d deal of intimacy
between Tudor Place and "Red Top" in those days.

The only football I ever heard of being played at Tudor Place was by a
team of which my youngest brother was a member. They had nowhere to
play, so he walked up there one day, and being a very engaging young man
of about ten years, with big, blue eyes and a charming smile, he asked
the old lady for permission, which she gave. She used to sit by the long
window in the parlor and watch them with great interest and pleasure.
Some other boys thought they would like the same privilege and asked for
it, but she told me she always asked, "Are you a friend of my little
cousin?" Only his friends could play there.

Mrs. Kennon lived all her long and active life at Tudor Place, with the
exception of two brief periods. The first was the year and a half when
she was living at the Washington Navy Yard with her husband while he was
stationed there. And the second was when her daughter was at boarding
school in Philadelphia, just before the Civil War, and she leased the
place to Mr. Pendleton, a Representative in Congress from Virginia. Of
course, after the secession of that State, Mr. Pendleton left Washington
City--but very hurriedly. Mrs. Kennon heard that her home was to be
taken over by the United States government to be used as a hospital so
she hastened back and occupied it herself. She took as boarders several
Federal officers on the one condition that the affairs of the war should
not be discussed.

The last time I saw her was not many months before her death, sitting in
a chair in her bedroom and very, very feeble. When I told her good-bye,
she kept saying something to me over and over, which I couldn't
understand. Finally I leaned down very close, and heard, "Be a good
girl." I was then the mother of two children, but to her, just a little
girl and the daughter of my father and mother, of whom she was very
fond.

Opposite Tudor Place, where now is a twin apartment house, was until the
nineteen-twenties a simple old brick house somewhat like the old Mackall
house on Greene (29th) Street, only minus a portico. When I knew it it
was the home of the Philip Darneilles--and I remember hearing my mother
say, "But Mrs. Darneille was a Harry!" Which meant nothing to me until I
looked up the title to this place, and there I found that all this land
went right back to Harriot Beall, Mrs. Elisha O. Williams, one of the
three daughters of Brooke Beall, who was among