"What he will not get. Let him go. I said I had two reasons for ordering you here. One I have stated. I want some one I can entirely trust, not merely for honesty and loyalty, but also because of business competence. All manner of work for the Government is going on here and elsewhere. I want some one to report on it from time to time. It will keep you here this winter. You do not like it?"
"No, but it was an order."
"Yes, I am sorry to take you for a time out of active service, but trust me this war will last long. This winter I want you for a variety of inspection work here or elsewhere. It will be mere business, dull, unexciting, with unending watchfulness, and advisory technical help and advice. I want not only personal character—I can get that, but not easily the combination of technical training and business capacity." He unrolled a bundle of papers. "There for example, Colonel, are plans for a new form of ambulance and pontoon wagons ready for approval. I want a report on both." He went on to speak of the ambulances with amazing knowledge of the details of their build. Penhallow watched this earnest, overtasked man, and began to comprehend the vastness of his daily toil, the weight of his mighty load of care. As he talked, cards were brought in, messages sent or received, telegrams—the talk was dropped—resumed—and the Colonel simply listened. At last the Secretary said, "That will do for to-day. You have room No. 27, and such clerks and orderlies as you may need. You will find on your table these specifications—and more—others. And now, how is your beautiful Grey Pine and its mistress and Leila? You will assure them of my undiminished affection. And John—where is he?"
"With General Grant, but where just now I cannot say."
As he spoke, the door opened and an officer announced—"The President." The ungainly length of Lincoln appeared. A quiet smile lingered on the large-featured face, with some humorous appreciation of the War Secretary's evident annoyance at this abrupt visit. Mr. Stanton's greeting as he rose was as the Colonel thought coldly civil.
"My friend, Colonel Penhallow, sir."
"Glad to see you," said Lincoln, and then with a certain simplicity explained, "You see, Colonel, sometimes I run away out of the back of the White House—just to get free of the guards. Don't look so bothered, Stanton. I'm too fine a failure for any one to want to kill me. Any news?"
"None," said the secretary, as he stood not too well pleased; "Colonel
Penhallow is to be in my office on inspection duty."
"Indeed! Glad to see you." The huge hand closed on Penhallow's with innocent use of its power. "Name sounds familiar. Yes—there was a cadet of your name last year. Your son, I suppose?"
"No, my nephew—in the engineers with General Grant."