# The President's Daughter (Britton)/Chapter 58

It must have been in early February, 1921, that Mr. Harding wrote to me, telling me he and his family were going to Cleveland to have some dental work done and that I should meet him at the Hotel Statler there. I did so, following his in​structions to await a messenger on the mezzanine floor who would bring me a note in his (Mr. Harding's) handwriting so that I should know it was all right to accompany him to where Mr. Harding would be waiting for me. This messenger, whose name I do not recall, evidently thought I had considerable influence with the President-elect, for he talked to me very earnestly about certain things that Mr. Harding "ought to do," all of which I listened to without much comment. Then at the appointed time he escorted me upstairs to the room which had been reserved for our interview. Mr. Harding joined me in this room almost immediately and we remained there for an hour or so. Outside the door a guard was stationed.
Mr. Harding looked worn and I asked him if he had had a trying time at the dentist's, to which he replied, "I've been in the chair for four hours straight, Nan," with a wry smile. I tried to kiss the memory of it away.
I told Mr. Harding how I felt about the adoption, and that I could not bring myself to give our child up to anyone. He said he understood how I felt, but that the time had come when we would have to devise some means of taking care of her and he did not feel the home of the nurse was the proper place.
"How about putting her in a Catholic Home, dearie?", he inquired gently. I was sitting on his lap and at this suggestion I sat up very straight and looked at him, astounded. "A Catholic Home!" I repeated incredulously. "Why, Nan, they are not bad places—the surroundings are refined, and she would receive excellent care until such time as you or I might be able to take her," he explained.
But the very idea of a "home" conjured up before me pictures too distasteful for words. I remembered the "orphans' home" near Marion, which I occasionally used to pass when my father, who practised medicine twenty-five years in Marion, took me with him on calls into the country, and the memory of the pity and sense of fear with which I shrunk from going past that "home" was something akin to the feeling I experienced when Mr. Harding mentioned a "Catholic Home." Once inside such ​a place, perhaps one might have to remain—I didn't know. And it seemed all out of proportion to the character of our own special case to suggest such a home for a President's child.
I supposed I voiced these things aloud; I don't remember. But Mr. Harding was entirely sympathetic. "I'll agree to anything you suggest, dearie," he said. Of course I had nothing to suggest. I would not listen to his repeated suggestion that he see Mr. Scobey, or even that he talk with his sister, Mrs. Charity Remsberg. I wanted Elizabeth Ann myself, and somehow it seemed to me I would never never see her again if I allowed either of these families to take her, even though Mrs. Remsberg was my sweetheart's sister.
"I guess the only thing is to let Elizabeth and Scott adopt her," I said resignedly. Then I could be with her at least. "See, here I have Elizabeth's itemized statement of her expenses if we decide to follow such a course," and I produced a small piece of paper on which my sister had entered her necessary monthly expenses. Mr. Harding slapped his Oxford glasses on his nose and looked at the final amount at the bottom; he was never much interested in my money items except as a whole. He agreed to the amount, saying if such an arrangement would make me happier than would an arrangement such as he had suggested, whereby later on I or he might take the baby as ours, he was agreeable to it. He tried to impress upon me how I would want to take the baby later on, but I could not see any future possibility of my being able to do so; and would he not be in the White House for four long years?—possibly eight. The adoption by the Willitses seemed to me to be the only thing in sight, regardless of how I deplored the arrangement.
Mr. Harding had met Scott Willits casually, immediately following his nomination in Chicago. This meeting was prearranged by Mr. Harding and me, and took place in the Florentine Room of the Congress Hotel. It was late afternoon when Mr. Harding appeared where others besides Elizabeth, Scott and I were waiting to shake his hand. He came in hatless and the June warmth was in his face. I have never experienced in Chicago, heat ​surpassing the heat of those exciting days of the Republican Convention in 1920. My brother-in-law had been out of the hospital less than a week where he had undergone a slight operation, and his cheeks were sallow. How healthy Mr. Harding looked! His greeting for all of us was one of such natural cordiality and long-time friendliness that I am sure it did not go unremarked by others in the room. We chatted several minutes, then Mr. Harding said with his good-natured smile, "You know, we folks who run for office sometimes neglect a lot of things—I just happened to think, standing here, that I have had no luncheon!" I looked at the watch which he had given me three years before. "Why, it's four o'clock!" Mr. Harding looked around cautiously at the others waiting to claim his time. "Yes, and I must go—" I interrupted him. "You're going first and have some luncheon—please!" I pleaded as he turned to Elizabeth and Scott and held out his hand. I squeezed his fingers, and, as he turned away, called after him again, "Don't forget to eat!"
Now, on the occasion of my visit with him in the Statler Hotel, he was recalling this meeting with Scott and assuring me that he thought everything would be fine if we decided to proceed with the adoption arrangement. I remember he said, "You love Elizabeth, don't you, dearie?" And when I sobbed against his shoulder, "Y-e-s, b-u-t," he said, "Well, I know she will do all in her power to see that you have Elizabeth Ann with you as much as you wish." I told him then that she had indeed been a peach. "Yes," agreed Mr. Harding, "I have never known a more beautiful love between two sisters than that which exists between you and Elizabeth." He knew better than anyone else how I adored my sister.
Then, in an attempt at a gayer mood, which I am sure the work of the dentist and our serious considerations could not have genuinely inspired, Mr. Harding told me how he thought he could have me often in Washington. He promised to send for me just as soon after the inauguration as possible. He gave me sufficient funds to carry me over and to pay Elizabeth and Scott ​in advance, and urged me to complete the adoption arrangements as soon as I comfortably could.
Then he kissed me goodbye and we parted again.