Lincoln pulled out the watch, grinning boyishly. Mary’s eyes brightened as she fingered the handsomely engraved case.
“Why, it must be terribly expensive,” she approved. “What does Tad mean about the Proclamation?”
“I sent a copy to Chicago. They auctioned it off.”
“For three thousand dollars,” added Tad.
“My Heaven, you mean they got three thousand dollars just for that piece of paper?” exclaimed Mary.
“It was a pretty important paper, Mary, to a million or so poor black people anyway. A copy would be a historic memento a hundred years from now. Understand—” he fended off the small glint of avidity that so often troubled him in Mary Lincoln’s pale gray eyes “—this was a charity thing. For their fair out there in Chicago.”
“You only made one copy?” She turned the watch in her small, plumb fingers.
He hedged uneasily sensing the trend of her thinking. “I made one or two for old friends. No—” he raised a hand “—I’m not making any more, so put that idea out of your mind.”
She flared. “Why do you always accuse me of things I’m not even thinking?” she cried angrily.
“Maybe because I know you better than you know yourself, my dear,” he said gently. “You were thinking that this is a nice watch but that three thousand dollars is three thousand dollars.”