's £0 up
now!” exclaimed Tad. Followed by
; his two hound dogs—one that be-
longed to Willie—he again led the
way to his father’s office.
The same gray suit. The same tired
face. The same lovely smile. He
looked down at the pin-ball in his
wide palm. “This for me from a lit-
tle secessionist? ... I wish I could
woo them all as easily as J have you,
iittle Rose.” He drew her to him and
kissed her cheek. “What are you two
little rareripes going to do this morn-
ing 7”
“Take a drive with you,”
Tad promptly.
on one,”
replied
“That is, if you do go
“I may go out to inspect hospitals,” .
said his father. “You may go if you
are around. But I can’t promise to
hunt you up.”
“Wel’l play sentwy out in the hall
and watch fo’ you,” said Tad.
His father slipped the pin-ball into
his vest pocket, nodded absent-mind-
edly and turned to his desk.
The sentry play in the hall was
changed to a game invented by Rose,
hunt the Indian. It was a glorious
game requiring the noiseless pursuit
of one another on hands and knees or
flat on one’s little belly, regardless of
bagging Zouave pants or a erinoline
that arched like the top of an army
ambulance. The hound dogs didn’t
like it because they gave the hiding
places away with snorts and barks of
delight and had to be locked up. Down
the halls, under chairs and tables,
through the reception-rooms and the
President’s office, into the private sec-
retary’s sanctum—Nicolay shooed
them out of that—and into the Presi-
dent’s room where Rose hid under a
sofa until Tad pulled her out by the
ankle. A wonderful game! so absorb-
ing that most of the time Rose forgot
her mother’s orders. But not all the
time.
They did not get their ride. Tad’s
mother put a stop to that. The car-
riage had to be used to send aunty
and Miss L. B. B. somewhere. And
anyhow, she had said, looking at Rose
with a smile, this little girl’s mother
might be worried about her; perhaps
she had better not come again until
the mothers had met.
This “perhaps” was uttered in the
sitting-room, adjacent to the Presi-
dent’s office. Tad, who had stood up
well under the loss of the ride, uttered
a howl at the “perhaps” that set the
hounds to barking. Also aunty at the
such an obvious state of indignation
that Tad’s mother hurriedly said to
let it go for a few days, and the chil-
dren went on with the game.
A few days later Tad, wandering
into his father’s bedroom across from
his own to say good night, found both
his parents standing with worried ex-
pressions beside the window.
“But I thought General Banks,” his
mother was saying, “was quite able
to keep Stonewall Jackson from both-
ering anyone seriously.”
“So he was, if Stonewall Jackson
of Bank’s men were going with Me-
Dowell to work on Richmond,” replied
his father. “With that knowledge,
Jackson’s rushing up the Shenandoah
valley to attack Banks. I reckon
Banks can handle him though, espe-
cially as I've called Fremont over
from West Virginia to help him. If
nobody interferes with McDowell’s
joining McClellan, we’ll take Rich-
mond this spring and the rebellion’s
spine is broken.”
“What’ll you do with old Jeff Day-
is?” asked Tad, swarming up his
father’s back.
“Oh, Il turn him over to you and
Wose,” replied his father, kissing the
boy repeatedly. “A little Yank and a
little Web ought to work out some-
thing pretty fair for that gentleman.”
“Is Stonewall Jackson your worst
worry at the moment?” asked Tad’s
mother, eying her husband’s face with
the tender anxiety she nearly always
Fore nowadays when she looked at
im.
“Well, yes. His *swifts’ and McCle-
lan’s ‘slows’ are serious worries for
the Union, I can tell you, Mary.” He
swung Tad around to his shoulders
and started for the boy's bedroom.
Tad’s mother followed. “Tad must
take his tonic. Just how serious, Ab-
ram?”
He peered at her over Tad’s knees.
“The decision of whether we'll hava
a short or a long war will be made
WR.
‘ tio ith it i d, did not observe the in the next few days—whether well old Stonewall
Whats Doliiss got to do with 3b I of her mother’s lose a few hundred or many thousands | and end the
have a wonderful chance to end this |
same moment entered the room in ;
hadn’t found out somehow that part {1
of poor fellows.” ot :
{ Tad went to sleep thinking of his
‘last statement. After Bull Run and
(after Antietam and Fredericksburg,
Was the man’s last year, there had been a bloody | manner,
ipath up Seventh Street from the
Long Bridge made by ambulances car-
|rying the wounded to Washington
, black with it . .
‘into his pillow.
| He told Rose the next day that his
'father was going to catch Stonewall
‘Jackson and make him stop the war.
{ Rose sniffed and said that the Yanks
,couldn’t catch Stonewall Jackson any
‘easier than Tad could catch her. As
she spoke she slid under Tad’s bed
land disappeared. Tad whooped with
delight and the game was on.
Creeping along the dark private
passage which led from the sitting
'room to the President’s office, he
“caught sight of a bit of black dimity
protruding from behind the great war
map that had been hung across an
unused doorway. Rose’s crinoline was
alweys her weak point in this game.
He lay very still, wondering how to
reach her unnoticed. Mr. Stanton
again was talking to his father and
would be sure to call attention to a
small boy’s maneuvering. The men-
, tioning of Stonewall Jackson’s name
by his father brought him out of his
own affairs for a moment.
. Tad began to cry
| “A force of Rebels of about fifteen
thousand in front of Fredericksburg
broke up Saturday night and went we
know not where.
reinforce Stonewall Jackson, who is
said to have twenty thousand, then
Banks is in real peril. Is that the
worst you have 1or me, this morning,
Mr. Stanton?
! “No! No!” Stanton’s voice shook. |
“Jackson fell on Banks’ depleted
forces yesterday at Front Royal and
licked hell out of them. At present,
it's a race to see whether or not
Banks can retreat into Winchester
faster than Jackson can drive them.
And McClellan sits before Richmond
doing nothing but yell for more men!
If the Rebels take Washington, Me-
Clellan’s to blame. We've actually
placed this city in jeopardy to allay
his cowardice. Why doesn’t he fight
with what he has—double the Rebels’
force 7”
{Tad watched his father anxiously.
i The tired face suddenly was flushed.
“This never could have happened had
Fremont obeyed my explicit orders!”
he cried. “We shall have to call
McDowell off the Richmond expedi-
tion to go to Banks’ aid—” He paced
| the floor, ran his fingers through his
black hair till it stood on end, then
took his place before the war map.
“You must recall McDowell. Have
him send twenty thousand men to
Banks. You must have him send a
force here,” a iong finger on the map,
“and here and here, sufficient to draw '
Stonewall Jackson back. So disposed
they can capture him and his entire
force. It can be done if”—very em-
phatically—“no one, not even your
and my secretaries, knows : that the
movement is planned.” Thus we can
turn what threatens to be a catas-
trophe into a decisive blow at the
Rebels.”
; ulated Stanton. “I'll do the telegraph-
ing myself. You write your orders and
I'll send them with mine.”
“I’ll bring them to your office my-
self, within an hour,” said Tad’s
father. :
Stanton hurried out. A group of
men in long black coats came in.
Tad crawled unnoticed around the wall
and pinched Rose’s leg behind the
war map.
A little later Tad’s mother took
them for a long drive out to the
Soldiers’ Home where they were to
have a cottage for the summer. She
questioned Rose about herself until
the little girl in her struggle to con- Th
ceal her identity began to cry. Then
Tad’s mother petted her and sang
funny songs until they both were
hugging her in fits of laughter. She
told them that children during the
war had special need for laughter.
When they retured from this trip,
. Tad’s mother sent them to bring his
father for tea in the sitting-room.
He was, remarkable to relate, alone
in his office. He pulled both children
to his knees and inquired in a fero-
cious voice which one required to be
eaten first. Then without waiting for
a decision he began to gnaw at Rose’s
dimity elbow while she shrieked with
joy. In the midst of this, Joy Hay,
one of the private secretaries, came
rushing in.
“General Banks’ army’s in complete
rout! They're trying to cross the
Potomac before the Rebels do. It
looks as if Washington really is in
serious danger!” His eyes were blaz-
ng.
Tad’s father leaned his head for a
moment against Rose’s little shoulder
and the children heard him whisper,
“Almighty God, give me wisdom, wis-
dom!”
Rose touched his cheek gently with
her delicate fingers, then with a queer
sovnd like a puppy’s whine, slid from
his knee and went home.
Even had Tad not heard these var-
ious bits of talk, he would have known
by the anxious looks about the White
House, the next morning, that all his:
father’s and Stanton’s plans had been
a failure. It was a beautiful day of
sunshine but the house felt as if there
were a dreadful thunderstorm raging.
After breakfast Tad couldn’t stand
it another minute. He went out to
the pop-stand on Fifteenth street to
cheer himself.
Dust lay deep on everything. The
ruts in the street were simply magnif-
icent but they were almost obscured
by its yellow drifts. And down the
middle, as he could see threugh the
jolting lines of gun-carriages, army
supply wagons, and—yes, of course,
ambulances—ran a broad red path of
blood. He was staring at this, his
mouth full of taffy, which somehow
he couldn’t swallow, when Rose joined
him, He pointed the red line out to
her and spit out the candy to say:
“If Papa dag sees that he'll cwy.
I hope he won 1
today. Lots of days he don’t. L wish
If they are able to |
“You're right—quite right!” ejac- |
go out of the House:
=
Jackson could get took
wa.” =
“If the Yanks took Stonewall Jack-
i son or Robert E. Lee or Mr. Jefferson
Davis, they’d hang ’em, my mother
says.” Rose spoke in a hesitating
as if she were beginning to
doubt some of her mother’s facts
We went to wharf and up Fifteenth Street from ! about the Yankees.
“Papa day says if they took Jefl
Davis, he'd let you and me have the
th 1 d her hands. hospitals. It was fascinating and hor- | say about him.”
it Oo iarpe rible to watch the blood drip, drip. |
| daughter. Don’t you want to help Mr. The mules’ fetlocks were gummy . ally from Rose.
“Then we’d let him go,” emphatic-
| Tad gave this long thought, then
(said: “We would if he’d agwee to
stop fighting. Let’s not play in the
house, today. Let’s stay in the ga’-
den.”
Rose nodded, then shook her head
reluctantly. “I reckon we’d better stay
in the house where it’s cool.”
They wrangled over this for some
time and were shrieking hard names
at each other when Tad’s father came
upon them. He gave them an amused
glance, got a newspaper from tHe
pop-stand man, then eyed the jumble
of mule teams and marching soldiers:
in the street. Tad suddenly stopped
quarreling with Rose and seizing his:
; father’s hand tried to jerk him away.
: Rose with a quick look of intelligence:
asked him to observe her new shoes.
He turned as she bade him but looked
| with sick eyes on the small feet. Rose:
clasped his clenched hand to her little:
breast and began to sob.
| Tad stamped his foot. “I neva’ did
see such a place as Washington,” he-
{ scolded. “Somebody’s always boo-hoo-
‘ing. Cwy baby!”
“Who's crying?” demanded Rose.
| “Anyway, I can beat you running,”
and she was off 1i’ srmy courier.
| Tad caught her a, 1 in the pub--
i lic hall. They both were drawing pic--
tures at the Cabinet table when Tad’s
father came in. He did not look at:
! the children but dropped into his seat
before the pigeonholed desk and
! stared at his hand knotted on the blot--
‘ter before him.
i “What's the matter, Tad?” whis-
pered Rose.
“Old Stonewall Jackson’s got away
‘and now about a million men will
have to die. Somebody told Stone-
wall what Papa day planned and he-
got away.”
Rose, blue eyes on the still, agon-~-
ized face before the desk, wrung her
hands. “Does he feel that bad about:
it?” she murmured.
“He feels worse than that,” whis--
pered Tad.
| The little girl sat for what seemed"
to Tad an endless length of time,
: watching his father. At last, without.
{a word or a sound, she ran from the-
i room. Tad, after a moment of re--
| sentful surprise, followed her and the
jtwo hound dogs followed Tad. He:
i followed her all the way to the old
Capitol prison, wondering why she
was always hanging round that place..
Just as he entered the little park, he-
saw her speak to the guard and dis-
appear through the door.
“If she can, I can!” panted Tad as
he rushed up the steps. But the
guard, laughing, barred the door with
his gun.
i “I can if that gal can!” shouted:
Tad
{~ “That ‘gal’ went to see her mother:
and I reckon your mother’ll never be
shut up here in spite of all some folks’
: Whispering,” declared the guard:
| stoutly.
Tad’s anger changed to surprise.
“Is Wose’s motha’ in he’?”
“She is! She’s Mrs. Greenhow, the:
woman that sent the message to the
Rebels last year that gave ’em warn-
ing of the Battle of Bull Run, so’s we:
lost. They say she got old Stonewall
Jackson on the job there.”
Tad blinked and backed slowly downs
the steps to seat himself on the
bench. What would his mother say
if she discovered he was playing with:
a spy’s daughter? Still, she didn’t
seem to hate aunty or Miss L. B: B.
Perhaps she wouldn’t care what
Rose’s mother was as long as Rose
was so nice. His father wouldn’t care.
at was sure. He charged up the-
steps like a naval tug but the guard
caught his arm.
“None of that, my boy!” he said
: crossly.
“I want to play with Wose!” he-
shouted.
“Well, you can’t play with Wose..
She’s about as safe for the Presi-
dent’s son to play with as a can of"
powder.” The guard’s voice was grim.
But Tad was inured to grim voices.
“She plays with me evewy day at.
my house and with my fatha’ and
motha’ too. They like he’ and so do
L” He shrilled this indignantly. “We:
didn’t know who he’ old motha’ was..
But anyhow, my motho’ and fatha’
don’t mind spies. We have lots of
’em awound.”
“Whereabouts at your house does
she play?” asked the guard in a.
strange voice.
“Wight up in Papa day’s office..
So!” triumphantly.
“Humph! Good gosh! Guess I've:
been making a slip!” ejaculated the-
soldier. “You run along home, Tad..
You can’t come in here if you wait.
a week.”
Tad swung his foot and studied the
guard's face. Then he called to the:
hound dogs and snailed home for a:
drive with day Nanny.
Rose, rushing into her mother’s.
room, after her inspection by. the ma=-
tron, saw Tad’s little retreating fig~
ure from the window.
Mrs. Greenhow, who was tatting-
this: time, looked up with a. smile..
“Well, little daughter!”
Rose ran to her mother’s knee, her
throat. working. “Mother, Ii can’t do
it any more. It makes me: feel too:
bad.”
“Him? Whom?” asked her mother
soberly.
“Tad’s: father. His face—Oh;. Moth--
er, his face, his face!”
Mrs. Greenhow laid aside her tat-
ting and tock both child’s fluttering
hands in hers. “Tell me quietly,
dear.”
Rose tried to tell her; tried to put
into. words the look in the eyes of
Tad’s father and to a degree succeed-
ed, for Mrs. Greenhow patted the lit-
tle hands tenderly and her face was
not triumphant but infinitely sad as
she said:
“Yes! Yes! He must suffer! But he:
(Continued: on page 7, Col: 6)