a pilgrimage to the home of George Washington!"

"You don't care what happens in the Senate Chamber to-day--"

"No--I don't."

The boy's lazy figure slowly rose, mounted the steps, paused and looked
down into the tense eager young face.

"You really want to know," he began slowly, "why speaking tires me now?"

"Yes--why?"

"Because it's a waste of breath--we're going to fight!"

The girl flushed with excitement.

"Who told you? What have you heard? Who said so?"

A dreamy look in the boy's eyes deepened.

"Nobody's told me. I just know. It's in the air. A wild duck knows when
to go north. A bluebird knows when to move south. It's in the air.
That's the way I know--" his voice dropped. "Let's go to Mt. Vernon and
spend the day, Jennie--"

The girl looked up sharply. The low persuasive tones were unmistakable.

The faintest flush mantled her cheeks.

"No--I wouldn't miss those speeches for anything. You promised to take
me to the Senate gallery. Come on."

With a quick bound the boy scaled the next flight of steps and looked
down at her laughing:

"All right, why don't _you_ come on!"

With a frown she sprang up the stone stairs and he caught her step with
a sudden military salute. They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"What's the matter with you to-day, Dick Welford?"

"Why, Miss Jennie Barton?"

"I never saw you quite so foolish."

"Maybe it's because I never saw you quite so pretty--"

The little figure stiffened with dignity.

"That will do now, sir--"

"Yessum!"

She threw him a look of quiet scorn as they picked their way through the
piles of building material for the unfinished dome of the Capitol and
mounted the steps.

Barely half past seven o'clock and the crowds were pouring into the
Senate Chamber, its cloak rooms and galleries. Within thirty minutes
after they had found seats opposite the diplomatic gallery every inch of
space in the great hall was jammed and packed.

Southern women and their escorts outnumbered the others five to one. The
Southern wing of official Washington was out in force.

The tense electric atmosphere was oppressive.

The men and women whose eager anxious faces looked down on the circular
rows of senatorial chairs and desks were painfully conscious that they
were witnessing the final scene of a great historical era.

What the future might hold God alone could know. Their fathers had
dreamed a beautiful dream--"_E Pluribus Unum_"--one out of many