“
Tad squeezed through the line of visitors in the White House corridor. He looked them over. Most were wounded soldiers, job seekers, and widows who had lost husbands in the Civil War. For a few hours every afternoon, Tad’s father, Abraham Lincoln, the president of the United States, would do his best to meet with them.
Tad dashed to the staircase, blocking the path of a young woman with a baby.
“Halt!” Tad ordered in his deepest voice. “Five cents to pass. The proceeds help wounded soldiers in the Union army.”
The woman burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” Tad asked, startled.
“Recently I was very ill,” she explained, wiping her eyes. “My husband left his army post to come visit me. He went back, but they arrested him for desertion anyway.” Her lips trembled. “He’s to be shot tomorrow.”
Tad winced. “Oh, that’s dreadful sad, ma’am.”
“I pray the president will pardon him.”
“Oh, he will,” Tad said, his face brightening. “Pa’s a good man.”
“There are so many people ahead of me,” the woman said anxiously. “I’m afraid I’ll be too late.”
Suddenly there was a commotion on the stairway above. Tad looked around and noticed one of the president’s aides, his mouth tightly drawn, coming down toward him. “Your father wishes to see you,” the man said. “Immediately.”
Tad turned back to the woman. “What’s your name, ma’am?” he asked.
“Elizabeth Miller.”
Tad nodded and hurried up the stairs. As he rounded a corner he glanced over his shoulder. The hall was empty. By his father’s office, the table with the visitors’ calling cards stood unguarded. Tad quickly found Mrs. Miller’s and placed it at the top of the pile.
”
”