RECOLLECTIONS OF FULL YEARS
housekeeper’s room, and the Secretary to the President had my son Charlie’s room. I think probably as a house party it was unique, but if there had been any more Departments of Government the President would have had to fit up a dormitory.
At this point in Archie Butt’s record I find the note: "Mrs. Taft left this morning for New York to fit her son Charlie out in long trousers."
That brings up unpleasant memories. Like any sensible woman I never would admit that I had reached the high point in life as long as I had one son still in knickerbockers, but with one son at Yale, with a young lady daughter ready to be presented to society, and with Charlie going into long trousers I felt that the day was approaching when the unhappy phrase "getting on in years" might be applied to me.
The very rapid lengthening of Charlie's legs had been a subject of much discussion at Beverly during the summer and the necessity for bestowing upon him the dignity of man-style garments had been manifest to everybody sometime before I would consent to recognise it.
One day the telephone rang and Helen answered it. A voice at the other end of the line said:
"I'd like to speak to Master Charlie Taft, please."
"Somebody wants to speak to you, Charlie," said Helen. Then sister-like she stood by to see who it was and what he could possibly want with her unimportant younger brother. She was surprised to hear this half of a very earnest conversation:
"Who said so?"
"Certainly not!"
"Well, somebody has been giving you misinformation."
"An absolute denial.”
"Well, if you want to quote me exactly you may say that I said the rumour is false; wholly without foundation."
"All right. Goodbye."
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