swallowed.
"The dear girl was homesick for us," Hannah said.
"Sarah!" Anna scolded. Charles looked shocked and displeased.
Sarah's eyes filled with scalding tears which she blinked back. "I wanted to be here when General Jackson came."
Charles threw back his head and laughed. "He may not come for weeks or months or ever. I've kept hope alive, but I can't stay much longer. The foul weather here doesn't agree with me. I've had one cold after another though I live prudently. Ah, I am anxious to be home."
"Take this," Hannah said, serving him a pungent-smelling tea.
"I'll help Sarah get settled," Anna said.
When they were in Anna's bedroom, Anna lectured her sternly, but it had no effect. Sarah was too relieved that her uncle had not stormed at her. She was weary and sat down, hanging her head until Anna finished. Anna paused to take a breath and Sarah looked up teasingly. "Is General Jackson a hero or a villain?"
Anna shrugged. "It depends on who you talk to or which paper you read."
"I know. But here in the capital, people surely know. What do you hear?"
Anna rubbed the back of her neck and frowned. "Spain is demanding restitution of Pensacola and the captured forts and punishment of General Jackson. But the biggest issue with Clay and Crawford in the Senate seems to be Jackson's execution of Arbuthnot and Ambrister. Jackson said they were guilty of treason for giving the Indians guns and leading them to battle. Clay and Crawford say that their execution was a vengeful act, that Jackson overreached his authority. Jackson's people say he received authority for everything he did from the President. Monroe admits he told Jackson to keep peace in the region, but says he didn't have the power to authorize war; only Congress possessed that. It's all more complicated than that, but the details confuse me."
"And what about Richard Johnson? I'll wager they aren't confusing him. Or haven't you seen him lately?"
"Richard is just as helpful as ever—and you can stop looking at me like that. It's Uncle Charles he admires so much."
"Anna, I'm not blind. When I was here before I saw exactly what he admired. And he's quite a charming man. You should be flattered."
"Well, I have enjoyed his company. And so has Uncle Charles. And incidentally, he is General Jackson's greatest defender. He absolutely won't tolerate a breath of slander about the greatest General this country has ever known. Richard calls Jackson's opponents a pack of political cutthroats."
"Does Richard think Jackson will come?"
Anna nodded. "He hopes so."
"Oh, I do, too," Sarah said. "And I hope he will sit."
Anna put her hands on her hips and glared at Sarah. "Well, if he does, don't expect to be invited to paint him. I think Uncle Charles has extended himself far enough by including me. These men are granting a courtesy, and they want to be guaranteed a professional result. Now, I know that sounds hard; and I'm not saying that I am deserving of the honor. I just want you to understand that you haven't earned the privilege yet. Oh, some day, Sarah, you will have your chance. But promise me you won't embarrass Uncle Charles with your begging please."
Sarah pressed her lips together and studied Anna's face. Anna's eyes held hers. "I promise," she said reluctantly.
"Good."
"But Uncle Charles let Papa, Raphaelle and Rembrandt come with him to paint George Washington. And Rembrandt was only seven- teen. Remember that?"
"Yes, I thought you would bring that up. But that was altogether different. Uncle Charles served under Washington in the war. So did Papa. Uncle Charles had painted Washington several times before. They were friends. That makes the whole situation different. And while we're remembering. Remember that portrait Rembrandt did; could you do half as well?"
Sarah grimaced. "Oh Anna! You know I couldn't—not yet."
That afternoon the wind rattled the windowpanes in the painting room. Sarah shivered, though the fire burned high, popping and crackling in the fireplace. Anna and Charles showed Sarah their latest portraits. As she admired them, Colonel Johnson came for tea.
He greeted them with a mischievous wink. Hannah served raisin cake and mulled current wine. Richard hesitated when refreshments were offered. "I can't stay long," he said. "I must get back." But as he looked at the cake, his hurry subsided. "A small piece, then."
"What is your rush?" Charles asked.
"The debate in the Committee on Military Affairs. Clay is unrelenting in his attacks on Jackson, but so far it's all rhetoric—no substance."
"I sympathize with Jackson," Charles said, "but surely the President faces a difficult problem, too. How will he ever satisfy Spain, the Congress, and the country in addition to General Jackson? What an impossible task. But I understand Adams is preparing the administration's defense of Jackson."
Richard shuffled his feet and gulped his wine. "Isn't that ironic? John Quincy Adams, a Federalist?"
Sarah pushed forward in her chair. "Won't Jackson come to argue his own cause in Congress? You're close to him. What do you think?"
Richard's mouth formed a one-sided smile. "General Jackson is not afraid of a fight, especially when his military reputation is at stake. But I hear he is sick and demoralized. He risked his life for the country over and over, and his reward is a debate in Congress over whether he should be censured. But if I know my Jackson, he will drag himself out of his sickbed and face the enemy in any arena, even in the House." After speaking, Richard stared into the flames while he sipped his wine. Presently, he rose. Anna got up, too. Richard caught her gaze and smiled. "Anna, don't look so disturbed. Politics has its heavy edge. It can't be all parties and handshaking."
"Politics," Charles said, "like a beautiful landscape, is best viewed from a distance. Under the microscope, one finds a great many hoary creatures."
"True," Richard said with a wry smile. "Well, I must get to the House to rally more support before Clay and Crawford do any more damage. They'd love to dash Jackson's presidential hopes, but I think they underestimate his strength and popularity."
When Richard was gone, the room grew quiet. Anna broke the silence. "Do you think we will remain in Washington long enough for me to take a commission from a lady Richard has recommended me to?" Sarah suspected Anna hated to miss a chance of painting Jackson.
Charles turned, put down his quill."Colonel Johnson thinks Jack son will come, but we can't wait much longer. Still, I do have one more good American to paint before I leave."
"Oh, who?" Anna asked.
"He's an exceptional man, a most exceptional man."
"Tell us." Sarah said.
"Mamout Yarrow. Do you remember him, Anna?"
Anna frowned. "Could you mean that Mohammedan ex-slave of Georgetown, the one who is supposed to be a hundred and thirty-five years old?"
"A hundred and thirty," Charles corrected. "Though some say he's nearer a hundred. Still that's enough for me. He earned and lost a small fortune several times, and he is still active and healthy
