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Taft's illness lasted several days. Butt's entries begin on May 1, 1909 [9e]:
The President is quite unwell. When I reported at his office this morning he looked up very languidly and said:
"I am afraid I am not fit to play this afternoon, Archie. I never felt so sick before. There is some work I must do, but I am going to bed as
soon after as I can and will remain there until I am better."
He really looked all tuckered out and as pale as a ghost. When he started for Alexandria yesterday he was feeling done up and asked me to feel his
pulse. He did not seem to have any fever and he thought possibly he had only taken cold. But to-day he is decidedly sick.
The next day, May 2, Butt wrote [9e]:
The President is still sick. I think he is quite knocked out. I went to the White House this morning to see him and found him in the study, sitting
before a big blazing fire, looking thoroughly worn and tuckered out. When he gets sick he looks it. I felt very much alarmed, seeing his great form
utterly relaxed, his eyes heavy, and his skin very white. He could hardly articulate, his throat is so swollen. When I asked him if he felt well
enough to go out, he said he did not.
"Take a holiday, Archie, and enjoy yourself," he said with a wan smile.
This is the first time he has ever intimated to me that he realized he was keeping me pretty well on the go.
On May 3rd, Butt wrote [9f]:
The President is slightly better this morning. He came over to the office for awhile, but returned early to the house to bury himself in his study. He balked at the last moment last night and did not go to the [Admiral] Cowles' to dinner, and Mrs. Taft had to go without him.
On the morning of May 4 the day's plan included [9g]:
We ride this afternoon for a half hour. The physician will not permit him to do more, and he must go at a jog.
But in the evening Butt wrote [9h]:
The President tried to pose [for the portrait-painter] for a little while, but he was very tired and
very weak. He fell asleep twice while standing up, and sat in a chair for a minute and was sound asleep.
While Mrs. Taft seems to be growing younger, he seems to be growing so much older. I looked at his
face in repose and saw lines there, deep, deep lines, which I had never noticed before.
Of course we did not go riding. He soon went upstairs to rest and I remained with the artist,
helping her clean the mess she made.
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