He frowned, then his face lightened and his mouth quirked up at one corner in a halfway impish grin. “So young Andrew has been hearing rumblings in Kentucky.” Always he had refused to call his nephew by the family nickname of Jack. “Why didn’t he write to me? Kentucky is the fighting ground of our friend Henry Clay. If there are any honors to be handed out, the Speaker of the House would like them for himself, no doubt? I will tell you this much, Emily, and you will keep it to yourself. In spite of all I can do, I have friends determined to push me into the forefront again. Now, they are talking about running me for the highest office in this land.” “But that would be a great honor, uncle Jackson. Why must we keep it a secret?” “I don’t want to spoil her Christmas. Some women would be elated at a chance to spend a winter in Washington, move in important circles, perhaps be elevated to the highest position in this land. But not your aunt Rachel. I want to talk her into the right mood, or she might refuse to leave here and then I’d be separated from her again for a long time.” “But she must go! I won’t let her refuse,” argued Emily. “We’ll buy her some beautiful clothes. She can be a fine lady.” “She’s already a fine lady,” he sighed, “but she’d rather go on here dosing the bellyache of the most worthless hand I own than to be invited to dinner in the proudest house in the country. I love her for her simplicity, and I want her to enjoy peace as long as she can, so say nothing about any plans, Emily.” “Yes, uncle Jackson, but you could be wrong about aunt Rachel. The thing she wants more than anything is to be with you.” “And what I most desire is to be with her. I am singularly blessed. It troubles me now that I grow old that the people will not let me rest.” “You could say no. You could refuse when they thrust these responsibilities upon you,” she reminded him, grave beyond her years. He lifted his gaunt shoulders in a ponderous sigh. “This is a great country, Emily, my child. Where else could a gangling, country boy with no fortune and little education fight his way up to where he is honored as I have been honored by my countrymen? I owe America a debt. Speaking of debts,” his mood changed, his face grew into a sardonic grimace, “the question is—where is the money coming from to pay for all this pride and eminence? It costs like the devil to live in Washington and the crops this year were disappointing. As things stand now I owe about twice as much as I’m worth. Of course there are a lot of people who owe me—” “Then make them pay,” she counseled. “And you should never have spent so much money for this locket, uncle Jackson. I love you without gifts.” “When I can’t buy a present for a pretty girl, I’ll let them cart me off to a debtor’s prison!” he declared. “As for asking my friends to repay money I’ve loaned them, that’s something a gentleman can’t do, Emily.”