I replied, “No, Mr. Lincoln, I should have been neither angry nor sick.”
“What would you have done?” he asked curiously. “I should have been here at nine o’clock, Mr. President.”
“Well,” he laughingly said, “I think I acted wisely, then,” and suddenly looking up, “Don’t you ever get angry?” he asked, “I know a little woman not very unlike you who gets mad sometimes.”
I replied, “I never get angry when I have an object to gain of the importance of the one under consideration; to get angry, you know, would only weaken my cause, and destroy my influence.”
“That is true, that is true,” he said, decidedly. “This hospital I shall name for you.”
I said, “No, but if you would not consider the request indelicate, I would like to have it named for Mr. Harvey.”
“Yes, just as well, it shall be so understood if you prefer it. I honored your husband, and felt his loss, and now let us have this matter settled at once.”
He took a card and wrote a few words upon it, requesting the Secretary of War to name the hospital “Harvey Hospital,” in memory of my husband, and to gratify me he gave
me the card, saying, “Now do you take that directly to the Secretary of War and have it understood.” I thanked him, but did not take it to Mr. Stanton. The hospital was already named. I expressed a wish that he might never regret his present action, and said I was sorry to have taken so much of his time.
“Oh, no, you need not be,” he said kindly.