In the big carriages packed with robes and hot bricks they rode the short distance to the Cove Creek school. The schoolhouse bell, creaking and jangling merrily, was ringing loudly as they came near; they could hear the wheels that turned it squeak and the ropes groan and slap against the sides of the belfry. “Someday,” announced young Ted as he climbed out of the carriage, “that old thing’s going to come crashing down.” “Then the children won’t have to go to school,” said Ethel. Theodore Roosevelt, governor-elect of the State of New York, marched into the little schoolhouse carrying the bowl of goldfish in his arms and followed in a train by his family, to be greeted with loud clapping by the assembled parents. With a bow he presented the fishbowl to the teacher, sweeping off his gray campaign hat as he marched back to a rear seat. Father shouldn’t sit in the back, thought Alice, who was beginning to feel more like a princess every day and felt cheated because they were not more prominently seated. Father ought to be dressed up, too, wearing his silk hat and his beautiful white vest and striped trousers, not that old gray suit and knickers as though he were merely anybody instead of the governor. One by one the children gestured or stammered through their “pieces,” most of which had a very military quality. A young archfoe of Ted’s finished with a tribute to the governor-elect, “We’ll send you to the White House for the gallant deeds you’ve done,” which was tumultuously applauded by all the children and parents. Then the governor-elect, who had hoped to escape by silently sitting in the rear, was called upon to speak. As he strode up to the stage, he was aware of a low whisper from his daughter, “Father, don’t talk long! Think of the poor children.” Roosevelt did not speak of Christmas or the Holy Birth, which had been said a dozen times already. In simple language, talking directly to the young fry, he outlined his philosophy of life, counseled them to decide that they were going to have a good time as long as they lived, and that without being quarrelsome they should stand up for their rights, be honorable and fair to all people. The applause when he had finished shook the building but as he sat down he heard a loud mutter from his oldest son, “Father, we thought you’d never stop talking.” Now came the most exciting moment. From the gay tree, decorated with wreaths of colored paper, with tinsel and strings of popcorn, the presents were distributed. Roosevelt was asked to step forward and as the gifts were handed to him by the teacher he called out each child’s name.