"You must leave so early, dear?"
"I must catch the first bout for Aquia. The news from the front is hideous. The force there is utterly inadequate. They've asked for every nurse that can be spared for a week. The wounded lay on the ground for three days and nights, and hundreds of them can't be moved to Washington. The woods took fire dozens of times and many of the poor boys were terribly burned. The suffering, they say, is indescribable."
The old man suddenly rose, with a fierce light flashing in his eyes:
"Oh, the miserable blunderer in the White House—this war has been one grim and awful succession of his mistakes!"
Betty placed her hand on his arm in tender protest:
"Father, dear, how can you be so unreasonable—so insanely unjust? Your hatred of the President is a positive mania——"
"I'm not alone in my affliction, child; Arnold is his only friend in Congress to-day——"
"Then it's a shame—a disgrace to the Nation. Every disaster is laid at his door. In his big heart he is carrying the burden of millions—their suffering, their sorrows, their despair. You blamed him at first for trifling with the war. Now you blame him for the bloody results when the army really fights. You ask for an effective campaign and when you get these tragic battles you heap on his head greater curses. It isn't right. It isn't fair. I can't understand how a man with your deep sense of justice can be so cruelly inconsistent——"
The Senator shook his grey head in protest:
"There! there! dear—we won't discuss it. You're a woman and you can't understand my point of view. We'll just agree to disagree. You like the man in the White House. God knows he's lonely—I shouldn't begrudge him that little consolation. His whole attitude in this war is loathsome to me. To him the Southerners are erring brethren to be brought back as prodigal sons in the end. To me they are criminal outlaws to be hanged and quartered—their property confiscated, the foundations of their society destroyed, and every trace of their States blotted from the map——"