“And tomorrow will be another,” she said, “but this has been a good day. For me at least. When none of the children are ailing with anything,” spoke the mother, “I am content. I hope and pray we don’t have too many visitors to usurp your time tomorrow, as no one else can sort and pack most of your personal papers.”
“Undoubtedly the locusts will descend as they usually do on a new man in office. Favors, always favors, and if they can get in a word before the other fellow they have the urge to speak it. And only one answer I can give them now, no matter how righteous their plea. When that is no longer timely I’ll have to depend on the grace of God to give me wisdom but fortunately there will be other people between me and so much importunity.” He got to his feet looking aghast. “Don’t tell me that’s somebody else! I hear a horse and wheels.”
“It may be Davis. Sometimes he borrows a horse to go to his preaching service. You assured him it was all right.” She folded her work and stood too, listening. “No, they are stopping outside, whoever it may be. I’ll go up now, Theodore. No one wants to see me at this time of night.”
The wheels outside were silent and though it was too dark and lowering to see anything, Theodore heard two persons mounting the front steps, moving very lightly. He went to the front door carrying a lamp with him, and held it high to study the faces of his visitors. One was a gaunt, middle-aged woman in a thin coat, her head tied up in a wool scarf, the other a lank boy about fifteen who clawed off his hat and ducked his head in embarrassment.
“Evening, sir,” said the woman, bobbing stiffly. Her ungloved hands were blue with cold, and her lips were blue and bitten. “I’m Dorsie Witten come from away up in Oneida. I’ve come a long way to see you, sir. Part of the ways by train and the rest with this hired rig. I sold two good cows to fetch the money to come to see you when you got elected governor and I hope you’ll listen patient to a heart-broke mother’s story.”
“Come in! Come in out of the cold.” Theodore held the door wide, the raw wind flaring the lamp. When they were inside he said, “Any woman who has come so far deserves to be heard though I can’t promise I can do anything for you. I’m not even governor of New York yet, you know.”
“Well, you will be, sir. Clint here said I should wait till you come to Albany that wasn’t so fur for us to travel, but I said there’d be so many bigwigs crowding in to see you then I’d never even get let in much less get a chance to talk to you.”
“I hope no one will be turned away who really needs to see me, madam, but the governor of a big state like New York is a mighty busy man as you can understand,” he said. “Please sit down here by the fire and tell me your business and make it brief if you don’t mind, for with five children and the Christmas holiday I’ve had a long day.”
“Is this Christmas?” she looked bewildered. “You know since Ollie got in trouble I’ve been so worried and upset I don’t know Sunday from Monday. You see, Governor, Ollie—Oliver he was named for his grandfather—is my oldest boy and my dependence. I tried to raise both of my boys good and honorable and Ollie wasn’t bad, Governor, he wasn’t a bad boy, he was just quick-tempered like his daddy. Eph, my husband, was fire and tow, he had a terrible temper and was easy to get mad, that’s how come Eph to get into trouble.”
“You’re here to see me about your husband?” he asked.