It was the President's turn to look surprised, and for an instant he was at a loss to know what to say; then he took her hand and led her away to the study, with the grave command, "Come, Peace, I think we will have to see this out by ourselves."
She caught her breath sharply, but never having questioned his authority since the days of the little brown house were over, she obediently followed him into the dim library and heard the door click behind them. As the gas flared up when he touched a match to the jet, she looked apprehensively about the room, and shuddered as she saw the brass ruler lying on top of a pile of papers on the desk. He even picked it up and toyed with it for a moment, and she thought her hour of reckoning had surely come. And it had, but not in the way she expected.
Dropping the ruler at length, he abruptly ordered, "Sit down in my lap, Peace."
Usually he lifted her to that throne of honor himself, but this time he made no effort to help her, and when she was seated with her face lifted expectantly toward his, he disengaged the warm arms from about his neck and turned her around on his knee until she was looking at the desk straight in front of them. Then he picked up a book and began reading silently.
Peace was plainly puzzled, for each time she turned her head to look at him, he gently but firmly wheeled her about and went on reading. At last she could be patient no longer, and with an angry little hop, she demanded, "What's the fuss about, grandpa? What are you going to do?"
Without looking up from his book he laid one finger on his lips and remained silent.
"Can't I talk?"
It was a terrible punishment for Peace to keep still, and knowing this, just the faintest glimmer of a smile twitched at his lips, but he merely nodded gravely.
"Aren't you going to say anything?"
Gravely he shook his head.