Previously in the novel: War Secretary Edwin Stanton held President and Mrs. Lincoln captive under guard in basement of the White House. He guided his substitute Lincoln through his first Cabinet meeting. Then he told Lincoln’s bodyguard Ward Hill Lamon into believing Lincoln and his wife were in hiding because of death threats. Lincoln’s secretaries realize something is wrong but are afraid to say anything. Janitor Gabby Zook, caught in the basement room with the Lincolns, begins to think he is president.

They ate silently for a few minutes, with Gabby feeling quite proud that he was practicing his diplomacy well enough to keep Mrs. Lincoln from yelling at him. Maybe he was president, after all.
“Mr. Gabby,” Mrs. Lincoln said, “may I be so bold as to ask what happened?”
“When?”
“At West Point.”
“Oh.”
“Something happened for you to be the way you are now.”
“Yes, something happened.” He pushed his plate away.
“Oh dear. I’ve upset you again. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Oh no.” Gabby shook his head. “I ate all my eggs. They were good.”
“Was it absolutely dreadful?” Mrs. Lincoln asked. “What happened at West Point?”
In all these years, no one had asked him what happened that day. Many had, in a scolding tone, asked what was wrong with him, but no one put the question exactly that way. Cordie never said one thing or the other about why he came back to New York with the vacant look in his eyes. She just hugged him and took care of him, no questions at all. It was a relief for someone finally to ask.
“It was our second year there, Joe and me,” Gabby began.
“And Joe was…”
“My best friend.”
“Go on.”
“This colonel—he had a beard and was cranky like Mr. Stanton—he told me to drive his carriage out to the field so he could watch artillery practice. I told him I was a city boy from New York City, and had never driven a team of horses before. But he said I was in the army now, and if he told me to drive a carriage, I was to drive a carriage, no questions asked. So I asked him a question. I asked if my friend Joe could go with us, ride with me up front and help me, and he said fine. So Joe and I got on the carriage seat and the colonel got in the back, and we were off.
“I used to think all men with beards were cranky, until I met Mr. Lincoln.” Gabby’s eyes wandered over to the corner, where Lincoln sat on the bed, eating his pear and reading a book.
“What happened, Mr. Gabby?” Mrs. Lincoln asked.
“Well, we were doing just fine,” Gabby continued. “The colonel yelled up at us to go faster, so I did something—I don’t remember what—to make the horses go faster. Then all of a sudden Joe yelled, ‘There’s a snake in the road!’ I didn’t know what to do, and the horses reared up, causing a big ruckus, and the next thing I knew, the carriage had turned over, and the colonel and I had blood coming out of our heads.”
“And Joe?”
“He was under the carriage, ma’am,” Gabby said. “He was dead.”
“How dreadful.”
Adam unlocked the door and entered with the newspaper. “Mr. President?”
Gabby sat up and was about to answer when Lincoln came through his curtain.
“Good. I wanted to check the congressional elections.” The president smiled and reached out his hand.
“Yes, sir.” Adam looked around at Gabby and Mrs. Lincoln. “Are you finished with your breakfast dishes?”
“Yes, thank you,” Mrs. Lincoln said as she gathered the cups, saucers, and plates. “Bring me that pear stem, Father,” she called out. “I won’t have ants swarming around the room looking for your leftovers.”
“Yes, Mother,” he replied, plopping the pear stem on the tray.
“Anything else?” Adam’s voice was vacant-sounding.
“No. That’ll be all,” Mrs. Lincoln said.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Adam took the tray from the billiards table, bowed, and walked to the door.
“Oh, Private Christy,” Mrs. Lincoln added.
He turned. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Adam said.
Gabby noticed that a moment passed before Adam’s eyes registered the first word of appreciation from Mrs. Lincoln. He saw, rising from the corners of the private’s mouth, a smile forced its way onto his face, but in the end Adam lost the battle to the melancholy so apparently in control of his eyes. He left and locked the door.