Dinner was ready for the table when the guests came from their rooms.  Davis excused his lack of ceremonial dress, saying pleasantly: 

“I am something of a soldier, you know, and travel with a light train.  Lee, there, has the advantage of me.  A soldier’s uniform is court costume the world over.”

“But you are the commander-in-chief, Mr. President.  Don’t you have a uniform?”

“No.  I am commander-in-chief only in law.  Congress is really the commander-in-chief.  The man that assumes those duties can attend to them alone.  He is, of course, subject to the executive; but only in general plans, rarely in details.”

Davis was placed at Mrs. Atterbury’s right, Mrs. Sprague at her left, General Lee sat at Vincent’s right, vis-a-vis to Jack, who was lost in prodigious admiration of the Socratic-like chieftain—­Lee was as yet unknown to all but a discriminating few in the Confederacy.  He was as tall as Davis fully six feet—­but more rounded and symmetrical.  He spoke with great gravity, but seemed to enjoy the jests that the young people found opportunities to indulge in, when it was seen that the President devoted his talk exclusively to the hostess or Mrs. Sprague.  Davis was a good talker, and charmed the company with reminiscences of old times in Congress.

“I don’t remember Lincoln distinctly,” he said, concluding a reminiscence, “but I think he’s the man that used to be so popular in the House cloak-room, telling stories which were said to be extremely droll.”

“Mrs. Lincoln is in some sort kin to Mrs. Davis, isn’t she?” Mrs. Atterbury asked.  “I have read it somewhere.”

“Very distant.  Mrs. Lincoln is of the Kentucky Tods, and they were in some way kin of my wife’s family, the Howells.  Not enough to put on mourning, if Mrs. Lincoln should become a widow.”

“Is it true, Mr. President, that a society in the North has offered a million dollars for your capture—­abduction?  I heard it in Williamsburg, and saw an allusion to it in The Examiner the other day.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can’t say.  If the offer were authenticated, I should be tempted to go and get the reward myself.  With a million dollars I could do a good deal more for the cause in the North than I can here, making brigadiers and settling questions of precedence between Cabinet ministers, judges, and Senators.”

“Mr. President, give me an exchange North, and I will ascertain the facts in the million-dollar offer and write you faithfully how to set about getting the money,” Jack said, very soberly, from his end of the table.

“Ah! the Yankee spoke there—­nothing if not a bargain.  Sir, you deserve your clearance papers, but I’m too good a friend of Mrs. Atterbury and her daughter to bring about the loss of company that I am sure must be agreeable.  Then, too, there’s no telling the miracles of conversion that may be brought about by such ministers as Miss Rosa there.”