THE DAY'S WORK
Betty Winter held John Vaughan's note in her hand staring at its message
with increasing amazement:
"DEAR LITTLE SWEETHEART:
"The President has just called General McClellan again to the chief
command. His act vindicates my loyalty. Our quarrel is too absurd.
Life is too short, dear, for this--it's only long enough for love.
May I see you at once?
"JOHN."
Could it be true? For a moment she refused to believe it. The President
had expressed to her his deep conviction of McClellan's guilt. How could
he reverse his position on so vital and tremendous a matter over night?
And yet John Vaughan was incapable of the cheap trick of lying to make
an engagement.
A newsboy passed yelling an extra.
"Extra--Extra! General McClellan again in the saddle! Extra!"
It was true--he had made the appointment. What was its meaning? Had they
forced the President into this humiliating act? If the General were
really guilty of destroying Pope and overwhelming the army in defeat,
his treachery had created the crisis which forced his return to power.
The return under such conditions would not be a vindication. It would be
a conviction of crime.
She would see the President at once and know the truth. The question cut
the centre of John Vaughan's character. The orderly who brought the note
was waiting for an answer.
She called from the head of the stairs:
"Tell Mr. Vaughan there is no answer to-day."
"Yes, Miss."
With quick salute he passed out and Betty stood irresolute as she
listened to the echo of his horse's hoof-beat growing fainter. It was
only six o'clock, but the days were getting shorter and it was already
dark. She could walk quickly down Pennsylvania Avenue and reach the
White House before dinner. He would see her at any hour.
In five minutes she was on the way her mind in a whirl of speculation on
the intrigue which might lie behind that sensational announcement. She
was beginning to suspect her lover's patriotism. A man could love the
South, fight and die for it and be a patriot--he was dying for what he
believed to be right--God and his country. But no man could serve two
masters. Her blood boiled at the thought of a conspiracy within the
lines of the Union whose purpose was to betray its Chief. If John
Vaughan were in it, she loved him with every beat of her heart, but she
would cut her heart out sooner than sink to his level!
She became conscious at last of the brazen stares of scores of
brutal-looking men who thronged the sidewalks of the Avenue.
Gambling dens had grown here like mushrooms during the past year of
war's fevered life. The vice and crime of the whole North and West had
poured into Washington, now swarming with a quarter of a million strange
people.
The Capital was no longer a city of sixty thousand inhabitants, but a
vast frontier post and pay station of the army. And such a pay station!
Each day the expenditures of the Government were more than two millions.
The air was electric with the mad lust for gain which the scent of
millions excites in the nostrils of the wolves who prey on their fellow
men. The streets swarmed with these hungry beasts, male and female. They
pushed and crowded and jostled each other from the sidewalks. The roar
of their whiskey-laden voices poured forth from every bar-room and
gambling den on the Avenue.
A fat contractor who had made his pile in pasteboard soles for army
shoes and sent more boys to the grave from disease than had been killed
in battle, touched elbows with the hook-nosed vulture who was sporting a
diamond pin bought with the profits of shoddy clothes that had proven a
shroud for many a brave soldier sleeping in a premature grave.
They were laughing, drinking, smoking, swearing, gambling and all
shouting for the flag--the flag that was waving over millions they hoped
yet to share.
A feeling of sickening fear swept the girl's heart. For the first time
in her life she was afraid to be alone on the brightly lighted streets
of Washington at dusk. The poison of death was in the air. Every
desperate passion that stirs the brute in man was written in the
bloodshot eyes that sought hers. The Nation was at war. To cheat,
deceive, entrap, maim, kill the enemy and lay his home in desolation was
the daily business now of the millions who backed the Government.
Whatever the lofty aims of either of the contending hosts, they sought
to win by war and this was war. It was not to be wondered at that this
spirit should begin to poison the springs of life in the minds of the
weak and send them forth to prey on their fellows. It was not to be
wondered at that men planned in secret to advance their own interests at
the expense of their fellows, to climb the ladder of wealth and fame in
this black hour no matter on whose dead bodies they had to walk.
With a pang of positive terror Betty asked herself the question whether
the man she loved had been touched by this deadly pestilence? A wave of
horror swept her. A drunken brute brushed by and thrust his bloated face
into hers.
With a cry of rage and fear she turned and ran for two blocks, left the
Avenue at the corner and hurried back to her home.
She would wait until morning and see the President before the crowd
arrived.
He greeted her with a joyous shout:
"Come right in, Miss Betty!"
With long, quick stride he met her and grasped her hand, a kindly
twinkle in his eye:
"And how's our old grizzly bear, your father, this morning?"
"He's still alive and growling," she laughed.
The President joined heartily:
"I'll bet he is," he said, "and hates me just as cordially as ever?"
Betty nodded.
"But his beautiful daughter?"
"Was never more loyal to her Chief!"
"Good. Then my administration is on a sound basis. You want no office.
You ask no favors. Such clear, pure, young eyes in the morning of life
don't make mistakes. They know."
"But I've come to ask you something this morning----"
The smile faded into a look of seriousness.
"What's the matter?" he asked quickly.
Betty hesitated and the red blood slowly mounted to her cheeks. He led
her to a seat, beside his chair, touched her hand gently and whispered:
"Tell me."
"I hope you won't think me presumptuous, Mr. President, if I ask you to
tell me why you recalled General McClellan?"
The rugged face suddenly flashed with a smile.
"Presumptuous?" he laughed. "My dear child, if you could have heard a
few things my Cabinet had to say to me in this room on that subject! The
tender deference with which you put the question is the nearest thing to
an endorsement I have so far received! Go as far as you like after that
opening. It will be a joy to discuss it with you. Presumptuous--Oh, my
soul!"
He caught his knee between his hands and rocked with laughter at the
memory of his Cabinet scene.
Reassured by his manner Betty leaned closer:
"You remember the morning you gave me the pass to Alexandria?"
"To see a certain young man?"
"Yes."
"Perfectly."
"You distinctly gave me the impression that morning that you were sure
General McClellan was betraying his trust in his failure to support
General Pope and that your confidence in him was gone forever."
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"Then it wasn't far from the truth," he gravely admitted.
"And yet you recalled him to the command of the army?"
"I had to."
"Had to?"
"It was the only thing to do."
Betty spoke in a whisper:
"You mean that their conspiracy had become so dangerous there was no
other way?"
He threw her a searching look, was silent a moment and slowly said:
"That's a pointed question, isn't it?"
"I'm a member of your Cabinet, you know----"
"Yes, I know--but why do _you_ happen to ask me such a dangerous
question at this particularly trying moment? Come, my little bright
eyes, out with it?"
"The certain young man and I are not very happy----"
"You've quarrelled?"
"Yes."
"About what?"
"You."
"You don't mean it, Miss Betty?" he said incredulously.
Her eyes were dim and she nodded.
"But why about me?"
"I saw things which confirmed your suspicions. He admitted his desire
that General Pope should fail and defended McClellan's indifference. We
quarrelled. I asked him to resign from the staff of his Chief----"
"You didn't!" he exclaimed softly, his deep eyes shining.
"I did--and he refused."
Again the big hands both closed on hers:
"God bless you, child! So long as I hold such faith from hearts like
yours, I know that I'm right. They can say what they please about
me----"
"You see," she broke in, "if he is in this conspiracy and they have
forced you to this surrender, he is equally guilty of treachery----"
"And you hold him responsible for his Commander's ambitions?"
"Yes."
The President sprang to his feet and paced the floor a moment, stopped
and gazed at her with a look of curious tenderness:
"By jinks, Miss Betty, if I had a few more like you in my Cabinet I
wouldn't be so lonesome!"
"They did force you?" she demanded.
"Not as you mean it, my child. I'm not going to pretend to you that I
don't understand the seriousness of the situation. The Army of the
Potomac is behind McClellan to a man. It amounts to infatuation. I
sounded his officers. I sounded his men. To-day they are against me and
with him. If the issue could be sprung--if the leaders dared to risk
their necks on such a revolution, they might win. They don't know this
as clearly as I do. Because they are not so well informed they are
afraid to move. I have chosen to beat them at their own game----"
He paused and laughed:
"I hate to shatter your ideal, Miss Betty, but I'm afraid there's
something of the fox in my make-up after all. Will it shock you to learn
this?"
"I shall be greatly relieved to know it," she responded firmly.
"Think, then, for a moment. I suspend McClellan for his failure and
replace him with a man I believe to be his superior. The army sullenly
resent this change. They do not agree with me. They believe McClellan
the greatest General in sight. It's a marvellous thing this power over
men which he possesses. It can be used to create a Nation or destroy
one. It's a dangerous force. I must handle it with the utmost care. So
long as their idol is a martyr the army is unfit for good service. The
moment I restore the old commander, in whom both officers and men have
unbounded faith, I show them that I am beyond the influence of the
political forces which demand his destruction--don't I?"
"Yes."
"And the moment I dare to brave popular disapproval and restore their
commander don't you see that I win the confidence of the army in my
fairness and my disinterested patriotism?"
"Of course."
"See then what must happen. Now mind you, I would never have restored
McClellan to command if I did not know that at this moment he can do the
work of putting this disorganized and defeated army into fighting shape
better than any other. McClellan thus returned to power must fight. He
must win or lose. If he wins I am vindicated and his success is mine. If
he loses, he loses his power over the imagination of his men and at last
I am master of the situation. I shall back him with every dollar and
every man the Nation can send into his next campaign. No matter whether
he wins or loses, I _must_ win because the supremacy of the civil power
will be restored."
"I see," Betty breathed softly.
She rose with a new look of reverence for a great mind.
"And the civil power was not supreme when you restored McClellan to his
command?"
"Miss Betty, you'd make a good lawyer!" he laughed.
"Was it?" she persisted.
"No."
"Thank you," she said, rising and extending her hand. "I learned exactly
what I wished to know."
"And you'll stop quarreling?"
"If he's reasonable----"
He lifted his long finger in solemn warning.
"Remember now! This administration is honestly and sincerely backing
General McClellan for all it's worth. It has always done this. We are
going to try to make even a better record in the next campaign----"
"When will it open?"
"Sooner than any of us wish it, if our scouts report the truth. Flushed
with his great victory over Pope, General Lee is sure to invade
Maryland. The campaign will be a dangerous and crucial one. The moment
Lee crosses the Potomac, his communications with Richmond will be
imperiled. If he dares to do it we can crush his army in a great battle,
cut his communications with Richmond, drive his men into the Potomac and
end the war. I have given McClellan the opportunity of his life. I pray
God to give success----"
Edward appeared at the door.
"Well, what is it?"
"The crowd, sir--they are clamoring to get in."
Betty hurried into the family apartments to speak to Mrs. Lincoln, her
mind in a whirl of resentment against John Vaughan.
The President turned to the crowd which had already poured into the
room.
As usual, the cranks and inventors led the way. The inventors found the
President an easy man to talk to. His mind was quick to see a good point
and always open to conviction. He had once patented a device for getting
flat boats over shoals himself. His immediate approval of the first
model of Ericsson's famous _Monitor_ had led to its adoption in time to
meet and destroy the _Merrimac_ in Hampton Roads on the very day the
iron terror had sent his big ships to the bottom. He allowed no inventor
to be turned from the door of the White House no matter how ridiculous
his hobby might appear. The inventions relating to the science of war he
would test himself on the big open field between the White House grounds
and the river.
The first inventor in line carried the model of a new rifle which would
shoot sixteen times. The army officers believed in the idea of a single
shell breech loader on account of the simplicity of its mechanism. Our
muskets were still muzzle loaders and the men were compelled to use
ramrods to load.
The President examined the new gun with keen interest, pulled his black,
shaggy beard thoughtfully, looked at the breathless inventor, and slowly
mused:
"Well, now as the fat girl said when she pulled on her stocking, it
strikes me there's something in it!"
The inventor laughed with nervous joy, and watched him write a card of
endorsement:
"Take that to the War Department, and tell them I like your idea--I want
them to look into it."
His face wreathed in smiles, the man pushed his way through the crowd,
and hurried to the War Department.
The next one was a little fellow who had a gun of marvellous model,
double-barrelled, with the barrels crossed. The President adjusted his
spectacles and took a second look before he made any comment. He lifted
his bristling eyebrows:
"What's it for?"
"For cross-eyed men, sir!" he whispered.
"You don't say?" he roared.
"Yes, sir," the little man continued eagerly. "The cross-eyed men ain't
never had no chance in this war. They turn 'em all down. They won't take
'em as soldiers. That gun'll fix 'em. Push a regiment o' good cross-eyed
men to the front with that gun a-pourin' hot lead from two barrels at
the same time an' every man er cross firin' at the enemy an' we'll jist
natchally make hash outen 'em, sir----"
"And we may need the cross-eyed men, too, before the war ends." The
sombre eyes twinkled thoughtfully. "Thank you, my friend, when I draft
the cross-eyed men come in again and we'll talk it over. Your heart's
in the right place, anyhow."
He glanced doubtfully at the little skillet-shaped head and reached over
his shoulder for the next one. It was a bullet proof shirt for
soldiers--a coat of mail which weighed fifty pounds.
"How long do you think a man could march with that thing on and the
thermometer at ninety-eight in the shade?"
He handed it back with a shake of his head and grasped the next one--a
model water-tight canoe to fit the foot like a snow shoe.
"What's the idea?" he asked.
"Shoe the army with _my_ canoes, sir, and they can all walk on
water----"
"And yet they say the age of miracles has passed! Take it over to old
Neptune's office. He's a sad man at times and I like him. This ought to
cheer him."
The next one was a man of unusually interesting face. A typical Yankee
farmer with whiskers spilling over his collar from his neck and
bristling up against his clean shaven chin. He handed the President a
model of a new musket. He examined it with care and fixed the man with
his gaze:
"Well, sir?"
"Hit's the rekyle, sir," he explained softly. "Hit's the way she's hung
on the stock."
"Oh----"
"Ye see, sir," he went on earnestly, "a gun ought not to rekyle, and ef
hit rekyles at all, hit ought to rekyle a leetle forred----"
"Right you are!" the President roared with laughter. "Your logic's sound
whether your gun kicks or not. I say so, too. A gun ought _not_ to
rekyle at all, and if it does rekyle, by jinks, it ought to rekyle and
hit the other fellow, not us!"
The tall figure dropped into the chair by his desk and laughed again.
"Come in again, Brother 'Rekyle' and we'll talk it over when I've got
more time."
The stocky, heavy set figure of the Secretary of War suddenly pushed
through the crowd and up to the desk. Stanton's manner had always been
rude to the point of brusqueness and insult. The tremendous power he was
now wielding in the most important Department of the Government had not
softened his temper or improved his manners. The President had learned
to appreciate his matchless industry and sterling honesty and overlooked
his faults as an indulgent father those of a passionate and willful
child.
Stanton's eyes were flashing through his gold rimmed glasses the wrath
he found difficult to express.
The President looked up with a friendly smile:
"Well, Mars, what's the trouble now?"
Stanton shook his leonine locks and beard in fury at the use of the
facetious word. He loathed levity of any kind and the one kind he could
not endure was the quip that came his way.
He regarded himself seriously every day, every hour, every minute in
every hour. He was the incarnate soul of Mars on earth. He knew and felt
it. He raged at the President's use of the term because he had a
sneaking idea that he was being laughed at--and that by a man who was
his inferior and yet to whom he was rendering indispensable service.
An angry retort rose to his lips, but he suppressed the impulse. It was
a waste of breath. The President was a fool--he would only laugh again
as he had done before. And so he plunged straight to the purpose of his
call:
"Before you get to your usual batch of passes and pardons this morning I
want to protest again, Mr. President, against your persistent
interference with the discipline of the army and the affairs of my
Department. Your pardons are hamstringing the whole service, sir. It
must stop if you expect your generals to control their men!"
"Is that all, Mars?" the even voice asked.
"It is, sir!"
"Thanks for the spirit that prompts your rage. I know you're right about
most of these things. I'll do my best to help and not hinder you----"
"There's a woman coming here this morning to present a petition over my
head."
"Oh, I see----"
"I have refused it and I demand that you support, not make a fool of
me."
He turned without waiting for an answer and strode from the room.
The President whispered to Nicolay:
"We may have to put a few bricks in Stanton's pocket yet, John!"
He glanced toward the waiting crowd and whispered again:
"Any news to-day from the front before I go on?"
Nicolay drew a telegram from his file:
"Only this dispatch, sir, announcing the capture of fifty mules and two
brigadier generals by Stuart's cavalry----"
"Fifty mules?"
"And two brigadier generals."
"Fifty mules--and they're worth two hundred dollars a piece. Tell 'em to
send a regiment after those mules. Jeffy D. can have the generals."
A slender little dark-haired girl about fifteen years old, with big
wistful blue eyes, had taken advantage of the pause to slip close. When
the President lifted his head she caught his eyes. He rose immediately
and drew her to his side.
"You're all alone, little girl?"
"Yes, sir," she faltered.
"And what can I do for you?"
"If you please, I want to pass through the lines to Virginia--my
brother's there--he was shot in the last battle. I want to see him."
"Of course you do," the kindly voice agreed, "and you shall."
He wrote the pass and handed it to her.
She murmured her thanks and he placed his big hand on her dark head and
asked casually:
"Of course you're loyal?"
The young lips quivered, she hesitated, looked up into his face through
dimmed eyes, and the slender body suddenly stiffened, as she slowly
said:
"Yes--to the heart's core--to Virginia!"
The trembling fingers handed the pass back and the tears rolled down her
cheeks.
The tall man dared not look down again. Something about this slim
wistful girl brought back over the years the memory of the young mother
who had come from the hills of old Virginia.
He was still for a moment, stooped, and took her hand in his. His voice
was low and tender and full of feeling:
"I know what it cost you to say that, child. You're a brave, glorious
little girl, if you are a rebel. I love you for this glimpse you've
given me of a great spirit. I'm sure I can trust you. If I let you go,
will you promise me faithfully that no word shall pass your lips of what
you've seen inside our lines?"
"I promise!" she cried, smiling through her tears.
He handed her back the pass and slowly said:
"May God bless you--and speed the day when your people and mine shall be
no longer enemies."
He turned again to his desk, and beside it stood a quiet woman dressed
in black.
He bowed to her with easy grace:
"And how can I serve you, Madam?"
She smiled hopefully:
"You have children, Mr. President?"
A look of sorrow overspread the dark face.
"Yes," he said reverently, "I have two boys now. I had three, but God
has just taken one of them."
"I had two," the mother responded. "Both of them went into the army to
fight for their country and left me alone. One has been killed in
battle. I tried to be brave about it. I said over and over again, 'the
Lord gave and the Lord has taken away, blessed is the name of the Lord!'
But I had to give up. I'm all alone in my little place in the mountains
of Pennsylvania and I can't endure it. I know they say I have no right
to ask, but I want my last boy to come home. All night I lie there alone
and cry. Can't you let me have my boy back? He's all I've got on
earth--others have more. I have only this one. I'm just a
woman--lonely, heartsick and afraid. They say I can't have him. But I've
come to ask you. I've heard that you have a loving heart----"
She stopped suddenly.
"You have seen Stanton?" the President asked.
"Yes. He wouldn't listen. He swore I shouldn't have him."
The hazel-grey eyes gazed thoughtfully out the window across the shining
river for a moment.
"I have two," he murmured, "and you have only one. It isn't fair. You
shall have your boy."
He turned to his desk and wrote the order for his discharge. The mother
pressed close, gently touched with the tips of her fingers his thick
black hair and softly cried while he was writing.
She took the precious paper, tried to speak and choked.
"Go away now," the President whispered, "or you'll have me crying in a
minute."
When the last man had gone he stood alone before his window in brooding
silence. A tender smile overspread his face and he drew a deep breath.
In the hills of Pennsylvania he saw a picture--a mother in the door of a
humble home waiting for her boy. He is coming down the road with swift,
strong step. She sees and rushes to meet him with a cry of joy, holds
him in her arms without words a long, long while and will not let him
go. And then she leads him into the house, falls on her knees and thanks
God.
He smiles again and forgets the burden of the day.