“Looks really important,” said Theodore, as he washed the dust of the loft off his face. “But they could have waited till Christmas was over and given a man a chance for a day in peace with his family.” “Tomorrow it will be worse,” she reminded him. “You’ll have to be excused to sort your papers and I shall have to oversee the packing. We have just four days to get to Albany and I’d hate you to miss your own inauguration ceremony.” “Is this jacket all right? After all, I’m supposed to be informal at home.” “It will do. Straighten your tie. You always seem to get the knot slightly crooked.” “So you will have some reason to notice me, my dear.” He kissed her, grinning like a boy, and hurried down the stairs thinking that his Edith was still the loveliest thing alive and the best thing that had ever happened to one Theodore Roosevelt. The three men rose as he entered the library and introduced themselves, though he already knew their identity having had some dealings with them when he was Police Commissioner of New York City. They were all members of the Board of Authority, a department of the city government, and immediately Roosevelt sensed that their mission was to gain some advantage in advance from the governor-elect. The idea angered him and he made an excuse to mend the fire, poking and banging till he had worked off his momentary attack of spleen. Then he was ready for their proposal which came promptly, voiced in turn by each of the three. Roosevelt said nothing, sitting rubbing the back of his neck as he often did absently when he was trying to keep a cool head, a thing that with his impetuous nature and itch for action was not easy for him to do. Finally, when their bland recital of their purpose in coming here—intruding on a father’s holiday at home—was all stated, the last part in concert, he jumped to his feet, paced across the room and back and braced himself facing them. “Gentlemen, you have asked me to intervene in this matter which primarily affects only the City of New York, and your office, authority and functions in that city. Let me remind you in the first instance that I am not yet governor of New York nor will I be for several days. Secondly, I remind you that interference of this type is no function of the governor, and that your appeal (if it is an appeal) should be lodged with the proper authority to consider it. After that, gentlemen, I bid you good day.” The three men went out grumbling and Theodore stamped up the stairs angrily, to where Edith sat by the fire, rocking Quentin, who had the sniffles, to sleep. “Low, unprincipled scoundrels,” he stormed, “coming out here on Christmas Day to ask a favor of me knowing all the time it would be utterly outside all order and sense for me even to consider it.”