Who was there to stand up against both Peg and the General? I made no breathless battle of it, you may guess. “Major, I've been telling this child,” said the General, laying his thin hand on Peg's curly mop of hair, “how at our receptions she'll light up that great East Room with the bright face of her. We shall require all the beauty we can muster, since the administration is like to go limping in the business of looks. Van Buren and Barry are wifeless; and I'm told Mrs. Ingham is forbiddingly hideous, with the voice of a henhawk. You see, my child,” turning to Peg, “we build on you to save our day from the sin of ugliness.” Peg's eyes danced, and she seemed to bask in prospects naught save sunshine. She was far from that broken one of sobs and sorrows whose hand I held a short half hour before. A great woman is ever a great actress; Peg was proving it now; for with a face all light, her heart was a heart of shadows, and heavy with the forebode of dark days coming down. What a paradox is woman! Here was Peg, brave at once, and fearful--afraid for her husband, while quick with courage for him, finding her peril where she found her strength. “We are living,” remarked Eaton, as he tucked Peg under his arm preparatory to their departure, “we are living on the Georgetown side of the President's Square. General, we won't, while you are in the White House, have a far journey when we visit you. Major, you must call on us.” “Indeed, you must!” echoed Peg. As the two took their leave, and the General, having bowed the little lady to the door, sought his never-failing pipe, Jim reappeared, and with a caution that bordered upon mystery put a penciled note in my hand. It read: “Mr. Noah presents his compliments to the Major; and will the Major do Mr. Noah the honor to meet him immediately in the card room? It is considered advisable by Mr. Noah to say nothing to the General concerning this message.” The note went into my pocket, the General, luckily involved with his pipe, which for some stubbornness concealed within the stem refused to draw, failing to notice. This was as should be, for the General was as inquisitive and prompt with query as a girl. Even now he asked where I was bound. “I've had nothing to eat as yet,” I returned. “That's true; I had forgotten. Come back when you are finished; there's a deal to talk about. I shall need you to help me make up my mind.” “Help you unmake it, you mean,” I replied. There was an exchange of grins. I had exactly stated the case; and, as a grave truth will on occasion, it struck our sense of the ridiculous. It had been my work for years; it would be my work for the eight years yet to come; this unmaking of the General's mind. On my way to the card room I asked Jim, Peggy O'Neal who was close behind, where he got the message.