The Mandie Collection (27 page)

Oh, how Mandie wished her grandmother had not insisted that they wear their fur capes on the train! Maybe the man intended to rob them! Mandie cringed, knowing that Grandmother had brought her expensive jewelry to wear to the Inaugural Ball.

Mandie turned around and stared straight ahead, but her heart pounded. She couldn't get her mind off the man with the small black mustache.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MEET THE PRESIDENT

As Mandie started to get off the train in the nation's capital, she glanced back. The man with the mustache stood and buttoned his suit coat. Mandie felt hot all over and her heart beat wildly. She had decided against telling her grandmother about the man, but now she wished she had.

Clutching Snowball's box, she made her feet move forward. As she stood ready to step off the train, she hardly had time to look around at the elaborate train station.

There, on the platform directly in front of Mandie, stood a tall, well-dressed man whom she recognized immediately. He had brought the President's invitation to Mandie at her mother and Uncle John's home in Franklin, North Carolina. She heaved a sigh of relief. No matter who that stranger on the train was, they were safe now with the President's man in Washington, D.C. The man held out his hand and helped Mandie down the high train steps.

Snowball meowed softly. Mandie ignored Snowball's protest and put on her best social graces, the way Miss Prudence taught her students to do. “Thank you, Mr. . . . Mr. . . . why, I don't believe I know your name, sir. But I know you work for President McKinley.”

“Adam Adamson, at your service, Miss Amanda,” the man replied.

Mandie stepped aside as the man helped Mrs. Taft down the train steps.

Mandie's grandmother carefully stepped onto the platform. “Thank you so much, Mr. Adamson,” she said quite properly. “It was so nice of you to come and meet us.”

Mr. Adamson bowed slightly, tipping his hat. “I'm the President's personal assistant, madam,” he said, “and though I am delighted to see you and Miss Amanda again, I must admit that it is simply part of my job to see that you are taken directly to the White House.”

“You don't know how glad I am to see you,” Mandie told him. Just then her white kitten meowed again, this time more loudly. “Snowball, please behave,” she scolded, tapping his box lightly. Then she turned her attention to Mr. Adamson again. “Is President McKinley at home?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes, he's at home,” Mr. Adamson replied. “However, you know his office is in the White House, so he does his work there,” he explained. “Right this way, ladies.” He led the way up some stairs and out onto the street.

Mandie's eyes grew wide as she saw a beautiful coach with four white horses waiting for them. A wiry Negro man on the high front seat quickly jumped down and opened the coach door. Mandie noticed the presidential seal on the door. The driver bowed slightly and smiled.

“Here we are,” Mr. Adamson said, assisting Mrs. Taft and then Mandie into the coach. He climbed in after them, and they went on their way through the streets of Washington.

Mandie held Snowball's box on her lap, but she could hardly sit still. With no more thought of the stranger on the train, Mandie thrilled as Mr. Adamson pointed out various landmarks on their way.

“That is the Capitol building,” Mr. Adamson pointed out.

Peering through the window, Mandie recognized the huge white building with many columns and a high dome from pictures she had seen at school. “The Capitol!” she exclaimed. “It's enormous. And it looks so tall.”

“It is rather large,” the man agreed. “It takes a lot of people to run such a big country.”

Mandie kept her face glued to the window as they traveled on. Soon another enormous building came into sight. “What is that great big building there?” she asked.

“That is the State, War, and Navy building, Miss Amanda,” Mr. Adamson told her. Then he began explaining what the function of the Department of State was.

Mandie interrupted him to show off her knowledge, and he was surprised.

“Amanda, dear, please let Mr. Adamson continue with his explanation,” Mrs. Taft said softly.

Mandie turned to apologize. “I'm sorry, Mr. Adamson. I'm just so excited, ‘I'm bustin' at the seams,' as our cook, Aunt Lou, would say.”

“I understand,” Mr. Adamson replied. “That's perfectly all right. Just don't bust your seams before you get a chance to meet the President,” he added with a grin.

They all laughed.

In a few minutes they rode up the curved cobblestone driveway to the front of the White House. Mandie sat speechless as she gazed at the big white mansion with ten enormous columns holding up the roof to the front porch.

She reached for Mrs. Taft's hand and squeezed hard. “I'm afraid I'm dreaming and I'll wake up any minute,” she said.

Mrs. Taft smiled down at her. “I know I'm not dreaming, and I don't believe you are either, dear,” she responded as the coach came to a halt by the front steps.

The driver quickly opened the door of the coach, and Mr. Adamson stepped out to assist Mrs. Taft and Mandie. Snowball mewed loudly from inside his box, apparently not liking the shaking he got as his mistress left the coach. Mandie spoke comfortingly to him, then turned her attention back to their host.

Mr. Adamson led the way up the front steps to the White House. “I have been instructed to take you directly to the President's personal quarters where you will meet the First Lady,” he explained. “Then you will be given a room to rest in until the President finishes his day's work and can join you for supper.”

A uniformed butler, standing just inside the front doorway, quickly pushed the door open as they walked across the front porch.

Suddenly Mrs. Taft stopped in her tracks. “My word!” she exclaimed. “I was so distracted, I didn't even remember our baggage on the train! Oh, dear!”

Mr. Adamson smiled. “Your baggage will probably be in your rooms by the time you get there,” he said. “You see, the driver had someone get it off the train while you and Miss Amanda were talking to me at the station.”

Mrs. Taft looked embarrassed. “How could I have been so addled?”

Mandie gripped Snowball's box tighter. “They sure must have been fast,” she said. “But how did they know which baggage belonged to us?”

Mr. Adamson turned to her. “You didn't know this, but the President sent an agent to ride the train to Washington with you,” he explained, “just to make sure you arrived safely. He rode in the same car with you.”

Mandie's eyes grew wide. “Did this man by any chance have a small black mustache?” she asked, suddenly remembering the man who wouldn't take his eyes off her.

Mr. Adamson smiled. “Why, yes,” he replied. “That was our man, Tadford.”

Instantly Mandie felt relieved and honored. The President had cared enough to send a man just to make sure that nothing happened to them on the train. She shook her head at how fast she had jumped to the wrong conclusions.

Mr. Adamson held the door and waited for the ladies to go through the doorway. “Don't forget,” he cautioned, “you are the guests of the President of the United States.”

Mandie held her head high. Hardly noticing the maid who took their wraps, she gazed about in wonder at the magnificence of the White House furnishings in the entrance hall. This was
the
White House, and she was inside it, standing on her own two feet. And she would soon meet the President himself. It was
not
a dream. Her heart beat rapidly as she continued to look around, and soon she became so weak-kneed that she wasn't sure she could take another step.

Then her grandmother's hand on her arm broke the spell. “Amanda, we are waiting,” Mrs. Taft said, smiling.

“I'm sorry,” Mandie quickly replied. “I'm just scared to death.”

“But you have nothing to be afraid of, Miss Amanda,” Mr. Adamson encouraged as he led the way down the hallway.

“Oh, but I do!” Mandie cried, trying to keep up with his long strides. “You see, I'm always getting into trouble doing things I shouldn't. I'm so afraid I'll do something wrong while I'm in the White House.”

Mr. Adamson shook his head slowly in amusement. “I don't think you have anything to worry about,” he responded. “You see, the President loves young people. He had two little daughters of his own but lost both of them when they were small. Ever since then, he has been lonely for children.”

“I'm so sorry,” Mandie murmured sadly. “I guess I never thought about whether the President had any children or not.”

“I'm confident he will greatly enjoy your visit,” Mr. Adamson assured her.

After getting permission to take Snowball from his box, Mandie left the box with a servant and clutched her kitten tightly as they made their way down the hallway to the President's quarters. Mandie noticed many men and women in uniforms—maids and butlers—she couldn't possibly guess what they each did. And the hallways seemed miles long.

Finally Mr. Adamson came to a stop outside an ornate door. “This is the President's parlor, where the First Lady is waiting to receive you,” he told them.

Mrs. Taft threw back her shoulders and straightened her dress. Mandie held her breath and waited for him to open the door.

Pushing the door inward, Mr. Adamson cleared his throat. “Mrs. Norman Taft and Miss Amanda Shaw, Mrs. McKinley,” he announced.

Mandie gasped at the lavish room. Mr. Adamson stepped aside and allowed them to enter, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

A beautiful woman with wavy, graying auburn hair, which she wore parted in the middle, rose from a seat near the glowing fire in the fireplace. Her lavender silk gown set off her fair skin. “Welcome, Mrs. Taft and Miss Shaw,” she said. Smiling, Mrs. McKinley continued, “The President and I are so happy you could come for a visit. Won't you please sit down?” The President's wife pointed them to a settee across from her, and she sat back down.

“Thank you, Mrs. McKinley,” Mrs. Taft replied, taking a place on the settee. “It is a great honor to meet you.”

Mandie held Snowball tightly. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. McKinley,” she said with a quaver in her voice. “I . . . I'm so excited I just can't
think of anything else to say. Please forgive me.” She hurried to sit beside her grandmother.

“I know how you feel, dear,” the First Lady said kindly. “When I was your age, I never dreamed I would ever meet the President of the United States. And here I am
married
to him.” She gave a little laugh.

Just then a trim maid in a neat uniform hurried in with a tea cart and wheeled it over to Mrs. McKinley. Taking the teapot and china from the cart, she placed it on the table between the two settees. Mandie was glad to see that there were several plates of gooey-looking sweet treats.

Suddenly Snowball squirmed and leaped out of Mandie's grasp onto the floor. Mandie quickly jumped up and snatched at him as he hurried to the hearth by the warm fire.

“Snowball, come back here!” Mandie scolded, reaching for him.

Mrs. McKinley didn't seem disturbed at all. “Let him stay there, dear,” she said as she began pouring the tea. “Do you think he would drink some milk?”

“Oh, sure,” Mandie said, sitting down again. “He'll eat anything you give him.”

Mrs. McKinley turned to the maid, who stood by the cart. “Antoinette, would you please take a saucer and pour some milk in it?” she asked. “Then just put it on the hearth there for the kitten.”

“Yes, madam,” Antoinette replied. Mandie detected a foreign accent and decided it was French because of her name.

Antoinette immediately made friends with Snowball and kept filling the saucer with milk as he drank it. Mandie watched out of the corner of her eye as the maid softly encouraged the cat to drink more. Mandie could only faintly hear what she was saying, but it didn't sound like English. Amused, she wondered if Snowball could understand French.

Before long, as they all sipped tea and nibbled on sweet cakes, Mandie's grandmother and Mrs. McKinley were carrying on a conversation as though they were old friends. The First Lady was so warm, friendly, and down-to-earth that Mandie liked her at once.

Mandie wasn't sure how they got on the subject of dishes, but Mrs. McKinley was telling Mrs. Taft about the presidential china that President Harrison's wife had started collecting. “I have made that my project, as well, to continue working on the collection,” she said. She had Antoinette show Mrs. Taft the fancy white and gold punch
bowl on a pedestal that had been used during the Franklin Pierce administration.

As they finished tea, Mrs. McKinley said, “Antoinette will show you to your rooms so you can rest and freshen up before supper. She has a daughter, Isabelle, who will be your maid while you are here.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Taft replied, rising from the settee. “We look forward to dining with you and the President later.”

Mandie hurriedly snatched up Snowball. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. McKinley,” she responded. “I was really hungry and thirsty after that long train ride. And so was Snowball.”

“I thought you might be, dear,” the First Lady replied. “Have a nice rest now, and we'll see you at supper.”

After following Antoinette through a maze of hallways, they finally stopped outside a room. Antoinette threw the door open. Inside, a dark-haired girl in a uniform was fluffing pillows and straightening the bedspread.

Antoinette turned to Mrs. Taft. “Madam, your room,” she said, motioning her inside. Then quickly walking across the hallway, she opened another door and said to Mandie, “Mademoiselle, your boudoir. Isabelle will attend you also.” Before Mandie could even say thank you, Antoinette hurried off down the hallway.

Instead of going into her own room, Mandie crossed the hall to her grandmother's, where the door was still open. She went inside. To her amazement, her grandmother was carrying on a rapid conversation in French with the young maid Isabelle. She had no idea her grandmother could speak any language other than English.