"The crowd, sir—they are clamoring to get in."
Betty hurried into the family apartments to speak to Mrs. Lincoln, her mind in a whirl of resentment against John Vaughan.
The President turned to the crowd which had already poured into the room.
As usual, the cranks and inventors led the way. The inventors found the President an easy man to talk to. His mind was quick to see a good point and always open to conviction. He had once patented a device for getting flat boats over shoals himself. His immediate approval of the first model of Ericsson's famous Monitor had led to its adoption in time to meet and destroy the Merrimac in Hampton Roads on the very day the iron terror had sent his big ships to the bottom. He allowed no inventor to be turned from the door of the White House no matter how ridiculous his hobby might appear. The inventions relating to the science of war he would test himself on the big open field between the White House grounds and the river.
The first inventor in line carried the model of a new rifle which would shoot sixteen times. The army officers believed in the idea of a single shell breech loader on account of the simplicity of its mechanism. Our muskets were still muzzle loaders and the men were compelled to use ramrods to load.
The President examined the new gun with keen interest, pulled his black, shaggy beard thoughtfully, looked at the breathless inventor, and slowly mused:
"Well, now as the fat girl said when she pulled on her stocking, it strikes me there's something in it!"
The inventor laughed with nervous joy, and watched him write a card of endorsement:
"Take that to the War Department, and tell them I like your idea—I want them to look into it."
His face wreathed in smiles, the man pushed his way through the crowd, and hurried to the War Department.