WHEN TRAGEDY GRINS
"As usual, Tad, it is your stomach that is cutting up. Haven't you any
other organ in your body?"
Tad Lincoln pulled the bedclothes up about his shoulders, and smiled
sheepishly at Doctor Boyd. "It was the cream puffs," he murmured
apologetically.
"And two weeks ago--candy. You are incorrigible. What's this?" The
doctor picked an oblong slip of paper off the pillow. It was a check,
and read:
"Pay to the order of Tad Lincoln 50c--Fifty Cents--for having his
tooth pulled.
"A. LINCOLN."[1]
[1] A true story.
"Did it hurt when it came out?" asked Boyd gravely. For reply, the boy
opened his mouth, and disclosed a vacancy in the shining ivories.
"Well, don't eat this money up. One attack of indigestion should be
enough this month." Tad's face fell; he had already planned how he
would spend that fifty cents.
"Is anything much the matter with Tad, Doctor?" inquired the President,
entering the bedroom. "Sit down," as Boyd rose. "I stole up from the
levee to ask you how he is."
"Just a slight attack of indigestion, due to over-eating, Mr.
President. He will be all right to-morrow."
"Poor Tad." Lincoln stroked the small, hot head. "It is my fault,
Doctor. Mrs. Lincoln was out; so he and I just browsed 'round for
dinner. I ate most of the meat, and he the cream puffs. It wasn't an
equal division, was it, Tad? Must you be going, Doctor?"
"Yes; if one of these green tablets dissolved in half a glass of water
is given every three hours the nausea will cease. By the way, Mr.
President, before I leave, I want to ask if you will give me a pass
through our lines to Richmond. I have received word that my brother
lies dangerously wounded in one of their hospitals. We have not met for
years, and I"--the doctor cleared his throat--"I would like to see him
once again before we are parted for aye."
"Certainly!" Lincoln strode over to Tad's table and wrote a few lines;
then tore off the top sheet from the latter's school pad. "I hope this
will help you. I've given passes to Richmond to my generals, but they
haven't got there yet."
Lincoln's careworn face lighted with his rare smile. The strain of hope
deferred was telling on the President, and Doctor Boyd scrutinized him
professionally for a moment.
"I've seen you look worse," he growled, "but what I don't understand is
how you keep so damned good-natured."
Lincoln laughed heartily. "That is the question I once asked the wife
of one of our backwoodsmen. He would abuse her in public, and she
always took it smilingly, so I asked her how she managed it: 'When Jim
gets too much for me, I just goes in and bites the bureau. I know I'm
doing more harm than he is, and it keeps me good-natured.' My 'bureau'
is pretty well scarred by now," added Lincoln, chuckling. "I don't wish
to detain you, Doctor, but Mrs. Lincoln wants to see you a moment in
the East Room if you can stop there on your way out. Now, Tad, be a
good boy, and obey the nurse."
"And don't eat too much," cautioned Doctor Boyd, as he followed the
President out of the room.
The East Room was crowded with the usual throngs that gathered every
Thursday night. After reassuring Mrs. Lincoln as to her son's
condition, Doctor Boyd stationed himself behind the President and
watched the animated scene with interest, for once forgetful of his
duties elsewhere. Men and women in every walk of life were present.
Generals rubbed elbows with privates; statesmen with day laborers;
well-dressed women stood next women in faded and patched attire. All
were greeted by a cordial handshake and a pleasant word as they filed
past Lincoln. The doctor smiled sardonically as he saw the circle of
admirers about pretty Mrs. Bennett. Was it possible that her blue eyes,
childlike in their candor, her simpering smile, and affected manner
were masks assumed to cover her machinations? She a Union spy? It
seemed incredible. If so, was she clever enough to injure Nancy? Moving
with the crowd, she gradually worked her way to where Boyd stood.
"You never find time to come to my house, Doctor," she pouted.
"Send for me professionally," retorted Boyd, "and I will come at once."
"I captured Doctor Boyd this evening," interposed the President,
turning toward them. "He does not usually honor my levees."
"A busy man has small opportunity," began Boyd hastily.
"I know, Doctor; I know." The President laid a kindly hand on his arm.
"Isn't that Mrs. Arnold over there?"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Bennett. "We came together, for Mrs. Arnold is
obliged to go out alone, as her husband is too busy acquiring wealth to
accompany her to entertainments."
"I cannot understand why a man should work so hard for _that_," said
the President thoughtfully. "Wealth is simply a superfluity of what we
don't need."
"Who is that good-looking officer talking to my husband and Mrs.
Arnold?" questioned Mrs. Bennett.
"Brevet-Colonel Hilton," Lincoln smiled mischievously. "He is one of my
bravest officers, having behaved with conspicuous gallantry at
Gettysburg and Cedar Creek. But the night of the first Bull Run, his
body servant was asked by his family, who are Washingtonians, if he had
seen his master during the battle. 'Deed I done seed him at de end ob
de fight, and Marse Sam was on de mos' _retreatenist_ hoss in de
army.'"
"Thank God, we do not have to live over those first days of the war,"
said Boyd devoutly. "They tried men's souls."
"Ah, I do thank God," the President sighed wearily. His surroundings
faded from view. Instead, he saw the awful carnage of a battlefield. In
his ears sounded the thunder of guns; the cheers of the victors; and
the moans of the dying. With an effort, he put such thoughts from him.
"And yet those days had their comic side, Doctor; even tragedy grins
occasionally. I recollect that a regiment, who wore the uniform of
Highlanders, reached here after the battle of Bull Run utterly
demoralized. Like thousands of other soldiers, they threw away pretty
much everything they had. Their costume was abbreviated in the
beginning, and after Bull Run," the President's eyes twinkled, "lots of
them had to borrow skirts and blankets to cover their bareness. One of
these men gravely told me that the rebels in the trenches were perched
on teter-boards, and when one end came up to fire, the other end went
down to load. Good evening, Mrs. Arnold." He turned to shake hands with
her and Colonel Bennett.
"Why, Doctor Boyd," exclaimed Mrs. Arnold; "you here! I hope it means
that you are giving up night work, and so can come to our house-warming
on Monday night."
"As much as I should like to, I am afraid I cannot," rejoined Boyd. "I
expect to be called out of town at any time, but"--as her face
fell--"if I am in the city I will surely go to you."
"It is a shame if you do have to go away just then," declared Mrs.
Arnold, "because my husband counted on you to help him through the
evening, as he detests social gatherings."
"Ah, there comes that charming Monsieur Mercier," chimed in Mrs.
Bennett, as the French Minister strove to make his way through the
crowded room.
"Mercier has never recovered from his disappointment at his failure to
induce his government to recognize the Confederacy,"[2] laughed Colonel
Bennett. "It hurt his _amour propre_."
[2] See "Abraham Lincoln," by Nicholay and Hay.
"Men are not flattered by being shown that there has been a difference
of purpose between the Almighty and them," was Lincoln's noncommittal
reply. He turned to cross the room, but Mrs. Arnold, who had been an
interested listener, detained him for a moment.
"Do you speak French, Mr. President?" she inquired.
There was a quizzical gleam in Lincoln's eyes as he replied slowly and
with emphasis: "No, Mrs. Arnold; only English, and that not very well,"
and he moved on up the room.
Disconcerted by the expression on Doctor Boyd's face, Mrs. Arnold asked
hastily, "How is poor Major Goddard? I hear he is under your care now."
"He is badly shaken up physically," returned Boyd.
"Is there no prospect of his regaining his sight, Doctor?" inquired
Mrs. Bennett.
"Only time can tell."
"It is too dreadful," commented Mrs. Bennett. "I like Major Goddard so
much, and to think of his being helpless the rest of his life is most
distressing. Will you let him receive company, Doctor? Because I would
like to go and read to him."
Boyd scanned Mrs. Bennett intently, without replying to her last
remark. Why this sudden interest in Goddard? It behooved him to find
out.
"And I want to send him some jellies," volunteered Mrs. Arnold. "What
is his address, Doctor?"
"At present he is occupying Captain Lloyd's rooms at Mrs. Lane's
boarding house on F Street across from the Ebbitt." Boyd hesitated for
a perceptible moment. Would it be wise to allow Mrs. Bennett to
interview Goddard? Would she be able to worm any information about
Nancy's adventures in Winchester from the Major?
"Perhaps Captain Lloyd would not like our calling," suggested Mrs.
Arnold, breaking the slight pause.
"Oh, Lloyd is not in town now, though Goddard expects him back some
time next week."
"Did Major Goddard make the trip from Winchester alone?" asked Mrs.
Bennett in surprise.
"No. Miss Newton and her niece looked after him, with the assistance of
a man they called 'Symonds.' I met them at the station, and took
Goddard to his rooms, and engaged an attendant for him, as he cannot
get about without a body-servant now."
"From last accounts, Nancy Newton has behaved abominably to John,"
began Mrs. Arnold angrily. "She is a miserable flirt...."
"You mustn't run down my friend Nancy," said Lincoln, who had returned
in time to hear the last remark. "She and Tad are great chums; he is
devoted to her."
"I was only going to say," stammered Mrs. Arnold, "that Nancy has
treated my nephew very shabbily; first encouraged his suit, then threw
him over in the most bare-faced manner for--Major Goddard."