staggering blow fell on her, Mrs. Carriswood was in her
dressing-room, peacefully watching Derry unpack a box from Paris, in
anticipation of a state dinner. And Miss Van Harlem, in a bewitching
wrapper, sat on the lounge and admired. Upon this scene of feminine
peace and happiness enter the Destroyer, in the shape of a note from
Tommy Fitzmaurice! Were they going on Beatoun's little excursion to
Alexandria? If they were, he would move heaven and earth to put off a
committee meeting, in order to join them. By the way, he was to get the
floor for his speech that afternoon. Wouldn't Mrs. Carriswood come to
inspire him? Perhaps Miss Van Harlem would not be bored by a little of
it.

It was a well-worded note; as Mrs. Carriswood read it she realized
for the first time how completely Tommy was acclimated in society. She
remembered his plaint years ago, and his awe of "oil paintings" and
"people of culture;" and she laughed half-sadly as she passed the note
over to Miss Van Harlem.

"I presume it is the Alexandria excursion that the Beatouns were talking
about yesterday," she said, languidly. "He wants to show that young
Irishman that we have a mild flavor of antiquity, ourselves. We are to
see Alexandria and have a real old Virginian dinner, including one
of the famous Beatoun hams and some of the '69 Chateau Yquem and the
sacred '47 port. I suppose he will have the four-in-hand buckboard.
'A small party '--that will mean the Honorable Basil Sackville, Mrs.
Beatoun, Lilly Denning, probably one of the Cabinet girls, Colonel
Turner, and that young Russian Beatoun is so fond of, Tommy
Fitzmaurice------"

"Why do you always call Mr. Fitzmaurice Tommy?"--this interruption comes
with a slight rise of color from young Margaret.

"Everybody calls him Tommy in his own town; a politician as popular as
he with the boys is naturally Tommy or Jerry or Billy. They slap him on
the back or sit with an arm around his neck and concoct the ways to rule
us."

"I don't think anyone slaps Mr. Fitzmaurice on the back and calls him
Tommy, NOW," says Margaret, with a little access of dignity.

"I dare say his poor old father and mother don't venture on that
liberty; I wish you had seen them----"

"He has told me about them," says Margaret.

And Mrs. Carriswood's dismay was such that for a second she simply
gasped. Were things so far along that such confessions were made?
Tommy must be very confident to venture; it was shrewd, very shrewd,