Lincoln's almost godlike patience, however, had not been worn out.
"It is better," the great man answered, "at this time not to be making a point of etiquette and personal dignity."
The President, however, stopped calling upon the pompous General. After that experience, he always sent word to McClellan to call upon him.
One day, at the close of a family luncheon, the President said to Tom: "Come upstairs with me."
In the little private office, Lincoln took off his coat and waistcoat with a sigh of relief and lounged into his chair. He bade Tom take a chair nearby. Then he looked at the boy for a moment, while his wonderful smile overflowed his strong lips.
"I've been studying you a bit, Tom. I think you'll do. Now I'll tell you what I want you to do."
The smile died quite away.
"Are you sure you can keep still when you ought to keep still? Balaam's ass isn't the only ass that ever talked. Most asses talk—and always at the wrong time."
"The last thing Father told me," Tom answered, "was never to say anything to anybody 'less I was sure you'd want me to say it."