m its rim when I was a young fellow. And now tell me--how is our
genius? What a master-stroke is his last--the whole country is ringing
with it. How did you get hold of him?"

"Very easily. He wrote me he was passing through on his way to Richmond,
and you naturally popped into my head as the proper man to sit next
him," replied St. George in his hearty manner.

"And you were on top of him, I suppose, before he got out of bed. Safer,
sometimes," and he smiled significantly.

"Yes, found him at Guy's. Sit here, Kennedy, where the air is cooler."

"And quite himself?" continued the author, settling himself in a chair
that St. George had just drawn out for him.

"Perhaps a little thinner, and a little worn. It was only when I told
him you were coming, that I got a smile out of him. He never forgets you
and he never should."

Again Todd answered the knocker and Major Clayton, Richard Horn, and Mr.
Latrobe joined the group. The major, who was rather stout, apologized
for his light seersucker coat, due, as he explained, to the heat,
although his other garments were above criticism. Richard, however,
looked as if he had just stepped out of an old portrait in his dull-blue
coat and white silk scarf, St. George's eyes lighting up as he took in
the combination--nothing pleased St. George so much as a well-dressed
man, and Richard never disappointed him, while Latrobe, both in his
dress and dignified bearing, easily held first place as the most
distinguished looking man in the room.

The Honorable Prim now stalked in and shook hands gravely and with much
dignity, especially with Mr. Kennedy, whose career as a statesman he
had always greatly admired. St. George often said, in speaking of this
manner of the Scotchman's, that Prim's precise pomposity was entirely
due to the fact that he had swallowed himself and couldn't digest the
meal; that if he would once in a while let out a big, hearty laugh it
might split his skin wide enough for him to get a natural breath.

St. George kept his eyes on Harry when the boy stepped forward and shook
Prim by the hand, but he had no need for anxiety. The face of the young
prince lighted up and his manner was as gracious as if nothing had ever
occurred to mar the harmony between the Seymour clan and himself.

Everybody had seated themselves now--Malachi having passed around a
course of palm-leaf fans--Clayton, Latrobe, and Horn at one open window
overlooking the tired trees--it was in the