"Elise might have come, papa. She has written to me quite regularly—but she might have come if only for two or three days—so that I could see some of you"—and her mouth quivered into another muffled sob. "No, no, child, she could not leave her mother—you cannot imagine how near your mother has been to collapse—they would not write you for fear that you would worry too much about it—and she is still very weak—nothing seems to benefit her much—the doctor can hardly find the cause of her continued weakness—and perfect rest is the only thing that can help her back to health. So Elise must be there to relieve her from every exertion and effort and be a companion to her, for my visits are necessarily brief. They love you, little girl, as always—though they haven’t been permitted to be with you. Katherine is too young to have come, of course, and she would have been more of a care than a comfort, anyway." "Oh, yes, she’s young, but she would have been _somebody_. The last month has been the _longest_ month, daddy, that I ever lived in all my life—" "Well, well, little girl," the father said soothingly as he smoothed the hair on her temple, "don’t cry any more. The waiting is over now and we won’t be away from you so long again. I could not get away from Washington a day earlier. I have been very busy, you know—doubly busy with the official work and the political campaign too." "Oh, yes, daddy, I want to ask you. Are you going to get the renomination?" There was an excitement in Helen’s question that her father saw was unusual for her, with all her characteristic interest in his political fortunes. "Why child, I—I think so. We’ll know certainly in a very short time now. The convention is in session and they will have the first ballot to-morrow, I think." "But do you really think you will win, daddy? Is there no danger of losing?" "I really think I’ll win, little woman; but you know politics is a most uncertain thing." "Then you do think there is some danger! Oh, daddy, is what I’ve done going to hurt you?" There was distress in her accents. "What _you’ve_ done?" "Yes, daddy. It never occurred to me till yesterday. I’ve seen very little of the papers since we’ve been up here, but none of them had ever mentioned such a thing—until last night in the very first one the nurse would let me look at even for a minute it said that ’just how many or just how few votes the President will lose in the convention because of his daughter’s having married a negro it is impossible at this time to forecast. Southern delegations this year are unusually uncertain quantities.’ It said just that, daddy—and oh, I’m so sorry if—"