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diff --git a/old/65809-0.txt b/old/65809-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 61f21c1..0000000 --- a/old/65809-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2349 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Christmas at Sagamore Hill with Theodore -Roosevelt, by Helen Topping Miller - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Christmas at Sagamore Hill with Theodore Roosevelt - -Author: Helen Topping Miller - -Release Date: July 9, 2021 [eBook #65809] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, Stephen Hutcheson, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital - Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHRISTMAS AT SAGAMORE HILL WITH -THEODORE ROOSEVELT *** - - - - - Christmas at - Sagamore Hill - - - WITH THEODORE ROOSEVELT - - by - Helen Topping Miller - - - LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. - NEW YORK · LONDON · TORONTO - 1960 - - LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO., INC. - 119 WEST 40TH STREET, NEW YORK 18 - - LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO., Ltd. - 6 & 7 CLIFFORD STREET, LONDON W 1 - - LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. - 20 CRANFIELD ROAD, TORONTO 16 - - CHRISTMAS AT SAGAMORE HILL - - COPYRIGHT © 1960 - BY - J. A. HILL AND DONALD G. TOPPING -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THE RIGHT TO REPRODUCE THIS BOOK, OR ANY - PORTION THEREOF, IN ANY FORM - - PUBLISHED SIMULTANEOUSLY IN THE DOMINION OF CANADA BY - LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO., TORONTO - - FIRST EDITION - - LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER 60-53227 - - Printed in the United States of America - - - - - Christmas at Sagamore Hill - - - [Illustration: Decorative glyph] - -The night was bitterly cold and a raw wind was blowing off the Bay, -sending dry leaves scudding and whipping the naked boughs of the trees, -when Theodore Roosevelt alighted from his carriage at Sagamore Hill. He -got out backward very cautiously, easing his muscular bulk down lightly -on his feet although he was holding both arms straight out before him. -The burden they bore was precarious. - -In his arms he balanced a great globe in which a dozen goldfish were -swimming dizzily. Already a thin film of ice had formed on top of the -water and fragments of it followed the fish about in their hysterical -dashings back and forth. - -He walked to the steps, setting his feet down firmly as not long since -he had tramped the rough vine- and fern-tangled hills in Cuba. Only now, -he thought gratefully, nobody was shooting at him. - -The door of the big rambling house opened as he mounted the steps and -warm light greeted him. So did a chorus of assorted shrieks. - -“Father’s home!” - -Four children came rushing out into the night, staid Alice trying to -remember the dignity expected of a young lady of fourteen, Theodore, -frail and owlish, peering through his spectacles, Kermit, slender and -fair with legs that seemed too slim to support his wiry body, and after -them four-year-old Archie, stumbling and falling flat on the cold floor. - -“Pick him up!” directed Roosevelt. “You see I have my hands full. And -hold the door and let me in before I drop this slippery thing.” - -“What in the world is it, Father?” asked Alice, hurrying to prop the -door wide for him. - -“Can’t you see?” demanded Kermit. “It’s fishes.” He scuttled behind his -father. - -“Move all those things,” Roosevelt ordered, pointing to the hall table. -“Let me set this down.” - -Alice hastily removed the card tray and candlesticks from the table, -setting them carefully on the floor. The fish continued their giddy -pirouette and small Archie pressed his button of a nose against the cold -glass. - -“They dancing,” he exclaimed delightedly. “Father, fishes dancing!” - -“Silly! Fishes can’t dance,” declared Kermit. “They’ve got no feet. Have -they got feet, Father?” - -“No, they haven’t any feet. They’re just excited,” said his father, -hanging up his hat and overcoat. - -There was a scurry of feet on the stairs and seven-year-old Ethel came -flying down followed at a quieter pace by her mother. - -“We were putting the baby to bed. Oh, goldfish! But Theodore—” - -“They’re ours,” Kermit said. “I counted and there are twelve of them. -Which is the mother fish, Father, the one who lays the eggs?” - -“They aren’t ours,” answered his father. “I got them for the school for -you to give the other children as a goodby gift. This house is freezing, -Edie, can’t that man do something about the fires?” - -“There’s one burning wherever there’s a fireplace, Theodore, and they’ve -been stoking both furnaces continually all day. This house is just hard -to heat on a windy day.” - -“My room is like an icehouse,” said Alice. “My fingers got practically -stiff while I was dressing.” - -“We’ll hope that the house in Albany is easier to heat,” said Mrs. -Roosevelt. - -“I don’t want to move to Albany,” Ethel whimpered. “I don’t want to -leave my puppies and my pony.” - -“Silly!” scorned young Ted, who had stood a little aloof from all the -excitement over the goldfish, as he usually did from things he -considered childish. “You should be proud to go to Albany, Father’s -going to be governor of New York.” - -“Is that like being president?” asked Ethel. - -“Slightly less than being president,” Ted conceded, “but not much less.” - -“Theodore, we’re due at the schoolhouse right now,” his wife reminded -him. “Children, get your hats and coats and everyone must put on -overshoes. We don’t want any frosted fingers or toes for Christmas. -Theodore, I don’t really know if Ted should go or not. His chest is -still frail from that grippe.” - -“Bundle up well, Ted,” ordered his father. “Cold weather never hurt -anybody.” - -“It hurts me.” Alice shivered. “I get goose bumps and I hate them and -the end of my nose turns red.” - -“Get ready at once, Alice, and you too, Ted, if you’re going,” directed -their father. - -“Mother had me excused from making my speech,” said Ted. “I still think -I was well enough to have made it.” - -“I can say mine,” Kermit shouted, halfway up the stairs, “‘Higgledy -piggledy went to school—’” - -“You’ll be scared when the time comes,” Ted jeered. “I bet you forget -half of it.” - -In the big carriages packed with robes and hot bricks they rode the -short distance to the Cove Creek school. The schoolhouse bell, creaking -and jangling merrily, was ringing loudly as they came near; they could -hear the wheels that turned it squeak and the ropes groan and slap -against the sides of the belfry. - -“Someday,” announced young Ted as he climbed out of the carriage, “that -old thing’s going to come crashing down.” - -“Then the children won’t have to go to school,” said Ethel. - -Theodore Roosevelt, governor-elect of the State of New York, marched -into the little schoolhouse carrying the bowl of goldfish in his arms -and followed in a train by his family, to be greeted with loud clapping -by the assembled parents. With a bow he presented the fishbowl to the -teacher, sweeping off his gray campaign hat as he marched back to a rear -seat. Father shouldn’t sit in the back, thought Alice, who was beginning -to feel more like a princess every day and felt cheated because they -were not more prominently seated. Father ought to be dressed up, too, -wearing his silk hat and his beautiful white vest and striped trousers, -not that old gray suit and knickers as though he were merely anybody -instead of the governor. - -One by one the children gestured or stammered through their “pieces,” -most of which had a very military quality. A young archfoe of Ted’s -finished with a tribute to the governor-elect, “We’ll send you to the -White House for the gallant deeds you’ve done,” which was tumultuously -applauded by all the children and parents. - -Then the governor-elect, who had hoped to escape by silently sitting in -the rear, was called upon to speak. As he strode up to the stage, he was -aware of a low whisper from his daughter, “Father, don’t talk long! -Think of the poor children.” - -Roosevelt did not speak of Christmas or the Holy Birth, which had been -said a dozen times already. In simple language, talking directly to the -young fry, he outlined his philosophy of life, counseled them to decide -that they were going to have a good time as long as they lived, and that -without being quarrelsome they should stand up for their rights, be -honorable and fair to all people. The applause when he had finished -shook the building but as he sat down he heard a loud mutter from his -oldest son, “Father, we thought you’d never stop talking.” - -Now came the most exciting moment. From the gay tree, decorated with -wreaths of colored paper, with tinsel and strings of popcorn, the -presents were distributed. Roosevelt was asked to step forward and as -the gifts were handed to him by the teacher he called out each child’s -name. - -There were dolls and skates and sleds and sleighs, picture books and toy -guns and swords, each one carefully selected by Edith over a period of -weeks and each the gift of Theodore Roosevelt. As he handed down the -presents into eager little hands he was no longer the governor-elect and -a military hero, he was merely Neighbor Roosevelt giving a happy holiday -to a group of small friends of his own children. - -Edith had chosen all the gifts and Theodore had paid for them with the -last army paycheck he had received for serving in Cuba. And no child -hugging his present beamed more brightly than did Theodore Roosevelt as -he patted every small head and spoke a pleasant word to the recipient. - -His own children were not forgotten and Edith had wisely seen that the -gifts were suitable even though there would be a bounteous Christmas for -the five young Roosevelts later. If she had a few moments of trepidation -as to how all this accumulation of holiday largess would be transported -to Albany before the month was ended, she kept her anxiety to herself. -Certainly Kermit could not be separated from the little mechanical ship -he clutched so tightly in his arms. - -They drove back to Sagamore Hill in the bitter cold of the early winter -dark. The light snow that had fallen, just enough to allow Theodore -Roosevelt to experiment with an old pair of skis, was now frozen hard -and glittered in the chilly light from the western sky. Out toward the -horizon the Bay lay flat and gray and restless, reflecting now and then -a glint of dying winter light. - -The children were quiet, huddling under the blankets, all but Ted who -said wistfully, “I should have liked those skates you gave to Pete -Murray, Father.” - -“You already have skates,” said his father. “Don’t be greedy.” - -“But those skates were better,” insisted Ted. “They have those sharpened -edges and two straps.” - -“I still say you are being greedy, Ted. It’s an ugly trait. Get rid of -it. Pete Murray is not as fortunate as you. He never gets many -presents.” - -“Anyway,” Kermit chimed in, “maybe in Albany there won’t be any ice.” - -“I don’t want to go to Albany,” piped up little Archie. “I like here.” - -“So do we,” said Ted, “but Father has to be governor of New York because -he beat the Spaniards in the war.” - -“Not alone, Ted,” corrected his father. “There were quite a few stout -fellows helping me. Thousands of them, in fact, from generals and -admirals down to plain soldiers and sailors.” - -“But the Rough Riders were the bravest,” his son persisted. - -“We’ll hope history will affirm that rash assertion.” His father was -dry. “However, I thank you for your commendation. All right, here we -are. Pile out, you fellows. Mother and the girls are just behind us in -the other carriage. Everybody carry his own loot. Supper will be ready, -we’ll hope, though I doubt if Archie can stay awake long enough to eat -it.” - -The fires would be warm and pleasant after the chill outside, but later -icy drafts would creep out of the corners making the family shiver. It -was fortunate the young Roosevelts were a hardy breed, all but Ted who -was still inclined to be frail and subject to sudden illnesses. Theodore -Roosevelt remembered his own sickly childhood and hoped for the best for -his sons. Certainly he himself was tough enough now. There had been -times in his youth when he had been forced to go to the high, dry -western country to recover his health and strength. He still went back -occasionally in summer to look after his cattle interests there into -which he had sunk so much of his inheritance from his father. - -The ranch had been a losing venture for several years and there had been -times when he and Edith had worried about being able to provide for -their large, expensive family, but now the future seemed secure for at -least a few years and Theodore Roosevelt had never been one to let -anxiety harass him for long. - -He paused to look up at Sagamore Hill on his way back from the carriage -house. The bulky building with its wings and high roof line stood out -clearly against the sky of early night. The house had somehow the wrong -colors, as Alice was apt to observe a trifle acidly, remarking that the -mustard yellow of the shingles on the gables certainly did not harmonize -with the rose-pink brick. - -Edith, his wise, firm, gentle wife, was waiting at the door. - -“Hurry off with your wraps,” she said. “Supper is ready and we have good -hot soup.” - -“What, no wassail bowl?” bantered Theodore. “No boar’s head with a -wreath of holly and an apple in his mouth? This is Christmas Eve, -remember. Just plain old soup?” - -“Don’t make the children dissatisfied with their food, Theodore,” Edith -chided. “Ted, let me feel your cheeks. They look very flushed to me.” - -“Frosty outside,” her husband reminded her. - -“I don’t want any more pills or brown stuff out of a bottle,” whined -Ted, “and I don’t specially care for soup.” - -“Listen, son,” said his father. “You are always talking about being a -soldier and a soldier learns first of all to eat what is put before him. -I’m sure Mother has very excellent soup and it will be warming and -welcome on this chilly night. I put wrong ideas in their heads,” he -admitted, as they shepherded the children into the dining room. “A very -foolish thing to do.” - -“Now you set an example of hungrily eating your soup,” said Edith. “At -least there is a pudding later.” - -“Does it have burning brandy on it?” inquired Kermit who had been -devouring pictures of the old-fashioned English Christmas lately. - -“No burning brandy, just hard sauce, but I suspect the cook put a drop -or two of wine in it.” - -“Well,” approved Alice, “that will be a little exciting.” - -“You need to go to school, young lady,” commented her father. - -“A stuffy old place like that?” She sighed. “And Bamie’s house is just -as bad. Now I know how it will be: ‘Remember your father is governor. Do -him credit.’ Sometimes I wish you were a plain man, Father, like other -girls’ fathers.” - -“You wish no such thing! You bask in all the publicity! Anyway I am a -plain man. You don’t see me wearing a top hat, do you? Or putting on -airs?” - -“Sometimes,” she admitted, “I wish you would dress up a little more and -wear all your medals.” - -“Let’s all be just nice plain people,” suggested her stepmother. - -Albany, Edith decided, was not going to be an easy place to hold the -children to democratic standards. The governor’s children might be -expected not to turn somersaults on the lawn of the executive mansion, -or sail kites off the roof. Here at Sagamore Hill the younger ones had -had the freedom of the place, nothing was closed to them. Even in -Roosevelt’s workshop under the roof, the door was always open and she -had seen her husband often writing or dictating an important speech with -Archie or Kermit crawling about his feet or pushing a toy train and -shouting “choo choo choo!” - -Important visitors were often left cooling their heels in the parlor -while Roosevelt was out having a rough and tumble in the hay with the -children or down at the dock teaching one of them how to dive. When he -was with his children he was as young as they were, and though this made -him more lovable it could be exasperating, too, and at times -embarrassing. Like the time a maid had misinterpreted the mission of two -delegations of visitors, leaving a group of important men to cool their -heels on the front porch while she waited on some startled and -bewildered clergy in the parlor. - -But if there were times when Edith Roosevelt yearned for a little -privacy, she kept the thought to herself. To be ignored and eventually -forgotten would be a living death to a man like Theodore Roosevelt, with -a nature so ebullient and outgiving. - -He had to express himself either vocally or by action just as he had had -to risk his life and health fighting with his Rough Riders in Cuba. -There had been a job to be done, a wrong to be righted, and his fierce -sense of justice and obligation would not let him ignore it. Of course -the excitement had appealed to him, too, just as the thrill of riding -and roping cattle on the Dakota ranch had done, the place where already -he had sunk too much of the money left him by his father. The only -recreation or relaxation that he knew was in doing something vigorous -and different. There was, Edith sighed to herself, nothing restful about -him. - -“Now,” she put in a maternal admonition, “there will be no pillow fights -tonight. Everyone must go quietly to sleep, there will be enough -excitement in the morning.” - -“At least,” said her husband, “may I be allowed to help them hang up -their stockings?” - -“If you’ll promise to come down immediately and not mar the mantelpiece. -And Ted must have some ointment on his chest and a dose of cough -medicine. I’ll come up with you, Ted, and see that you are well rubbed. -You don’t want to spend Christmas in bed.” - -“Mother, do I have to? I hate that slimy stuff.” - -“You have to and you have to hold still and not squirm and yell,” -insisted his mother. “Come along now, all of you. I want you all in bed -and warmly covered before the fires go out.” - -“You mean Father isn’t going to tell us even one story?” wailed Kermit, -stumbling up the stairs. - -“No stories tonight, Kermit.” His father gave him a gentle slap on the -rear as he followed him. “Orders from the queen. We must all rest -tonight for tomorrow is a big day.” - -The doorbell pealed then and over the upper railing they saw the maid -admitting some visitors. - -“Three gentlemen to see Colonel Roosevelt,” she announced, hurrying -halfway up the flight. “They’re in the parlor.” - -“Let them wait,” said Roosevelt impatiently. “Some delegation of office -seekers, no doubt, or somebody wanting a favor of the governor.” - -“But you aren’t the governor yet,” Ethel argued. “You’re only Father.” - -“My favorite appointment and nothing would please me more than to work -full time at it. Get along, boys, I can’t keep those people waiting too -long.” - -“You do,” reminded Ted. “That time when we were all playing circus in -the barn you kept some men waiting a long time while you were trying to -teach Kermit’s pony to kneel.” - -“Then Father was not governor of New York,” his mother told him. “Now he -has a responsibility to the people of this state.” - -“Thank you, my dear,” said her husband. “Kiss me good night, all you -youngsters. I’d better see what those people want. After all, this is -Christmas Eve and a cold night. Likely they want to get home to their -families.” - -The three men waiting below had a mission they considered important and -praiseworthy. They wanted Colonel Roosevelt when he took office as -governor to do something about getting better roads for the county. - -“They’re a bog in winter and a fog of dust in summer. They’re a hardship -to the folks who live here and they discourage summer people. Every time -some people pay their taxes they harangue us about the bad roads.” - -“But, gentlemen,” Roosevelt protested, “the county roads are the -county’s affair, except for a few miles of state and post roads. Your -county officials are the people for you to see about this matter.” - -“The county officials, Colonel, are us three and there’s nobody for us -to appeal to. We’re the ones who are getting all the knocks and got no -answer unless we raise taxes, and Lord, what a howl there would be about -that! Trouble is, people want a lot of things till it comes time to pay -for them and then they want somebody else to take on the load.” - -“That’s the trouble with the whole country,” said Roosevelt. “In Albany -there are probably people already waiting, wanting something but wanting -no part of the financial responsibility of paying for it. The President -and Congress are bombarded constantly with requests to give benefits to -certain areas and groups of people but all those things cost money and -the money has to come from the people, the ordinary people like you and -me, gentlemen.” - -How many times, he wondered, as the delegation left reluctantly, -grumbling among themselves, would he hear the same arguments in the next -two years? All at once, standing in his own doorway looking out at the -dark night sky which was already beginning to lower and spit a few more -flakes of snow, he felt a dread of the new task that till this moment -had stimulated and exhilarated him. - -The peace and quiet of Sagamore Hill suddenly was doubly dear. The -fields and hills over which he had roamed with his children, the fringe -of wood where he had chopped down trees, exulting in every blow of the -ax, at seeing white chips fly wide. Here, he was thinking, he could have -lived, writing his books, watching over the growth and education of his -children, getting fatter with the years perhaps, less able to swim and -dive and wield an ax, or flash down a snowy slope on new skis. - -He knew, however, a life like that was not for him. Action was essential -to him, positive and vigorous, and he could no more keep out of public -affairs than he could resign himself to sitting by a fireside all the -rest of his days. He could never sit still there. He was always jumping -up to discipline the blazing logs with firm jabs of the poker, or hurl -on more wood with a heave and a grunt. - -He went to the fire now and found Edith sitting there with her usual -piece of sewing in her lap. - -“It seems to be getting colder,” she remarked. “Those upstairs rooms are -really chilly. I do hope the governor’s house has an adequate heating -system; I dread the colds we get in winter and Ted’s chest is not really -strong.” - -“There we’ll have steam no doubt, and boilers to burn coal. I’ve never -been inside the place but once and that was quite long ago. It’s a -gloomy old pile but we have to live in it.” - -“It can’t be any harder to heat than this house,” said Edith, trying not -to let any of the odd feeling creep into her voice, the slight -reservation she had never voiced even to herself but that had always -been present deep in her mind—her own feeling about Sagamore Hill. - -After all, it had been built for another women, the girl whom her -husband had deeply loved, Alice Lee. And it had been originally named -Leeholm. That Alice Lee had died before the first stone of the -foundation had been laid could not but remind Theodore now and then of -what he had lost, especially when he looked at Alice Lee’s daughter, -brisk, vigorous little Alice born with an assertive nature, blunt and -forthright, like his own. - -All her married life Edith Carow Roosevelt had kept a firm hand on her -emotions, not letting any useless jealousy creep in to raise a cloud -between her and her husband. He was hers and had been for many years and -their children were proof of the constancy of his love. He adored them -all, though now and then his was the firm hand that supplied the -occasionally needed discipline and punishment. The children’s worship of -their father was only too evident in the way they followed him about, -having scant enthusiasm for any game in which he did not join. - -They sat quietly together for an hour, then Theodore asked, “Do you -think it’s safe to get the Christmas presents out now? It’s getting -late.” - -“Let’s wait a little longer. Ted never goes to sleep promptly, and Ethel -and Kermit were both very excited when Mame put them to bed.” - -“Good old Mame! I bought her a locket. Probably a frivolous gift for -Mame, but everyone needs something foolish and gay to liven up life now -and then.” - -“She has been faithful for years. I couldn’t have raised the children -without Mame. She doesn’t get along too well with the other servants at -times, but they’re used to her blunt way now and ignore her difficult -days,” Edith said. - -“We all have difficult days,” he remarked. “I know there have been -times, when I was harassed and frustrated by outside events, that I have -been difficult to live with.” - -“You have learned to control your emotions very well lately,” she said, -“though sometimes I have thought you a bit too impulsive.” - -“You mean going off at half cock, lacking in sober judgment. I know -that. No one knows it better than I. All my life I’ve battled against -going at things headlong, the way I fought in Cuba, and struggled to put -down graft and corruption when I was with the New York Police -Commission.” - -“I still hate thinking of that winter when times were so hard and we -were so short of money. I still can’t bear to see a slice of bread -wasted. Theodore, listen!” She rose suddenly. “It’s a wagon coming up -the drive.” - -They both hurried to the front door. A wagon drawn by two horses was -slowly coming up the hill, lanterns hung upon it and sleigh bells -jingling merrily from about the necks of the horses. It was filled with -young people who were singing at the tops of their voices. - - _God rest ye merry, gentlemen! let nothing you dismay, - For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on Christmas day._ - -“How sweet!” exclaimed Edith. “We ought to invite them in.” - -The noise would rouse the children, she knew unhappily, as the -youngsters went on into another carol. Theodore walked out to the wagon -to deliver the invitation, while Edith racked her brain to think what -she had in the house to offer a crowd of young fry, who would certainly -have huge appetites. There might be cookies in the pantry or apples. The -cook always kept a supply of cookies on hand as Theodore often put a few -in his pockets when he went on his almost daily rambles over the -countryside. - -It was a relief to her when he returned to the porch saying that the -carolers would not alight, as they had many other places to go and it -was getting late. After a dozen more songs, coming sweetly clear on the -frosty air, the singers launched into a popular song that had been sung -when crowds greeted the hero of San Juan Hill. - - _We’ll send you to the White House for the gallant deeds you’ve done._ - -Edith knew a sudden trepidation as the wagon jolted away, the voices -still floating back on the still, cold air. She had heard whispers of -the White House before from the politicians and public men who were -constantly thronging the house, but never a word from Theodore. If he -had any ambitions beyond the governorship he was keeping them from her -and that was unlike her husband who was often too vocal and positive in -his plans and opinions. Certainly he had always confided in his wife, -even if at times she had secretly thought he was not too wise to be so -frank about important and confidential matters. - -What he may have been thinking she had no way of knowing, though as a -rule his line of thought was seldom concealed from her. The presidency -would be an honor of course, and if Theodore had a dream of sometime -occupying that distinguished position she could say nothing to -discourage or frustrate such an ambition, but her quiet soul shrank a -little from being thrust into the responsibilities of such a life and -always she thought of her children. The publicity and adulation to which -they would be exposed in Albany would be bad enough. - -Like their father they were all fiercely democratic—at least the boys -were—but every honor that had come to their father had excited them, -Alice especially. Alice loved importance and took every plaudit and -cheer as partially her own. - -Edith argued determinedly with herself that she was worrying about -nothing, that no doubt after his term as governor was ended, Theodore -would be content to return to Sagamore Hill to write and live the life -of a country squire. But all the while she was tormented by her hidden -awareness that quiet and peace were never made for Theodore Roosevelt. - -They went back into the house and discovered three small figures -crouched above, peering through the railings of the stairs. - -“We couldn’t sleep, the singing kept us awake,” said Alice when Theodore -began to scold. - -“Scurry back to bed, all of you,” he ordered. “You’ll catch your death -of cold.” - -“Just some young people singing Christmas carols,” explained their -mother. “When you are older perhaps you can go out caroling too on -Christmas Eve. Kermit, come here, your night clothes aren’t properly -buttoned.” - -“Mame did it,” declared Kermit. - -“He kept wriggling and diving under the bed,” Ted reported. “Mame -couldn’t even hold him.” - -“She tickles,” Kermit defended. “Will you tell us a story about the Wild -West, Father?” - -“Certainly not!” Edith was firm, detecting a faint sign of weakening on -her husband’s face. “It’s far too late. Jump into bed quickly. Did Mame -give you your tonic, Ted?” - -“Yes.” He made a wry face. “I hate that gooey stuff.” - -“You hate being sick, too, and the idea of not growing up as strong as -the other boys,” their father reminded him. - -“I hated that stuff I had to take to make my bones strong,” declared -Kermit. - -“You hated having to wear braces on your legs, too.” His father followed -the boys into the nursery, gave each a friendly smack and tumbled them -into bed. “But the braces made your legs strong enough so you can swim -like the rest of us.” - -“I still hate getting water in my ears,” stated Ted, pulling the covers -up to his chin. “Will there be warmer bedrooms in that palace up in -Albany, Father?” - -“We’ll hope so—and it isn’t a palace. It’s officially called a mansion.” - -“In storybooks governors always live in palaces. Does the president live -in a palace in Washington?” - -“No, just a big white house. You’ve seen it. You should remember.” - -“I’ve seen so many places,” sighed Ted, “but I like this house best.” - -“We all do. We’ll come back to it every summer,” promised Roosevelt. - -The house was quiet at last but Edith Roosevelt, when they had completed -the task of filling all the dangling stockings, lay awake a long time, -her thoughts trying to search the future, what lay ahead for all those -children. More of war and danger, more heart-racking anxiety for their -mother? Perhaps it was best not to know, otherwise life would be one -long torment of apprehension. - -Morning showed a thin cover of snow on the ground, but before day came -to reveal it plainly, there was pandemonium in the parents’ quiet -bedroom as the children came rushing in lugging their stockings. Only -small toys bulged in the stockings, but Alice proudly displayed a little -gold bracelet and Archie, round-faced and beaming, bounced up and down -on his father’s stomach excitedly cranking a small tin toy that made -musical sounds as the handle turned. - -“Get up, Father,” begged Ethel. “Get up and light the Christmas tree!” - -“That room will be cold,” objected their mother. “Here, crawl under this -blanket, all of you. Theodore, do poke up the fire.” - -There were some embers left in the fireplace and he strode over, -barefoot, in his night garb and jabbed and stirred at them, vigorously, -piling on the wood till a roaring blaze was kindled. He liked fires to -roar, horses to gallop, he had to put gusto into everything he did, his -wife lay thinking. - -“We’ll have breakfast first,” she said firmly. “No one will be -downstairs this early, so all of you take your stockings and crawl back -into your beds till Mame comes in. Then after breakfast we’ll light the -Christmas trees in the gun room.” - -“It’s cold in there too,” complained Ted, “cold as anything.” - -“It’s cold everywhere. This is a winter’s day,” said Theodore. “Scamper -now! No one is to stir out of bed again till Mame comes in.” - -“She’s an awful sleepyhead,” complained Ethel. “She won’t stir for hours -and hours.” - -The gun room was not yet warm when at nine o’clock Theodore lighted the -candles on the two Christmas trees, Mame standing by worriedly with a -bucket of water and a dipper to head off any flickering blaze. She had -wrapped each child in a heavy coat, but even that did not keep small -fingers from cramping with cold as they fumbled with strings and -wrappings, squealing happily over their treasures. - -Ted gloated over a new sled while his mother wondered how it would be -transported to Albany, for assuredly he would refuse to leave it behind. -Ethel hugged a new doll and put it to bed repeatedly in its cradle her -Aunt Bamie had sent, adjuring it to lie still now and Father would come -and tell a story, maybe about cowboys. - -At ten o’clock Roosevelt impulsively decided to go to church, and Alice -and Ethel insisted on going with him. Wrapped in heavy coats they set -out in the carriage, the girls with their chins buried in fur, their -small noses pink with frost. - -At the little Episcopal church Roosevelt got down and shook the door. It -was locked fast. Presently a woman stuck her head out of the house next -door. - -“No services today,” she said. “The minister is sick with the grippe.” -She came closer. “It’s Mister Roosevelt, isn’t it? Governor now, ain’t -you? My man voted for you. He was at San Juan Hill.” - -Instantly Theodore had his notebook out. “What was his name? I’ll -remember him. I remember all my Rough Riders, they were a gallant lot of -fellows.” - -She told him the name. “He got wounded in a skirmish. But he got over -it. Now he travels around selling housewares for some folks in Jersey -City. He’s away down in Pennsylvania today. It was too far to come home -for Christmas but it makes it a dreary time when the man’s away, the -young ones miss him.” - -As the carriage started up the hill Ethel announced, “I never got to put -my five cents in the collection, Father.” - -“You mean you’ve lost it already?” - -“It’s in my mitten. Where Mother put it. Do I have to give it back to -Mother?” - -“No, you may keep it. When we get to Albany you can take a ride on the -streetcar with it, but unless you can promote a little more cash you’ll -have to walk back,” he teased. - -“I’d have to take Mame with me,” she demurred, “and she always grumbles -that her feet hurt.” - -The good smell of dinner met them at the door as they entered, and some -warmth from the glowing fires that had been piled high with logs. The -furnaces too gave up a grudging wave of heat and, warming his hands at -the wood fire, Theodore was glad they would not have to struggle with -inadequate heating much longer. This house had been built for summer and -was delightful at that season, catching the breezes from the Bay. The -trouble was that the wind was just as enthusiastic in winter, and the -curtains at the windows now waved gently as it frolicked around the high -gables. - -Ted was sitting on the stairs, capped and mittened, his new sled at his -feet. - -“I thought you’d never come, Father,” he fretted. “Mother says I can’t -go out alone.” - -“I don’t think he should go out at all,” declared Edith, “but I agreed -to leave the decision to you.” - -“There’s not enough snow, Ted,” his father told him. “It wouldn’t carry -your sled. You’ll have to wait for a heavier snowfall. From the look of -those clouds we should get it tonight.” - -Ted stared ruefully out the window. “Why is God so stingy? In Albany -there won’t be any place to use a sled. Mame said so.” - -“There are parks in Albany, Ted,” Edith assured him, “and likely grounds -around the capitol building and there is sure to be a hill there -somewhere.” - -“But it won’t be here! I want to slide here where we live.” - -“I saw two flakes of snow falling,” comforted Alice. “I saw them on my -muff.” - -“Church must have been very short today,” Edith said. “You were only -gone an hour.” - -Theodore told her about the rector’s being housed with the grippe. - -“I’m always afraid of that in winter,” she said. “That siege Ted had -once weakened him so. That’s why I try to keep him from exposing -himself.” - -“Dinner is served,” was announced at the door. - -“Let’s all march in,” Theodore suggested. - -“But first we must all wash our hands,” said the mother. “Run along -upstairs. Ted, leave your hat and coat up there. I’m not sure I want you -outside today.” - -“The outside air can’t hurt him,” demurred Roosevelt, when the troop had -pelted off up the stairs. - -“You aren’t sure of that. You can be too insistent about toughening up -Ted, as the doctor reminded you. After all, you were a frail child -yourself.” - -“But my life in Dakota toughened me. Now I never have a pain and rarely -a cold,” he insisted. - -“You were grown then. Give your sons a chance to grow, Theodore.” - -“I suppose you are right. You usually are. Anyway, this is going to be a -dour day, although those clouds show a few signs of thinning and letting -the sun shine through.” He studied the sky from the window. - -They went in to dinner then and there was the usual argument about who -should say grace. Ethel won and hurried through the little verse, -conscious of impatient looks from her brothers, moving their eyes though -their heads were bowed. - -There was a bounteous spread on the table and for the first time in days -there were no guests. Obviously everyone was respecting a family’s -desire for privacy on this holiday and Edith was grateful. - -The big turkey that old Davis, the gardener, had fattened in a little -pen, feeding it corn and all the scraps from the kitchen, stood brown -and beautiful at the head of the table and Theodore sharpened the -carving knife on the steel with a ringing noise. - -“Only two drumsticks,” he remarked, slicing away, “so somebody has to be -content with the second joint.” - -The expected shrill protests arose, Kermit insisting that he had never -had a drumstick since he could remember. - -“You can’t remember long then,” declared Ted, “for you had one at -Thanksgiving.” - -“We’ll settle this.” Roosevelt took an envelope from his pocket and tore -it into strips, two longer than the others. “The long pieces get the -drumsticks and no more said about it.” He folded them carefully in his -hands with the ends visible and passed them around the table. - -Ethel and Archie won and squealed with delight, while Alice remarked -philosophically, “I’d rather have breast, anyway. Drumsticks are dry and -tough.” - -Before the dessert was served, the maid approached the head of the -table. - -“Three gentlemen to see Mr. Roosevelt,” she announced. - -“Ask them in to the fire and invite them to sit down and wait,” said -Theodore. “Are they elderly gentlemen?” - -“No, sir. They’re young and sort of brown and tough looking.” - -He jumped, upsetting his glass of water. “My boys!” he exclaimed, -hurrying out while Kermit and Archie scurried after. - -“Soldiers, Mother,” Kermit ran back to report, “and Father’s hugging -them.” - -“How do you know they’re soldiers?” demanded Ted. - -“They saluted!” Kermit was triumphant. “Just like Father taught us.” - -Oh, me! wailed Edith Roosevelt silently to herself, not even Christmas -dinner alone! She rang the bell quickly. - -“Set three more places,” she directed the girl who answered. “Mr. -Roosevelt will have guests. But you are all to sit still,” she ordered -the children. - -“Don’t I stand up and bow like you told me?” asked Ted. - -“No, you only bow a little when you are introduced.” - -“You only stand up for ladies,” explained Alice. - -Edith rose herself to greet the three young men who followed Theodore -into the dining room. They were plainly dressed and obviously slightly -embarrassed. Roosevelt introduced them by name or rather by nicknames. - -“This is Lew, and Ike, and Cricket. They shared their shelter with me -one rainy night in Cuba.” - -“We hate to bust in this way, ma’am,” said Cricket, who was older than -the other two. “We asked the Colonel to let us go and wait and come -back.” - -“Nonsense! You’ve come a long way and it’s cold outside,” the Colonel -said. “Sit here, and here, and you, Ike, over there.” He introduced the -children who forgot to eat in their excitement. - -“Mighty pretty daughters you’ve got, Colonel. Smart-looking boys, too,” -said Ike. - -“Thank you,” Edith replied graciously, not looking at Alice, who had -murmured thanks and straightened her shoulders, posing a little as she -was inclined to do. - -Roosevelt ordered the turkey brought back and began carving and filling -the three extra plates put before him. - -“These boys came up here all the way from South Carolina,” he explained -to Edith, “and stopped to call on me.” - -“We’re on our way to Pennsylvania. Got jobs in the mills there, ma’am, -but when we got near this place we just had to see the Colonel, so we -hired a rig and come out here. Never thought about its being Christmas.” - -“You’re very welcome,” Edith assured them. - -“Did you kill any Spaniards in Cuba?” asked Ted, while the visitors -helped themselves gratefully to the food being served by the maid. - -“Well, we shot at a lot of them, so we must have hit a few,” replied -Cricket. - -“Anyway, they were shooting at us from up in trees and under bushes, and -there were too many trees and bushes for a man to take any chances.” - -“Anyway, we licked ’em,” said Lew. “When a Spaniard runs he runs. And -yells.” - -“Have you got your guns?” Ethel asked. - -“No, miss, we were discharged from service so we turned in our rifles.” - -“Father has a lot of guns,” observed Kermit. “Ted can shoot, but I -can’t.” - -“You will be old enough before long,” said his father. “Ted shoots very -well for an eleven-year-old.” - -“I hit the bull’s eye twice,” Ted bragged, while Edith controlled the -little jerk of panic she always felt when she thought of her eldest son -with that gun. “Teach him early enough and he’ll know how to handle a -weapon wisely,” had been Theodore’s argument when the new light rifle -had been brought home. - -Edith excused herself when the meal was over and went upstairs but the -children refused to follow as she suggested. They followed the men -instead, even Alice taking a chair in a corner, tucking her feet up -under her, a habit Mame much deplored. Ted sprawled on his stomach on -the floor at his father’s feet, chin on palms, while Archie crawled -under Roosevelt’s chair and curled up there, half asleep. - -The talk was fascinating to the children, even to Ethel, who had never -showed any female dismay at violence; indeed she was a real little -warrior herself, holding her own with two older brothers. All the -Roosevelt children had been taught to stand for the right and fight for -it if necessary, and there had been times when their mother secretly -regretted this branch of her husband’s education, when Ted came home -with a split lip and spectacles bent, or all of them engaged in battles -in the nursery. - -Alice had her own room now and was inclined to stay aloof when violence -threatened, but earlier she had been one of the stoutest fighters. - -Kermit leaned on his father’s shoulder drinking in the stories of -Spanish ambushes and night attacks, of the renegade Cubans who begged -food from the Rough Riders and then carried information to the Spanish -headquarters. - -“I shot one buzzard,” said Cricket. “He begged for some beans and I only -had a spoonful and then he drew out a rusty old pistol. I got him before -he could cock it.” - -“Bang between the eyes?” questioned Kermit. - -“Well, no. Elsewhere in the body,” replied Cricket delicately. “But the -worst thing in Cuba wasn’t the Spaniards or being shot at, it was the -goldurn mosquitoes—begging your pardon, Colonel.” - -“They were so thick we had to cover up our heads with blankets to get -any sleep.” Lew took up the story while Roosevelt smiled ruefully. “We -couldn’t light a fire to smoke ’em out most of the times. That was what -their sharpshooters were waiting for. Man show himself in the light and -down he went!” - -“The fever was bad too,” Roosevelt said. “It has already made very -doubtful any hope of building a canal across Panama.” - -“We had more sick with fever than we had wounded, even when we charged -the Hill,” Ike recalled. “Well, we must be heading back, you fellows. -It’s been fine seeing you again, Colonel, and we’re sure proud New York -elected you governor.” - -“We sure are,” agreed his lanky companions, rising to their feet. - -“Our thanks for a good dinner, sir, and give our thanks to your good -wife. We better push on, our man we hired to drive us is waiting and our -train leaves at six o’clock and it’s a long way to the station.” - -“I’m honored by your visit, boys,” Roosevelt followed them into the -hall, the children trotting after. - -When the Rough Riders had gone, Roosevelt picked up the sleeping Archie -and carried him up the stairs, Ted climbing after, asking with every -breath, “Can I go out now, Father? Is there enough snow for my sled?” - -“There’s almost no more snow, Ted, but we’ll hope for some to fall -overnight. Those fellows,” he said to Edith when he had put Archie on -his bed and covered him well, “came out of their way to see me and I was -very much honored by their visit. They hired that driver too and I don’t -doubt they needed the money. Men who work in mills and have families -have little money to spare. At least I know Cricket has a family. He -showed me pictures of two boys when we were waiting for transportation -in Tampa. He attached himself to me as a sort of unofficial aide. There -was not much emphasis on rank in my command.” - -“And what there was I’m sure you ignored,” said Edith indulgently. “It -was undoubtedly a very democratic organization.” - -“When you’re depending on a man to fire in time to save your life you -have no use for protocol. That boy Lew, who had so little to say, twice -saved my horse from being shot under me. Rank loses its importance when -a lot of savage men are attacking you, and you see your men fall and -know the next bullet may be for you. They were all gallant, all of them. -I owe them more than I can ever repay.” - -“Shall we go down now to the fires?” Edith asked. “By the way, Davis -won’t be back today. I gave him Christmas afternoon off to be with his -family. Some of his children have come home bringing their children with -them. Can you attend to the furnaces?” - -“I’d better put on some overalls. That’s a dirty job. Then I’m going to -take the youngsters out awhile. We can have a romp in the barn. They get -too restless in the house all day. I’ll keep Ted’s feet dry,” he -promised. - -“And don’t let them get overheated,” she warned. “That thermometer -downstairs hasn’t risen above freezing all day. It seems awfully cold -for so early in the winter. I hear Quentin now. I’ll take him down by -the fire so Mame can get some rest.” - -He shrugged into a rough army coat and cotton overalls and went below to -poke and rattle vociferously at the two furnaces, shoveling out ashes, -wondering whimsically what the important politicians of New York would -think if they saw their governor-elect carrying a hod? Certainly they -would respect him the more if they saw him in working garb at such a -menial task, at least the working classes would and there were a lot -more of them who had voted for him. - -When the furnaces were filled and burning well he carried up several -armloads of wood, panting a little from the steepness of the stairs. -Edith sat beside the fire holding small Quentin, while Kermit crawled -about her feet, pushing a toy cannon about and yelling “Bang!” - -Edith looked him over, aghast. “Theodore, those are your church -clothes!” - -“I had overalls over them and a jacket, but I’m going up to change now -to take the children out.” - -Kermit jumped up and rushed after him, shouting, “Father’s going out to -play. Father’s going out to play.” - -Alice emerged from her room where she had been stowing away her -Christmas presents, and in the nursery Ethel hastily put her doll to bed -and flew out. - -“May we climb trees, Father?” she asked. - -“Not today. It’s too damp and cold. Today we’ll play in the barn.” - -Archie woke up then and came trudging after his father. “Are you going -to shave, Father? May we watch you shave?” - -“No, I’m not going to shave. Find your coat and cap. Mame’s asleep and -Mother’s busy with the baby. Ted! Where are you? This expedition is -about to start. Overshoes for everybody. Bring yours in here, Archie, -and I’ll buckle them for you.” - -It was Theodore Roosevelt’s favorite march, over the yard and out -through the fences to the old barn that he had sentimentally left -standing when he built Sagamore Hill because, he told himself, it had -such a nice big haymow. When he had pushed forward with his men at San -Juan Hill, struggling through thorny brush where poisonous snakes -lurked, slipping and sliding over the matted vegetation, he had had the -same feeling of leading a troop of trusting souls as he had now, -propping the heavy barn door open till the last straggler panted -through. - -“I speak to play cowboy,” shouted Ted. - -“You need outdoors for cowboys,” Alice objected, “and horses!” - -“Can’t we have the pony out, Father?” Ted begged. “Grant hasn’t had any -exercise today.” - -“No, I promised Mother we’d play inside. It’s fairly warm in here. -Who’ll be first up the ladder?” - -“Me!” shrilled adventurous Ethel. “But we can’t climb with these -overshoes on. They’re too slippery.” - -“Stack them all here neatly. And nobody is to turn and jump back down -that ladder,” their father ordered. - -“She did one day,” declared Kermit, “she landed right on my stomach.” - -“You had your stomach in the way of my feet.” Ethel flashed quickly up -the ladder. The others came after, Theodore taking the rear to help -Archie, who had to be lifted up the last steps. The mow above was high -and lighted by a dusty window. The roof had chinks here and there -between the aged shingles, letting in pale beams of light that showed -the ragged mounds of hay with a pitchfork sticking up out of one stack. - -Ted promptly seized this and began waving it, shouting, “I’m a Rough -Rider. I choose Father with me. The rest of you can be Spaniards.” - -Theodore recovered the menacing weapon firmly and stood it in a far -corner. “No Rough Rider fought with a pitchfork. I’ll be the Spaniards. -The rest of you can attack from those stacks over there. Remember we -beat the Spaniards!” - -There was a great deal of yelling “Bang! Bang!” and when the hay was -pretty well flattened and the children swarming over him Roosevelt -obligingly lay flat pretending to gasp and moan from a lethal wound. His -acting was so realistic that Ethel began to cry. - -“I don’t like being Spaniards,” she wailed. “I don’t want to hurt -Father.” - -He sat up, reaching for her. “I’m not hurt,” he comforted, “just -slightly out of breath. That hay is dusty. Now everybody help. We’ll -pile it up again.” He retrieved the pitchfork and set to work, flinging -forkfuls of hay in the air while the children gathered up as much as -they could hold. - -They achieved a beautifully rounded stack that almost reached the -rafters and instantly Kermit and Ethel flung themselves at it, squealing -happily. - -“Stop! You’ll tear it down,” yelled Ted, blinking as the last ray of sun -through the shingles glinted off his spectacles. “I want it all round -and pretty.” - -“We’ll play Indians and this is the Bad Lands of Dakota,” said his -father. “Ted and Kermit will be Indians and the girls and Archie and I -will be the settlers hiding from them.” - -“I want to be an Indian,” Archie protested. “I can yell loud.” He -emitted a piercing whoop to prove it. - -“Indians don’t yell,” said Ted, scornfully. “They creep out of ambush -very stealthily.” He quoted triumphantly from the stories their father -had read to them. “They like to surprise their victims.” - -“When they’re on horseback they yell,” Roosevelt said. “But you’ll be -prowling Indians. They know how to be still as mice. And twice as -deadly.” He twined a spray of hay through Archie’s hair for a feather. -Instantly Ted and Kermit had to have feathers too and tying knots in -their short hair to hold a dry wisp of hay erect was a slow business. - -“I wish we had some war paint,” said Ted, studying his brothers with -grudging approval. “I could have used some of my water colors if I’d -known we were going to play Indians.” - -“You’d get it on your shirt and Mame would scold,” Kermit reminded him. - -“She scolds anyway,” remarked Ted. “Mame is a very scoldy person.” - -“Your faces are dirty enough to pass for Indians,” stated their father. -“And remember that Mame is good and faithful and devoted to you -children. You must always be kind to Mame and respectful and never talk -back to her.” - -“Ethel kicked her once,” Ted tattled. - -“She swept up my paper doll hats. Anyway, I didn’t kick her hard and I -got punished for it.” - -Theodore Roosevelt knew that his children, indulged as they were in many -ways, were sure that retribution for any misbehavior was certain and -swift, relentlessly applied after any wrongdoing. His was always the -correcting hand when he was at home, Edith always resigning that job to -her husband, and he comforted himself with the idea that when they were -bad they were still pretty good children. At least they were truthful, -only Kermit now and then letting his facile imagination run ahead of him -too fast but he was always sternly corrected for it, and as a rule his -brothers and sisters dealt scornfully with his fancies. - -“Now, the settlers will hide, and the Indians have to find them, and any -redskin who is recognized gets shot,” Roosevelt outlined the rules. - -“I wish I had a sunbonnet,” said Alice, as she made a little nest for -herself far down in the warm hay. “Settlers’ wives always wore -sunbonnets.” - -“You’re wearing an imaginary sunbonnet,” said her father. “Tie it -tightly under your chin and I’ll get my imaginary gun ready. Keep quiet, -boys, and hide far down there behind the hay.” - -He helped the girls to crouch deep in the dry stack, Alice disliking the -tickle of the hay on her neck and impatiently slapping at it while Ethel -burrowed happily as a mole. - -“Holler when you’re ready,” called Ted from the opposite side of the -stack. - -“Settlers never let Indians know where they are hiding,” objected their -father, who had dug himself deep into a pile; more excited and intrigued -by the game than the young ones. - -The Indians finally advanced, stealth being somewhat diminished by -giggles from Archie and muttered orders to be quiet from Ted. Kermit -gave a war whoop as he sprang at his father but landed in a heap where -Roosevelt promptly dispatched him with an imaginary pistol and a very -realistic “Bang.” Farther around the pile there were screams and snarls -as Ted crept down on Ethel and grabbed her pig-tailed hair. - -“You’re scalped!” he shouted. “You’re dead and scalped!” - -Ethel promptly rolled on her back, walled up her eyes and made a -melancholy face so realistic that Ted began to whimper. - -“Make her stop, Father! She’s scaring me!” - -“The game is over,” announced Roosevelt, lifting Kermit to his feet. -Close by Alice and Archie had been tussling, Alice subduing the attack -by tickling the Indian till he squirmed and giggled. “Brush the hay off -your clothes. Now we’ll mend the stack again and see who can jump the -farthest.” - -“Oh, that’s easy!” bragged Ethel, reviving from the dead. “I can. I -always do beat the boys.” - -“You can’t beat me if Father will hold my glasses,” Ted objected. - -“Stack hay and don’t argue. Archie, take off your jacket, you’ve got the -back of your shirt full of hay.” - -“It’s inside mine too,” said Kermit. “It scratches.” - -“If we had been real Indians we wouldn’t have on shirts, we’d just have -some stripes of war paint.” Ted began busily piling up the hay. “That -game wasn’t fair anyway because Archie giggled and Alice forgot to shoot -quick.” - -“He fell on me.” She stood up. “Oh me! There’s Mame, scared to death to -climb the ladder. Father, don’t make us go in yet.” - -Mame’s head, wrapped in a crocheted wool scarf, showed halfway up the -ladder. “Gentlemen to see the Colonel,” she announced, “Mrs. Roosevelt -says it’s important.” - -“Don’t go, Father,” pleaded Ted. “Tell Mother to send them away.” - -“I can’t do that, Ted, because from now on I’m the servant of the people -of New York. Ask them to wait by the fire, Mame, tell them I’ll be in -presently.” Roosevelt shook the hay from his shirt and jacket and -studied the disappointed faces of his children. All the faces were -definitely grimy but each one reflected woe. - -“Go ahead,” Roosevelt directed when Mame had backed gingerly down the -ladder. “Oldest jump first. See how high you can land on the hay. We can -jump for ten minutes.” He took out his watch. - -Fifteen minutes later he led his bedraggled, breathless crew back to the -house, entering through the rear door though usually he was most -unconcerned about his own appearance, especially when the children were -with him. But now, with his new responsibilities, he was beginning to be -aware that he owed a certain distinction of attire to these people who -had elected him to the most important office in the most important -state. Also he was thinking uneasily of Edith’s carefully disciplined -but inwardly disapproving attitude. - -Mame met them in the hall, her own disapproval not masked at all. “I -declare, you always seem to bring them back looking like ragamuffins, -Colonel Roosevelt! Hurry up, all of you! Colonel, you’ve got a dirty -face yourself. Your guests are in the library. Mrs. Roosevelt had me -serve them some wine.” - -As he hurried up the stairs Roosevelt was hoping that this waiting group -would not be church dignitaries or any others who would resent being -served wine. Edith was in their room changing for dinner after tending -Quentin all afternoon. She looked at him and shook her head. - -“Well, at least you did come up to change.” She sounded relieved. “I -don’t know who they are. Mame let them in. After tending the baby all -afternoon I wasn’t presentable myself. The nurse will be back at nine -o’clock, thank goodness. I let her go home for Christmas. Hurry and -change. They’ve already been there half an hour, with a horse waiting -out there in the cold.” - -Through the window they could see a handsome bay horse and smart -carriage waiting outside, the horse well blanketed and secured by an -iron weight. - -“Looks really important,” said Theodore, as he washed the dust of the -loft off his face. “But they could have waited till Christmas was over -and given a man a chance for a day in peace with his family.” - -“Tomorrow it will be worse,” she reminded him. “You’ll have to be -excused to sort your papers and I shall have to oversee the packing. We -have just four days to get to Albany and I’d hate you to miss your own -inauguration ceremony.” - -“Is this jacket all right? After all, I’m supposed to be informal at -home.” - -“It will do. Straighten your tie. You always seem to get the knot -slightly crooked.” - -“So you will have some reason to notice me, my dear.” - -He kissed her, grinning like a boy, and hurried down the stairs thinking -that his Edith was still the loveliest thing alive and the best thing -that had ever happened to one Theodore Roosevelt. - -The three men rose as he entered the library and introduced themselves, -though he already knew their identity having had some dealings with them -when he was Police Commissioner of New York City. They were all members -of the Board of Authority, a department of the city government, and -immediately Roosevelt sensed that their mission was to gain some -advantage in advance from the governor-elect. - -The idea angered him and he made an excuse to mend the fire, poking and -banging till he had worked off his momentary attack of spleen. Then he -was ready for their proposal which came promptly, voiced in turn by each -of the three. Roosevelt said nothing, sitting rubbing the back of his -neck as he often did absently when he was trying to keep a cool head, a -thing that with his impetuous nature and itch for action was not easy -for him to do. - -Finally, when their bland recital of their purpose in coming -here—intruding on a father’s holiday at home—was all stated, the last -part in concert, he jumped to his feet, paced across the room and back -and braced himself facing them. - -“Gentlemen, you have asked me to intervene in this matter which -primarily affects only the City of New York, and your office, authority -and functions in that city. Let me remind you in the first instance that -I am not yet governor of New York nor will I be for several days. -Secondly, I remind you that interference of this type is no function of -the governor, and that your appeal (if it is an appeal) should be lodged -with the proper authority to consider it. After that, gentlemen, I bid -you good day.” - -The three men went out grumbling and Theodore stamped up the stairs -angrily, to where Edith sat by the fire, rocking Quentin, who had the -sniffles, to sleep. - -“Low, unprincipled scoundrels,” he stormed, “coming out here on -Christmas Day to ask a favor of me knowing all the time it would be -utterly outside all order and sense for me even to consider it.” - -“There will be a great deal of that in a state like New York,” Edith -reminded him. “You might as well make up your mind to accept it and be -able to combat it calmly. Your experience as Police Commissioner -certainly taught you that.” Edith was not too certain in her mind that -anything she said would do any good. Theodore’s first impulse was always -to fight any imposition or injustice toward himself or any other -innocent party, whether the war was waged against the oppressed Cubans -or against civic or national righteousness. - -That he was usually effective only increased his crusader’s urge and his -wife had her own moments of trepidation about facing his career as -governor. She had a clear and analytic mind that was always able to face -truth even in its ugliest mien and she had a quiet dread of all those -stone walls of intrenched selfishness and evil against which Theodore -Roosevelt’s militant nature might hurl itself in vain. He had had so -many high periods of satisfaction and achievement these past years he -had become an idol to many but she knew that from the dawn of the -history of the world the lands of it had been paved with the scattered -dust of fallen idols. - -She said then, “Mame is bathing the boys and Ethel, and they’ll go to -bed early. Then you and I and Alice will have a quiet supper downstairs. -The cook came in just a few minutes ago. Poor soul, she spent nearly the -whole of Christmas afternoon just going over to see her sister and carry -her a white fascinator she had crocheted. She was too conscientious -about her duty here to take time even for a Christmas visit.” - -But Theodore was still not soothed or mollified. “Those fellows who came -here had the presumption to ask me to intervene in a civic matter that -concerns only their own interests in the City of New York.” He resumed -his angry self-justification, “I practically showed them the door. They -were important men and politically powerful and now I have undoubtedly -made three powerful and influential enemies.” - -“You’ll make more, Theodore. You always have when you were in a position -of power just as every man does.” - -“Those fellows infuriated me by implying that at this stage of my public -life I would risk being devious. All right, my dear, I won’t let them -spoil our Christmas, what’s left of it. You are an angel to listen so -understandingly to my tantrums. And before I forget it let me tell you -you are just as pretty and sweet and cute as you were when you were -sixteen years old.” He bent and kissed her. - -“When I was sixteen I was an awful prig,” she said. “I remember. I -wasn’t much better when you married me.” - -“You were perfect when you married me. I was the humblest, most grateful -man on earth that you were willing to risk a life with a rough, tactless -fellow like me. But it has all been pretty good, hasn’t it, Edie? Now,” -he promised, “it will be even better.” - -Alice came in then looking a trifle wan. “Aren’t we going to have supper -soon? I’m starving. The boys and Ethel are eating already in the -nursery. I tried to beg a piece of cold turkey but Mame made me go out -and leave them alone. Mame,” she remarked, with a little flare of -self-importance, “ought to realize that I’m almost a young lady.” - -“Mame will realize it when you act like a young lady,” said her father, -“and not like a spoiled child. Let’s go now. Mother has to put the baby -to bed, then she’ll be down.” - -He took his daughter’s hand, though he sensed that irritated her, but -squeezed it gently with a comradely pressure and they ran down the last -few steps laughing as they entered the dining room, where a cold supper -was spread. - -“We’re both out of breath,” he remarked. “We’ve got to run more. We’ll -start tomorrow. In Albany—” - -“I don’t want to go,” she wailed abruptly. “I want to stay here.” - -“We’d all like to stay here,” he said, “even if there are times when -this house is as hard to heat as it has been lately.” - -“Davis tends the furnace better,” said Alice with the bluntness that was -beginning to be a characteristic of hers. It was like his own -forthrightness, he admitted. Fortunately as the years went on an -acquired tact and his innate kindness saved him from too many blunders, -and Edith’s influence helped tame his impetuous instinct to speak out -before he thoughtfully considered a subject. - -Edith came in then and Roosevelt gallantly seated his wife and daughter, -making both gestures equally formal to Alice’s evident approval. Then he -picked up the carving knife but laid it down at an admonishing look from -Edith. - -“Alice, will you say grace?” he asked politely. - -When she had finished he surveyed the remains of what had been a huge -turkey. - -“Our bird seems to have suffered from the ravages of a hungry tribe of -Roosevelts,” he turned it over. “I do find a little dark meat left and -some dressing. And oh yes, here is the intact remainder of the liver. -Alice, you may have that. It makes red blood and you’ll need it when you -tackle the beginnings of algebra and French. My dear,” he bowed across -the table, “how will you have your bones?” - -“Anything edible,” said Edith. “I’m not at all particular.” - -She sat at the foot of the table looking every inch the poised, -self-contained and gracious mistress of his house. He knew that she was -good for him, taming his occasional warlike impulses as perhaps no other -woman could have done. One quieting word from her was usually enough to -steady him and calm his rages as she had just done without in the least -appearing to do, upstairs. - -Alice began her argument again. “Mother, why can’t I go to Albany with -the rest of the family?” - -“Because your mother’s family want you to have every advantage, Alice.” -Edith spoke quietly, waving off an interruption from Theodore with a -flick of her hand, “You must be grateful for them and for the education -they are able to give you. A girl like you is born with an obligation to -make the most of herself and I am sure you will, as I hope my own -children will too.” - -“That sounds like a lecture,” fretted Alice. “I’ll get enough lectures -from my aunts and grandmother. They are always lecturing me to be a lady -and I think ladies are stupid. I’d like to go to Dakota with Father and -be a cowgirl. I ride better then the boys do now.” - -“Your aunt will probably see to it that you have riding lessons in New -York,” Edith said. - -“I know about those. Side saddle and a derby hat and horses so slow and -stodgy they won’t gallop. I had some the last time I was there at -grandmother’s, with a silly groom leading the horse around by the -bridle.” - -Edith sighed. She had devotedly tried to do her best for Theodore’s -daughter but Alice, like her father, had been born a rebel with an -individuality that would always resent any set pattern of behavior. At -least, Edith comforted herself, the responsibility was not hers alone -nor could she reproach herself if inherited traits were too strong. -Thank goodness there was no rampant individuality in her own small -daughter! Ethel was usually as placid as a Dutch housewife, though she -could not be imposed upon and always stood stubbornly for her own -rights. - -Dinner was not quite over when two small figures appeared at the dining -room door. In their nightclothes Kermit and Ethel stood there, their -small feet blue with cold. - -“Go back to bed quickly, you’ll catch your death of cold!” their mother -scolded, herding them back toward the stairway. - -“I’ll come along,” said Theodore. “I’ll just go back and find the -chivalry book, as Ted calls it.” - -“You spoil them,” protested his wife. “They were up before dawn this -morning.” - -“Early yet,” he made excuse, “only a little after eight.” - -“It’s almost nine,” she corrected. “Supper was late because Christmas -upset the household routine. Jump in bed, both of you. Kermit, -wait—we’ll have to wipe off the bottoms of your feet. You forgot your -slippers again.” - -“They fall off. Anyway, they’re not so very dirty.” - -“Too black for the sheets.” Mame came in then as Edith was tucking the -covers around Ethel. - -“They slipped out when I was back in my room,” she explained. “Kermit is -always slipping out of his bed. He’d sleep under it half the time if I -didn’t watch him, makes me feel like tying him into it.” - -“I can untie knots,” he said defiantly, “or I could chew the rope in -two.” - -“Don’t be saucy,” his mother said, sponging the thin grimy toes. “Run -along, Mame, Colonel Roosevelt is coming up to read to them.” - -“It’ll be battles or Injun fighting and get them all stirred up and -excited,” grumbled Mame as she went out. - -Alice followed her father into the nursery. “I’m surely glad I have my -own room,” she said. “There’s just no peace or privacy in this nursery -any more.” - -“It’s time you were in bed too, Alice,” said her stepmother. “You were -up before dawn this morning.” - -“I want to hear the story,” Alice was plaintive. “I promise to go to bed -right after. After all I won’t be with Father very much longer.” - -“Let her stay, I’ll hustle her to bed right after,” said Roosevelt. - -Ted sat up, regarded the book his father was opening. “I vote for Sir -Lancelot,” he announced firmly. - -“I vote for dragons,” said Kermit. “I like stories with dragons with -fire coming out their noses.” - -“Are there any dragons in Dakota, Father?” Ethel wanted to know. “Where -you shot all the animals? Those up on the wall?” - -“Of course not!” Alice was scornful. “Dragons are a fairy tale like -gnomes and giants.” - -“Goliath wasn’t a fairy tale,” declared Ted. “He is in the Bible and the -Bible is the Word of God.” - -“Goliath was a tall, strong man,” said his father. “We still see and -hear of very tall, strong men who in that day when most men were short -would have been called giants. I knew a cowhand in the West who was -seven feet tall without his boots. When he rode an average size cow pony -his feet almost touched the ground, he could step over a yearling calf -or a fence as easily as you can step over a threshold.” - -“I can jump over a fence,” bragged Kermit, “if I can climb up a little -way.” - -“Ponies can jump over without climbing,” said Ted, “but they have very -strong muscles in their back legs. They can kick hard too. Grant kicked -a pig once and made him roll over and squeal loud. He tried to eat my -straw hat once too.” - -“You were crawling around under his front legs. He saw the hat and -thought it was good to eat,” Alice defended her pet pony. - -“That was the summer Father found the big hollow tree and he let us down -inside it on a rope. You wouldn’t remember that, Ethel, you were just a -baby.” - -“She was three. Father let her down too,” Alice recalled, “and she was -scared to death and screamed.” - -“It was dark down there,” said their father. “We will now end all -reminiscing and read the book. But first, Alice, toss a little light -wood on that fire.” - -“I like open fires better than radiators,” Alice said. “On radiators you -can’t toast marshmallows. And if you put your feet on one with rubbers -on they smell awful.” - -The old tale of Sir Lancelot and the wicked Sir Modred, the wizard and -the dragon, held them enthralled for fifteen minutes. Theodore was a -slow and dramatic reader and though the book was a simplified version -for children it was not too simplified and he skipped none of the long -words, but enunciated each clearly, sometimes pausing to make the older -ones say what the word meant and speak it several times. Ted already had -a mature vocabulary for his age and the children had heard very little -baby talk from their parents, though an occasional visitor was apt to -gush and coo, to the boys’ thinly veiled disgust. - -Archie was already asleep when the story was finished and Kermit’s eyes -were glazing though he fought to keep them open. When Alice followed her -father out she observed in a suave tone of superiority that reminded -Theodore vaguely of his own mother. “After all, Father, we have to -remember that they are only children. Archie is practically an infant -yet.” - -“We’ll remember that, Alice, and be very charitable in our judgments,” -he answered with the same gravity. “Now you scamper before Mother scolds -both of us.” - -Suddenly she flung her arms around him. “Oh, Father, I don’t want to go -back to New York. I hate it! Why can’t I go to Albany with you?” - -“That has been all decided and explained to you. Your mother’s family -are very fond of you and do a great deal for you, and you must be -grateful. Not many young girls are so lucky.” - -“There are so many rules,” she sighed. “Life is too bewildering and -mixed up for a young girl.” - -“What a young girl needs at this stage of her growth is sleep.” He gave -her a fatherly smack. “Get along with you now, and be content for a few -years to leave the problems to older people who love you and want the -best for you.” - -She was halfway down the stairs and she left him very reluctantly and -backed up the rest of the flight, calling “Good night, Father.” - -When she was safely in her room he went back to the library fire where -Edith was sitting, on her knee a piece of embroidery stretched on a -hoop. - -“All should now be silent.” He dropped gratefully into a deep chair. -“From the way my own eyelids feel I’ll be ready to join them in -unconsciousness very soon. This has been a long day.” - -“And tomorrow will be another,” she said, “but this has been a good day. -For me at least. When none of the children are ailing with anything,” -spoke the mother, “I am content. I hope and pray we don’t have too many -visitors to usurp your time tomorrow, as no one else can sort and pack -most of your personal papers.” - -“Undoubtedly the locusts will descend as they usually do on a new man in -office. Favors, always favors, and if they can get in a word before the -other fellow they have the urge to speak it. And only one answer I can -give them now, no matter how righteous their plea. When that is no -longer timely I’ll have to depend on the grace of God to give me wisdom -but fortunately there will be other people between me and so much -importunity.” He got to his feet looking aghast. “Don’t tell me that’s -somebody else! I hear a horse and wheels.” - -“It may be Davis. Sometimes he borrows a horse to go to his preaching -service. You assured him it was all right.” She folded her work and -stood too, listening. “No, they are stopping outside, whoever it may be. -I’ll go up now, Theodore. No one wants to see me at this time of night.” - -The wheels outside were silent and though it was too dark and lowering -to see anything, Theodore heard two persons mounting the front steps, -moving very lightly. He went to the front door carrying a lamp with him, -and held it high to study the faces of his visitors. One was a gaunt, -middle-aged woman in a thin coat, her head tied up in a wool scarf, the -other a lank boy about fifteen who clawed off his hat and ducked his -head in embarrassment. - -“Evening, sir,” said the woman, bobbing stiffly. Her ungloved hands were -blue with cold, and her lips were blue and bitten. “I’m Dorsie Witten -come from away up in Oneida. I’ve come a long way to see you, sir. Part -of the ways by train and the rest with this hired rig. I sold two good -cows to fetch the money to come to see you when you got elected governor -and I hope you’ll listen patient to a heart-broke mother’s story.” - -“Come in! Come in out of the cold.” Theodore held the door wide, the raw -wind flaring the lamp. When they were inside he said, “Any woman who has -come so far deserves to be heard though I can’t promise I can do -anything for you. I’m not even governor of New York yet, you know.” - -“Well, you will be, sir. Clint here said I should wait till you come to -Albany that wasn’t so fur for us to travel, but I said there’d be so -many bigwigs crowding in to see you then I’d never even get let in much -less get a chance to talk to you.” - -“I hope no one will be turned away who really needs to see me, madam, -but the governor of a big state like New York is a mighty busy man as -you can understand,” he said. “Please sit down here by the fire and tell -me your business and make it brief if you don’t mind, for with five -children and the Christmas holiday I’ve had a long day.” - -“Is this Christmas?” she looked bewildered. “You know since Ollie got in -trouble I’ve been so worried and upset I don’t know Sunday from Monday. -You see, Governor, Ollie—Oliver he was named for his grandfather—is my -oldest boy and my dependence. I tried to raise both of my boys good and -honorable and Ollie wasn’t bad, Governor, he wasn’t a bad boy, he was -just quick-tempered like his daddy. Eph, my husband, was fire and tow, -he had a terrible temper and was easy to get mad, that’s how come Eph to -get into trouble.” - -“You’re here to see me about your husband?” he asked. - -“No, sir, can’t nothing be done for Eph. I been to the other governor -a’ready. He’s in Sing Sing for the rest of his life. He got mad years -ago and cut a man terrible so he died and they sent him up the river for -it but it’s Ollie that’s worrying me. Ollie’s only nineteen years old. -Ollie killed a man, Governor, and I ain’t defending him but it was in a -fair fight. Ollie shot to save his own life.” - -“He did not claim he shot in self-defense? A man has a right to defend -himself, in law, Mrs. Witten,” Roosevelt said. - -“Well, they brought out in the trial that the other feller was shot in -the back and didn’t have a gun with him. But he was heading for where it -stood, Governor, Ollie said so and I believe him. Ollie was just smart -and shot quick, knowing the other feller was a crack shot and would get -him from a long ways off. Now they’re sending Ollie up where his father -is, and I got nobody to depend on but Clint, and he ain’t just right in -his head, and I got three little ones, all girls. Clint forgets -everything. Come in from the field and wander off to town and leave the -mules out there hitched to the plow all night if the children and I -didn’t go out and fetch ’em in. I’ve finished many a field myself, -leaving my children playing in a furrow.” She twisted her thin hands -together, casting reproachful glances at Clint, whose stolid face showed -no emotion whatever. - -Roosevelt looked with some compassion at the woman’s ravaged face and -thin body. How many such would he see in the next two years, harassed, -frightened women, all desperately pleading mercy for violent-tempered -husbands or sons? For an instant the prospect appalled him and briefly -he dreaded the heavy responsibility of a great human population. - -Then sober judgment came, steadying his nerves, and he spoke in a calm, -fatherly voice. “Mrs. Witten, I know nothing of the facts in this case -of your son. A man who shoots another in the back condemns himself from -the first in the minds of all sober men.” - -“I been tellin’ Ma that,” stated Clint, speaking for the first time in a -voice surprisingly masculine and deep coming from such an undersized, -emaciated body. “All the way down here I told her it was a waste of -money comin’ way down here just to see you. Them was good cows we sold -to pay for it too.” - -“You know I’m not yet governor of New York,” Roosevelt reminded her. “I -have no legal right to do anything about any case, especially one that -has been already settled in the courts and the defendant convicted. What -possible defense could your son have for shooting an unarmed man in the -back? Didn’t he testify in his own defense?” - -“He swore he thought that feller—Morgan Tuttle was his name—was going -after his gun and Ollie knowed Morgan was a dead shot. He could have -killed Ollie from a hundred yards off and Ollie knowed it. They was -huntin’ together up in the mountains.” - -“That was what the fight was about,” put in Clint. “Deer they shot up in -them hills. Morgan wasn’t going to divide fair.” - -“Was that the legal season to kill a deer?” Roosevelt asked. “I thought -they were protected by law.” - -“No, it wasn’t, but it come out in the trial anyway because Morgan’s -wife blabbed to the law,” Clint supplied. “We ain’t paid Ollie’s lawyer -yet but he didn’t do nothin’ nohow.” - -“There was little he could do in the face of the evidence,” said -Roosevelt. - -“He said that,” she admitted, “and he said he aimed to charge us a -hundred dollars when he didn’t do nothing.” - -“Did he make you any promises?” - -“No, sir, he wouldn’t do that. He just said he’d do his best but he -didn’t do nothin’,” insisted Clint. - -“It’s hard to justify any man who shoots another in the back, even if he -has a weapon handy,” argued Roosevelt. “After all Ollie could have run. -He didn’t have to stand still and let the other man shoot at him.” - -“That’s what the judge said,” Clint added. - -“My men wasn’t never no hand to run away from trouble,” remarked Mrs. -Witten. “They always faced up to trouble mighty bold.” - -“It’s not being bold to shoot a man in the back,” commented the hero of -San Juan Hill, letting a little twinge of guilty memory come over him -briefly. How many men of the Spanish troops had he shot in the back in -Cuba? But that was war. The enemy had had the same chance to get him -from the rear and he had known it. As Ollie had had the chance to run, -so had the soldiers of Spain the chance to surrender but no man liked -the thought of killing a human being and soldiers had to be hardened -before they could do it, except in desperation to save their own lives. -Only the toughest ones had no qualms, and it was ironic that usually -they made the best infantry troops. - -He had had a few timorous and squeamish fellows in his Rough Riders but -when the fighting got hot they forgot their scruples and came through -gallantly. - -He sent the two Wittens away finally, promising to look into the case of -Ollie Witten further when he came into office: - -“I assume you want an official pardon for your son? There is nothing -else that can be done when a man is already serving his sentence except -a parole. And with Ollie’s record of violence I doubt that could be -attained. A pardon on a hardship plea would be your only hope.” - -“He got life like Pa,” Clint said, “and they told us he was mighty -lucky.” - -“He was lucky to escape the death penalty. How long has he been in -prison?” - -“Since October it was,” said the mother. “We a’ready been to the -governor—him that was governor before you got elected, sir, but he said -he couldn’t do nothin’. So I told Clint we’d wait till a new governor -got elected and soon as the corn was in we got somebody to tend the -place and we come here.” - -“I fear you had a long, expensive and fruitless trip,” said Roosevelt -dubiously, escorting them to the door. “Do you plan to go home tonight?” - -“Train leaves at midnight and it’s a fur piece from here,” Clint -answered. “Come on, Ma, we got to hurry. I told you he wasn’t going to -do nothin’, that we was just wastin’ time and money. And a cow home -fixing to come fresh any day.” - -Theodore Roosevelt went back up the stairs feeling heavy and depressed. -Edith looked up from the bed as he came into the room with a lighted -candle. - -“You look unhappy,” she said. “More office seekers? But I thought I -heard a woman’s voice.” - -“You did. A poor woman whose husband is in Sing Sing and her son has -just been sent there, both for murder. The son killed another man, shot -him in the back, but she thought I could do something about it, because -she has other children and needs him on the farm. She had a boy with her -about fifteen years old, she said he was not right in the head but he -seemed shrewd enough, talked as intelligently as his mother and had a -clearer idea of the difficulties of doing anything in a case like this -than she did.” - -“Mothers have too tender hearts always to have good sober judgment,” -said Edith quietly. “They have a way of letting their emotions obscure -their common sense, especially where their children are concerned. -Aren’t you coming to bed? You have a hard day tomorrow with Heaven knows -how many interruptions to frustrate you in getting things done.” - -“I think I’ll walk outside a little. I don’t feel like sleeping yet. A -bit of exercise will steady my nerves.” - -“I didn’t know you had that sort of nerves, Theodore.” - -“Now and then they take possession of me. Do you know, Edie,” he sat on -the edge of the bed, “there are times when I shrink a little from this -job I have set myself? After all New York is a big state, the most -important state in the Union.” - -“And you are a big man,” she consoled him. “And since San Juan Hill you -have been about the biggest man in the Union.” - -“Hero worship. Public hysteria. It can die as quickly as it flames and -it leaves some mighty cold and bitter ashes. There are vast numbers of -forgotten heroes in this country, men who rode the crest of a popular -wave and deluded themselves into thinking it would last forever. You can -be an old story overnight, and forgotten in a month if another object of -exciting interest appears. And there’s nothing so forlorn and pitiable -as an out-of-date and out-of-fashion hero. Well, I’ll try the open air -for a little. Usually it helps my thinking to use my legs and from now -on through the rest of the winter I’ll have little time or opportunity -to do it.” - -He went downstairs and let himself quietly out the front door, first -remembering his wife’s admonition to put on a heavy jacket. Buttoning an -old army coat up to his chin, he pulled on a battered old campaign hat, -rain- and sun-stained and faded, with the insigne of the Rough Riders -still pinned upon it, but now slightly tarnished. - -A thin spit of snow was still drifting and the air was damp with the -feel of the sea in it, but not bitterly freezing. He strode down the -hill from the house and took a path that led through the wooded land -where he had so often worked off his surplus energies by chopping down -trees and carefully cutting them into firewood. There was a pile of -cordwood on the edge of the timber and he stopped there and hefted a -log, lifting it off the top of the pile, balancing it on his shoulder as -woodsmen learn to do. - -The rough bark, held close to his face, smelled sharply of acid, so he -knew it was a branch from the wild cherry tree that had rotted at the -heart. It had been hard and tough to cut, requiring all his muscles to -shape it for sawing into logs for the fireplaces, but he had exulted in -the job of conquering this old tree just as he had gloried in every -strenuous task he had ever set himself. - -He laid the log back on the stack, sending down a shower of dry bark, -wondering when he would be free to chop wood again or wander these hills -followed by his adoring children, or swim in the Bay or teach Quentin to -dive off the diving board. He had instructed all the youngsters there, -tossing them into deep water relentlessly, ready to fish them out if -they foundered, but confident that they would conquer their fears and -learn to paddle about, being his own children. - -At any rate, he told himself, he was a lucky man, and if there were -times when public life irked him a little, bringing a faint regret that -outside affairs kept him from the quiet life he loved, he had to balance -all the rewards against the slight feeling of frustration, count the -honors as recompense. - -Destiny had somehow set his feet upon a road and he felt at times a deep -secret apprehension of where the road might lead. So far he had found -himself adequate to any task that confronted him, and standing still in -the quiet night air he felt the muscles of his spirit tense and a glow -pervade his body. - -He was not blind or deaf to certain portents in the air and, though he -never spoke of them or let his mind dwell upon them, they still -lingered, buried deep in his consciousness. There was always the echo of -casual words spoken, of gay songs being sung. - - _We’ll send you to the White House for the gallant deeds you’ve done._ - -All doggerel, all wishful thinking, he told himself, yet the idea -lingered, and now he let it float uppermost in his mind till there came -over him a sense of exhilaration, a promise of yet greater things ahead. -Impatiently he put the thought down, but it kept creeping up again till -his nerves tightened and he itched to do something tangible, attack -something conquerable. On an impulse he strode back to the house and in -a tool room found his ax, by the light of a single match. - -Back at the log pile he laid a huge branch across two others and hacked -away at it with the ax in the faint snow light, planting vigorous -strokes and telling blows, though it was difficult to aim a tool in the -thin light from the winter sky and more chips flew through the air than -bespoke an expert woodsman. - -When the branch was all reduced to proper lengths for burning he piled -the sticks carefully, wiping the sticky sap from his hands on the -sleeves of the old jacket. Then, shouldering the ax, he tramped back to -the house, feeling suddenly relaxed and weary in nerve and bone. The -sky, he noted, was slowly clearing and now and then a pale wisp of a -moon shone fleetingly against the scud of the wind-driven clouds. Over -the water a pale whiteness lighted the clouds as the moonlight -increased. - -Theodore Roosevelt was no mystic or fatuous dreamer, indeed the factual -and actual had always been paramount in his mind. He had never had the -weakness of nursing hopeful visions trying to bring them to reality. -Instead he had always gone out to fight for what he believed in and let -dreamers have their dreams. - -But why now was that faint glow in the eastern sky slowly taking on the -semblance of a great white dome towering against the horizon? In only -one place in the land was reared a majestic dome like that. - -Very humbly Theodore Roosevelt went back to his bed. - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - -—Silently corrected a few typos. - -—Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook - is public-domain in the country of publication. - -—In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by - _underscores_. - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHRISTMAS AT SAGAMORE HILL WITH -THEODORE ROOSEVELT *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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