On the other hand, he had enjoyed the presence in the White House of his daughter, Mrs. McKee, with her two children, one of whom, a bright little boy named in his honor, was his special favorite and playfellow out of office hours. The south garden was the scene of many of their frolics, which recalled the legends about John Adams and his juvenile tyrant. One incident will never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. “Baby McKee,” as Benjamin junior was commonly called, used to drive a goat before his little wagon. This amusement was confined, as a rule, to occasions when the President could be near at hand to watch proceedings, for the goat was an erratic brute. One day it caught the President napping and started at full gallop for an open gate. Mr. Harrison, suddenly awakened to the situation, dashed after. The goat succeeded in pulling the wagon through the narrow aperture without a collision, but, once in the street, bolted straight for a trench in which workmen were laying a pipe. By a succession of mighty leaps, such as probably no dignitary of his rank had ever made before, Mr. Harrison contrived to get in front of the animal, seize it by the bit, and swing it around in the nick of time to prevent its jumping the excavation and tumbling wagon and boy into the mud at the bottom. The President was puffing hard as he returned triumphantly to the White House, dragging the reluctant goat by the headstall, under a running fire of complaints from his grandson for spoiling the morning ride. When Mr. and Mrs. Cleveland came back in 1893, they brought with them their infant daughter Ruth, and open gates in the south garden of the White House became at once a thing of the past; for the garden was the child’s only playground, and an epidemic of kidnapping had recently broken out. For further security, and in order to have one place where his domestic hours would be free from business interruptions, the President rented the small estate known as Woodley, in one of the northwestern suburbs. Here he lived during the greater part of the year, driving in daily to his work and spending a night in Washington now and then if necessary. By that time the official encroachments on the family space of the White House had reached a point where either the building must be enlarged or a separate dwelling provided for the President. A scheme of enlargement had been broached in Harrison’s term, but the plans drawn under Mrs. Harrison’s direction changed the shape of the old mansion in too many essential features to win the approval of the architects consulted, and the matter was dropped. The Clevelands, by living at Woodley, escaped some of the cramping the Harrisons had suffered, and the McKinleys, who came in next, got along pretty well because they had no children.