RECOLLECTIONS OF FULL YEARS
Helen was sufficiently startled to place Charlie under cross-examination at once. She had visions of grave complications wherein he played the unfortunate part of a President’s son who had forgotten the rigid discretion exacted of him by the nature of his position.
Charlie admitted that it was a reporter who had called him up.
“Couldn’t you tell that from the way I talked to him?” said he.
He had heard enough such conversations to have acquired the natural “tone,” but he insisted that the subject of his conversation with his reporter was “purely personal” and had nothing whatever to do with his sister nor yet with any matters of high importance to the Government.
The question had to be referred to the President, his father, before he would admit that the reporter wanted to write something about his going into long trousers.
“And if that isn’t a personal matter,” said he, “I should like to know what is.”
To his intense delight, his “absolute denial” to the contrary notwithstanding, I fitted him out, kissed my baby good-bye and sent a young man son off to school in his stead, feeling vaguely thankful that I should have until Christmas to get used to the thought of him before having to see him again.
Shortly afterward I returned to the White House and to the routine of a social season. The Cabinet officers having all gone to their respective homes we gave the Cabinet Dinner with all its accustomed formalities, then came musicals, luncheons, small dinners, teas and parties of various sorts until near the end of the year when I introduced my daughter to society.
Helen had gone out in Washington and had attended my entertainments during the winter of 1909 whenever she had been at home from college and when I was ill had even acted
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