eyed men come in again and we'll talk it over. Your heart's in the right place, anyhow."

He glanced doubtfully at the little skillet-shaped head and reached over his shoulder for the next one. It was a bullet proof shirt for soldiers-a coat of mail which weighed fifty pounds.

"How long do you think a man could march with that thing on and the thermometer at ninety-eight in the shade?"

He handed it back with a shake of his head and grasped the next one-a model water-tight canoe to fit the foot like a snow shoe.

"What's the idea?" he asked.

"Shoe the army with my canoes, sir, and they can all walk on water- 99

"And yet they say the age of miracles has passed! Take it over to old Neptune's office. He's a sad man at times and I like him. This ought to cheer him."

The next one was a man of unusually interesting face. A typical Yankee farmer with whiskers spilling over his collar from his neck and bristling up against his clean shaven chin. He handed the President a model of a new musket. He examined it with care and fixed the man with his gaze:

"Well, sir?"

"Hit's the rekyle, sir," he explained softly. "Hit's the way she's hung on the stock.”

"Oh- 99

"Ye see, sir," he went on earnestly, "a gun ought not to rekyle, and ef hit rekyles at all, hit ought to rekyle a leetle forred"

"Right you are!" the President roared with laughter. "Your logic's sound whether your gun kicks or

not. I say so, too. A gun ought not to rekyle at all, and if it does rekyle, by jinks, it ought to rekyle and hit the other fellow, not us!"

The tall figure dropped into the chair by his desk and laughed again.

"Come in again, Brother 'Rekyle' and we'll talk it over when I've got more time."

The stocky, heavy set figure of the Secretary of War suddenly pushed through the crowd and up to the desk. Stanton's manner had always been rude to the point of brusqueness and insult. The tremendous power he was now wielding in the most important Department of the Government had not softened his temper or improved his manners. The President had learned to appreciate his matchless industry and sterling honesty and overlooked his faults as an indulgent father those of a passionate and willful child.

Stanton's eyes were flashing through his gold rimmed glasses the wrath he found difficult to express. The President looked up with a friendly smile: "Well, Mars, what's the trouble now?"

Stanton shook his leonine locks and beard in fury at the use of the facetious word. He loathed levity of any kind and the one kind he could not endure was the quip that came his way.

He regarded himself seriously every day, every hour, every minute in every hour. He was the incarnate soul of Mars on earth. He knew and felt it. He raged at the President's use of the term because he had a sneaking idea that he was being laughed at-and that by a man who was his inferior and yet to whom he was rendering indispensable service.

An angry retort rose to his lips, but he suppressed

the impulse. It was a waste of breath. The President was a fool-he would only laugh again as he had done before. And so he plunged straight to the purpose of his call:

"Before you get to your usual batch of passes and pandons this morning I want to protest again, Mr. President, against your persistent interference with the discipline of the army and the affairs of my Department. Your pardons are hamstringing the whole service, sir. It must stop if you expect your generals to control their men!"

"Is that all, Mars?" the even voice asked.

"It is, sir!"

"Thanks for the spirit that prompts your rage. know you're right about most of these things. I'll do my best to help and not hinder you

99

"There's a woman coming here this morning to present a petition over my head.”

"I have refused it and I demand that you support, not make a fool of me."

He turned without waiting for an answer and strode from the room.

The President whispered to Nicolay:

"We may have to put a few bricks in Stanton's pocket yet, John!"

He glanced toward the waiting crowd and whispered again:

"Any news to-day from the front before I go on?" Nicolay drew a telegram from his file:

"Only this dispatch, sir, announcing the capture of fifty mules and two brigadier generals by Stuart's cavalry"

"Fifty mules?”

"And two brigadier generals."

"Fifty mules--and they're worth two hundred dollars a piece. Tell 'em to send a regiment after those mules. Jeffy D. can have the generals."

A slender little dark-haired girl about fifteen years old, with big wistful blue eyes, had taken advantage of the pause to slip close. When the President lifted his head she caught his eyes. He rose immediately

and drew her to his side.

"You're all alone, little girl?" "Yes, sir," she faltered.

"And what can I do for you?"

"If you please, I want to pass through the lines to Virginia-my brother's there he was shot in the last battle. I want to see him."

"Of course you do," the kindly voice agreed, "and you shall."

He wrote the pass and handed it to her.

She murmured her thanks and he placed his big hand on her dark head and asked casually:

"Of course you're loyal?"

The young lips quivered, she hesitated, looked up into his face through dimmed eyes, and the slender body suddenly stiffened, as she slowly said:

"Yes-to the heart's core to Virginia!"

The trembling fingers handed the pass back and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

The tall man dared not look down again. Something about this slim wistful girl brought back over the years the memory of the young mother who had come from the hills of old Virginia.

He was still for a moment, stooped, and took her

hand in his. His voice was low and tender and full of feeling:

"I know what it cost you to say that, child. You're a brave, glorious little girl, if you are a rebel. I love you for this glimpse you've given me of a great spirit. I'm sure I can trust you. If I let you go, will you promise me faithfully that no word shall pass your lips of what you've seen inside our lines?"

"I promise!" she cried, smiling through her tears. He handed her back the pass and slowly said: "May God bless you-and speed the day when your people and mine shall be no longer enemies."

He turned again to his desk, and beside it stood a quiet woman dressed in black.

He bowed to her with easy grace:

"And how can I serve you, Madam?"

She smiled hopefully:

"You have children, Mr. President?"

A look of sorrow overspread the dark face. "Yes," he said reverently, "I have two boys now. I had three, but God has just taken one of them."

"I had two," the mother responded. "Both of them went into the army to fight for their country and left me alone. One has been killed in battle. I tried to be brave about it. I said over and over again, 'the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away, blessed is the name of the Lord! But I had to give up. I'm all alone in my little place in the mountains of Pennsylvania and I can't endure it. I know they say I have no right to ask, but I want my last boy to come home. All night I lie there alone and cry. Can't you let me have my boy back? He's all I've got on earthothers have more. I have only this one.

I'm just a