And so, in an incredibly short time, Blossom
reached the Capitol and hastened to the White House.
The president had just seated himself to his morning task of
overlooking and signing important papers, when without one word
of announcement the door softly opened, and Blossom, with
down-cast eyes and folded hands, stood before him.
"Well, my child," he said in his pleasant, cheerful tones, "what
do you want so bright and early this morning?"
"Bennie's life, sir," faltered Blossom.
"Who is Bennie?"
"My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for sleeping at
his post."
"O, yes," and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the papers before him.
"I remember. It was a fatal sleep. You see, my child, it was a
time of special danger. Thousands of lives might have been lost
by his culpable negligence."
"So my father said," replied Blossom, gravely. "But poor Bennie
was so tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak. He did the work of two,
sir, and it was Jemmie's night, not his; but Jemmie was too
tired, and Bennie never thought about himself that he was tired
too."
"What is this you say, child? Come here, I do not understand,"
and the kind man caught eagerly as ever at what seemed to be a
justification of the offense.
Blossom went to him; he put his hand tenderly on her shoulder and
turned up the pale face toward his. How tall he seemed! And he
was the President of the United States, too! A dim thought of
this kind passed for a minute through Blossom's mind, but she
told her simple, straightforward story and handed Mr.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68