“You are now reduced to the rank of private, Thomas Lincoln,” he stated, “until such time as you can conduct yourself in the proper manner and discipline of an officer of the Army of the United States. Strip off his epaulets, Corporal.”
The corporal obeyed, looking unhappy and ill at ease, handing the gold-fringed boards into the hands of the commander in chief.
“Private Thomas Lincoln, you will now escort the President of the United States back to the White House,” ordered Abraham Lincoln. “Forward march!”
Every man of Company K fell in, marched in grave formation, eyes straight ahead, chins set, weapons held ready, to the side door of the house. Lincoln entered first, turned on the doorstep, and soberly saluted the ranks.
“My deepest gratitude, men of Company K,” he said, “for labor beyond the call of duty.”
Tad marched in stiffly; then, with a frightened look backward at this stranger who had been his adored and indulgent father, flew through the hall and up the stairs. His mother came hurrying out of the sitting room but he ignored her, flying past her to the room with the great high-topped bed. There Private Thomas Lincoln dived under the bed.
When the dinner gong sounded, he refused to come out, even at his father’s stern order.
“All right,” dismissed Abraham Lincoln. “Since you’re such a craven and a coward, Private Lincoln, you may remain in durance there. I can eat two drumsticks.”
Tad rolled out, swiftly, covered with dust and lint.
“I am not a coward!” he sobbed. “I climbed most to the top of that silly ole monument!”