The Perfect Tribute | Page 5

reckon--it may be that
he--he must."
"I see," the other answered gravely, and the young, torn soul felt an

unreasoning confidence that he had found a friend. "Where is your
brother?"
"He's in the prison hospital there--in that big building," he pointed
down the street. "He's captain in our army--in the Confederate army.
He was wounded at Gettysburg."
"Oh!" The deep-set eyes gazed down at the fresh face, its muscles
straining under grief and responsibility, with the gentlest, most fatherly
pity. "I think I can manage your job, my boy," he said. "I used to
practise law in a small way myself, and I'll be glad to draw the will for
you."
The young fellow had whirled him around before he had finished the
sentence. "Come," he said. "Don't waste time talking--why didn't you
tell me before?" and then he glanced up. He saw the ill-fitting clothes,
the crag-like, rough-modelled head, the awkward carriage of the man;
he was too young to know that what he felt beyond these was greatness.
There was a tone of patronage in his voice and in the cock of his
aristocratic young head as he spoke. "We can pay you, you
know--we're not paupers." He fixed his eyes on Lincoln's face to watch
the impression as he added, "My brother is Carter Hampton Blair, of
Georgia. I'm Warrington Blair. The Hampton Court Blairs, you know."
"Oh!" said the President.
The lad went on:
"It would have been all right if Nellie hadn't left Washington
to-day--my sister, Miss Eleanor Hampton Blair. Carter was better this
morning, and so she went with the Senator. She's secretary to Senator
Warrington, you know. He's on the Yankee side"--the tone was full of
contempt--"but yet he's our cousin, and when he offered Nellie the
position she would take it in spite of Carter and me. We were so
poor"--the lad's pride was off its guard for the moment, melted in the
soothing trust with which this stranger thrilled his soul. It was a relief
to him to talk, and the large hand which rested on his shoulder as they
walked seemed an assurance that his words were accorded respect and
understanding. "Of course, if Nellie had been here she would have
known how to get a lawyer, but Carter had a bad turn half an hour ago,
and the doctor said he might get better or he might die any minute, and
Carter remembered about the money, and got so excited that they said
it was hurting him, so I said I'd get a lawyer, and I rushed out, and the

first thing I ran against you. I'm afraid I wasn't very polite." The smile
on the gaunt face above him was all the answer he needed. "I'm sorry. I
apologize. It certainly was good of you to come right back with me."
The child's manner was full of the assured graciousness of a high-born
gentleman; there was a lovable quality in his very patronage, and the
suffering and the sweetness and the pride combined held Lincoln by his
sense of humor as well as by his soft heart. "You sha'n't lose anything
by it," the youngster went on. "We may be poor, but we have more than
plenty to pay you, I'm sure. Nellie has some jewels, you see--oh, I think
several things yet. Is it very expensive to draw a will?" he asked
wistfully.
"No, sonny; it's one of the cheapest things a man can do," was the
hurried answer, and the child's tone showed a lighter heart.
"I'm glad of that, for, of course, Carter wants to leave--to leave as much
as he can. You see, that's what the will is about--Carter is engaged to
marry Miss Sally Maxfield, and they would have been married now if
he hadn't been wounded and taken prisoner. So, of course, like any
gentleman that's engaged, he wants to give her everything that he has.
Hampton Court has to come to me after Carter, but there's some
money--quite a lot--only we can't get it now. And that ought to go to
Carter's wife, which is what she is--just about--and if he doesn't make a
will it won't. It will come to Nellie and me if--if anything should
happen to Carter."
"So you're worrying for fear you'll inherit some money?" Lincoln asked
meditatively.
"Of course," the boy threw back impatiently. "Of course, it would be a
shame if it came to Nellie and me, for we couldn't ever make her take it.
We don't need it--I can look after Nellie and myself," he said proudly,
with a quick, tossing motion of his fair head that was like the motion of
a spirited, thoroughbred horse. They had arrived at the prison. "I can
get you through all right. They all know me here," he