Sarah's Ground (9781439115855) by Ann Rinaldi Page A

maddening hordes.”
    â€œSo far it’s worked. And I wish you’d call me Upton, not Mr. Herbert.”
    â€œThen, you must call me Sarah.”
    â€œAgreed.”
    I betook myself to Washington City. I went by theomnibus from Alexandria, taking Priscilla with me because Emily was making pies and was afraid of war.
    Priscilla is one person I would describe as stout of purpose. It makes her appear matronly, though I know she is not yet thirty. Emily is thin and filled with nervous excitement. Priscilla knows most everyone in the neighborhood, and though she wears a turban, I know she has gray in her hair.
    Emily has a monstrous fear of the war, but I think Priscilla would meet a contingent of soldiers head-on and scold them for having dirty boots. In the pecking order of things, I know she considers herself senior servant in the house, and I let her have the privilege.
    Washington City was in the same state as the last time we were there, only more so. Soldiers marching, crowds shuffling, soldiers cooking and eating on government lawns, Nigras holding horses’ reins and waiting outside hotels, boys screeching headlines.
    â€œWe must go to the War Department,” I told Priscilla.
    â€œThey gots a whole department for that? My, my,” she said, “these white people do take on about things.”
    Yes,
I thought as we wended our way through glass doors and across marble floors,
we do take on, don’t we?
    The man I must see first, to be proper about things, was a Mr. Graham, a friend of Miss Cunningham’s. In no time we found his office, but he was not in. So I turned to the officer who had ushered us to his door. “Take me toGeneral Scott,” I said, and I explained to him who I was and why I had come.
    â€œMiss, we can’t just barge in on General Scott.”
    â€œYou just take me there. I’ll tend to the barging.”
    We went up another flight of stairs. There were soldiers and men standing all over the place, likely waiting to see the general too, but they parted like the Red Sea for Moses when we came through. The hall was large, echoing, and dimly lit, and the tiled floor was dirty from so many boots.
    On a door was printed his name: GENERAL WINFIELD SCOTT . The officer knocked and, from inside, was told to enter. He went in, leaving the door slightly ajar.
    â€œA friend of Miss Cunningham’s,” I heard a deep, booming voice say. “What does she want?”
    I did not hear the reply, but I heard laughter. Then, “God bless the ladies!” And the door opened and they came out.
    General Scott was in full uniform, with gold epaulets on his shoulders and a double row of brass buttons in front. He was gray haired, and tufts of hair stood out over his ears.
    â€œMy dear lady, I can promise you that no Federal troops will be stationed or placed at Mount Vernon,” he said. “Nor will they march across its lawns with guns.”
    â€œThank you,” I said. “We wish to keep the place free of war. A neutral ground.”
    â€œAs behooves its sacred atmosphere,” he said. “But now”—and there was a twinkle in his eye—“can you beequally sure Virginia will honor this agreement?”
    He was asking me to speak for Virginia! For the Southern army! So I did.
    â€œYes,” I said. “I can.”
    Thank heaven he did not ask me how. For I did not know the how of it. He bowed, took my hand, and kissed it. “God bless the ladies,” he said again. “You are a refreshing appearance in my long and terrible day. I shall give you a written order.”
    â€œAnd I’ll need a pass for myself and the servants.”
    â€œThat, too,” he agreed.
    I have met the commander in chief of the Northern army,
I thought as we went back downstairs.
And he made me a promise. I wonder what Fanny would have to say about that. I wonder what Mother and Father would have to say
.
    Then I thought,
But he is