He bent and shouldered the heavy box that Mary had packed with small, paper-wrapped bundles.
“Oh, Papa, let me call somebody! You shouldn’t carry that,” protested Robert.
“Little enough to do for those boys.” Lincoln bent under the burden. “It will mean more to them if I fetch it to them personally.”
“Ridiculous!” fumed Mary. “It’s beneath your dignity to lug that heavy box.”
“Put my hat on, Mary, and put it on tight so I won’t knock it off.” He ignored her protest calmly.
She jammed the high hat down over his rough hair, the bony knobs of his head. “You—the President of the United States!” she exploded. “With a house full of help and you lug that heavy thing!”
“He who would be greatest among you, let him seek out the lowest place,” quoted Lincoln, solemnly and a bit inaccurately. “Not near so heavy as a good stout oak rail and I’ve shouldered many of them in my day. Come along, Bob.”
“At least let me help carry, sir,” argued Robert as they went down the stairs.
“Don’t touch it or you’ll get it unbalanced and spill all Company K’s Christmas. Little enough, but I had John Hay fetch me a roll of greenbacks. I’ll give every man a dollar. A dollar is a right substantial present, Bob, when you’re marching and fighting for thirteen dollars a month and what you can eat, when you get a chance to eat.”
“I would do it gladly,” insisted Robert. “All I ask is a chance.”