to
the government at the breaking out of the war. Now he is very wealthy.
Mrs. Arnold does not approve of me."

Goddard colored hotly as he recalled the conversation of the night
before. "Why not?" he demanded.

"Because she does not like my friendship with her nephew. When they
first came to Washington, the Arnolds lived at the National Hotel, but
last year Mr. Arnold bought a vacant lot on our street, and has built a
large double house with a ballroom, if you please. I believe Mrs.
Arnold is to give her house-warming some time soon. It was she who made
the original remark about having a 'spinal staircase in the back,' and
Doctor Boyd told her it was quite the proper place for it."

"Is Mrs. Bennett a friend of yours?"

"Mrs. Bennett?" echoed Nancy. "She is Mrs. Arnold's shadow. Aunt
Metoaca sees more of her than I do. I somehow don't believe Mrs.
Bennett cares for me. She is quite literary in her tastes, and I hear
is writing a book about Washington. It ought to prove interesting
reading," Nancy's dimples appeared again, "as she imagines every man
she meets is in love with her. Her husband, Colonel Bennett, is
stationed in the quartermaster general's office, and is just as nice as
he can be, and perfectly wrapped up in his pretty wife. They were
married about two years ago. Little is known here of Mrs. Bennett's
antecedents."

"Which way are you going, Miss Newton?" asked Goddard, as they crossed
the street and walked through the Capitol grounds. He looked with
admiration at the stately lines of the building which sheltered the
law-makers, and bared his head to the Stars and Stripes floating lazily
to and fro from the flag poles on each wing of the Capitol. "I can't
help it," with a quick, boyish laugh. "I have seen too many die in
defense of the flag not to salute it on all occasions."

Nancy nodded comprehendingly. "It is everything to have an ideal," she
said softly. "I am going down A Street to see one of Doctor John's
charity patients."

Absorbed in watching his companion, Goddard did not notice the
direction they were walking until Nancy called his attention to an
unpretentious, rambling building standing on the corner of First and A
streets. "Old Capitol Prison," she said, in explanation. "In 1800 it
was a tavern; then after the burning of the Capitol by the British it
was used by both houses of Congress, hence the name, 'Old Capitol.'"

Goddard stopped and inspected the building with interest. As hi