Being presented to young Mrs. Cleveland, he handed her a card on which he had written, “He didn’t,” and asked her to sign her name below those words.  Mrs. Cleveland protested that she must know first what it was that he hadn’t done, finally agreeing to sign if he would tell her immediately all about it, which he promised to do.  She signed, and he handed her Mrs. Clemens’s note.  It was very brief.  It said, “Don’t wear your arctics in the White House.”

Mrs. Cleveland summoned a messenger and had the card mailed immediately to Mrs. Clemens.

Absent-mindedness was characteristic of Mark Twain.  He lived so much in the world within that to him the material outer world was often vague and shadowy.  Once when he was knocking the balls about in the billiard-room, George, the colored butler, a favorite and privileged household character, brought up a card.  So many canvassers came to sell him one thing and another that Clemens promptly assumed this to be one of them.  George insisted mildly, but firmly, that, though a stranger, the caller was certainly a gentleman, and Clemens grumblingly descended the stairs.  As he entered the parlor the caller arose and extended his hand.  Clemens took it rather limply, for he had noticed some water-colors and engravings leaning against the furniture as if for exhibition, and he was instantly convinced that the caller was a picture-canvasser.  Inquiries by the stranger as to Mrs. Clemens and the children did not change Mark Twain’s conclusion.  He was polite, but unresponsive, and gradually worked the visitor toward the front door.  His inquiry as to the home of Charles Dudley Warner caused him to be shown eagerly in that direction.

Clemens, on his way back to the billiard-room, heard Mrs. Clemens call him—­she was ill that day:  “Youth!”

“Yes, Livy.”  He went in for a word.

“George brought me Mr. B.’s card.  I hope you were nice to him; the B’s were so nice to us, once, in Europe, while you were gone.”

“The B’s!  Why, Livy!”

“Yes, of course; and I asked him to be sure to call when he came to Hartford.”

“Well, he’s been here.”

“Oh Youth, have you done anything?”

“Yes, of course I have.  He seemed to have some pictures to sell, so I sent him over to Warner’s.  I noticed he didn’t take them with him.  Land sakes!  Livy, what can I do?”

“Go right after him—­go quick!  Tell him what you have done.”

He went without further delay, bareheaded and in his slippers, as usual.  Warner and B. were in cheerful conversation.  They had met before.  Clemens entered gaily.

“Oh, yes, I see!  You found him all right.  Charlie, we met Mr. B. and his wife in Europe, and they made things pleasant for us.  I wanted to come over here with him, but I was a good deal occupied just then.  Livy isn’t very well, but she seems now a good deal better; so I just followed along to have a good talk, all together.”