“Stack hay and don’t argue. Archie, take off your jacket, you’ve got the back of your shirt full of hay.” “It’s inside mine too,” said Kermit. “It scratches.” “If we had been real Indians we wouldn’t have on shirts, we’d just have some stripes of war paint.” Ted began busily piling up the hay. “That game wasn’t fair anyway because Archie giggled and Alice forgot to shoot quick.” “He fell on me.” She stood up. “Oh me! There’s Mame, scared to death to climb the ladder. Father, don’t make us go in yet.” Mame’s head, wrapped in a crocheted wool scarf, showed halfway up the ladder. “Gentlemen to see the Colonel,” she announced, “Mrs. Roosevelt says it’s important.” “Don’t go, Father,” pleaded Ted. “Tell Mother to send them away.” “I can’t do that, Ted, because from now on I’m the servant of the people of New York. Ask them to wait by the fire, Mame, tell them I’ll be in presently.” Roosevelt shook the hay from his shirt and jacket and studied the disappointed faces of his children. All the faces were definitely grimy but each one reflected woe. “Go ahead,” Roosevelt directed when Mame had backed gingerly down the ladder. “Oldest jump first. See how high you can land on the hay. We can jump for ten minutes.” He took out his watch. Fifteen minutes later he led his bedraggled, breathless crew back to the house, entering through the rear door though usually he was most unconcerned about his own appearance, especially when the children were with him. But now, with his new responsibilities, he was beginning to be aware that he owed a certain distinction of attire to these people who had elected him to the most important office in the most important state. Also he was thinking uneasily of Edith’s carefully disciplined but inwardly disapproving attitude. Mame met them in the hall, her own disapproval not masked at all. “I declare, you always seem to bring them back looking like ragamuffins, Colonel Roosevelt! Hurry up, all of you! Colonel, you’ve got a dirty face yourself. Your guests are in the library. Mrs. Roosevelt had me serve them some wine.” As he hurried up the stairs Roosevelt was hoping that this waiting group would not be church dignitaries or any others who would resent being served wine. Edith was in their room changing for dinner after tending Quentin all afternoon. She looked at him and shook her head. “Well, at least you did come up to change.” She sounded relieved. “I don’t know who they are. Mame let them in. After tending the baby all afternoon I wasn’t presentable myself. The nurse will be back at nine o’clock, thank goodness. I let her go home for Christmas. Hurry and change. They’ve already been there half an hour, with a horse waiting out there in the cold.” Through the window they could see a handsome bay horse and smart carriage waiting outside, the horse well blanketed and secured by an iron weight.