“If you’ll promise to come down immediately and not mar the mantelpiece. And Ted must have some ointment on his chest and a dose of cough medicine. I’ll come up with you, Ted, and see that you are well rubbed. You don’t want to spend Christmas in bed.” “Mother, do I have to? I hate that slimy stuff.” “You have to and you have to hold still and not squirm and yell,” insisted his mother. “Come along now, all of you. I want you all in bed and warmly covered before the fires go out.” “You mean Father isn’t going to tell us even one story?” wailed Kermit, stumbling up the stairs. “No stories tonight, Kermit.” His father gave him a gentle slap on the rear as he followed him. “Orders from the queen. We must all rest tonight for tomorrow is a big day.” The doorbell pealed then and over the upper railing they saw the maid admitting some visitors. “Three gentlemen to see Colonel Roosevelt,” she announced, hurrying halfway up the flight. “They’re in the parlor.” “Let them wait,” said Roosevelt impatiently. “Some delegation of office seekers, no doubt, or somebody wanting a favor of the governor.” “But you aren’t the governor yet,” Ethel argued. “You’re only Father.” “My favorite appointment and nothing would please me more than to work full time at it. Get along, boys, I can’t keep those people waiting too long.” “You do,” reminded Ted. “That time when we were all playing circus in the barn you kept some men waiting a long time while you were trying to teach Kermit’s pony to kneel.” “Then Father was not governor of New York,” his mother told him. “Now he has a responsibility to the people of this state.” “Thank you, my dear,” said her husband. “Kiss me good night, all you youngsters. I’d better see what those people want. After all, this is Christmas Eve and a cold night. Likely they want to get home to their families.” The three men waiting below had a mission they considered important and praiseworthy. They wanted Colonel Roosevelt when he took office as governor to do something about getting better roads for the county. “They’re a bog in winter and a fog of dust in summer. They’re a hardship to the folks who live here and they discourage summer people. Every time some people pay their taxes they harangue us about the bad roads.” “But, gentlemen,” Roosevelt protested, “the county roads are the county’s affair, except for a few miles of state and post roads. Your county officials are the people for you to see about this matter.” “The county officials, Colonel, are us three and there’s nobody for us to appeal to. We’re the ones who are getting all the knocks and got no answer unless we raise taxes, and Lord, what a howl there would be about that! Trouble is, people want a lot of things till it comes time to pay for them and then they want somebody else to take on the load.”