h," said Deb. "I'm little, and I ask questions, but I'm not crooked!
Will Mr. Lewis Rand ever come to Fontenoy, Jacqueline?"

"You are going to wear your blue gown to the dancing class," said
Jacqueline. "Unity is going to wear her yellow jaconet, and I shall wear
white. I will make you a wreath of syringa like stars. And you may wear
your gloves."

"Oh-h!" breathed Deb. "And my cornelian ring--and the flowered
scarf--and--and your fan, Jacqueline?"

"Yes," said Jacqueline. "I am tired this morning, Deb. The sunlight is
so strong. I think I'll go darken my room, and lie down upon my bed."

"Does your head ache?"

"Yes, my head," said Jacqueline, and went into the house.

CHAPTER IV

THE TWO CANDIDATES

The town, established forty years before this April morning, had been
named for a Princess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, lately become Queen of
England. During the Revolution it had been the scene of a raid of
Tarleton's and a camp of detention for British prisoners. It was the
county seat to which three successive presidents of the United States
must travel to cast their votes; and somewhat later than the period of
this story it was to rub elbows with a great institution of learning. No
city even in our own time, it was, a hundred years ago, slight enough in
size to suit the genius for tempered solitude characteristic of a
tobacco-growing State.

A few dwelling-houses of frame and brick rose from an emerald mist of
gardens, and there were taverns, much at the service of all who came to
town with money in their purse. The Swan allured the gentlefolk of the
county, the coach-and-four people, Jehus of light curricles, and riders
of blooded horses. The Eagle had the stage-coach patronage, and thrice a
week blew a lusty horn. Besides the inns and the dwelling-houses there
were stores and a half-built church, the Court House, and the shady
Court House yard.

For a great part of the time, the Court House, the centre of gravity for
the county, appeared to doze in the sunshine. At stated intervals,
however, it awoke, and the drowsy town with it. Once awake, both became
very wide awake indeed. Court days doubled the population; an election
made a beehive of the place.

It was the fourth Wednesday in April, and election day. A man was to be
sent to the House of Delegates at Richmond. All likelihood was upon the
side of the candidate of the Democrat-Republicans, but the Federalists
had a fighting chance. There were