worn and white and tired,
but he laughed her concern lightly off.

"I'll be in earlier tonight," he declared.

"Is the Congressional business very heavy?"

He laughed so hilariously that she felt uncomfortable, which he
observed.

"Oh, no," he answered deftly; "not very." And as they moved toward the
dining-room Mary changed the subject.

"Oh," she exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "There is a man--a colored
man--waiting to see you in the back hall, but I guess he can wait until
after lunch."

They ate leisurely.

"There's going to be racing out at the park this evening," said Harry.
"Want to go?"

"I was going to hear an art lecture at the Club," Mary returned, and
grew thoughtful; for here walked her ghost again. Of course, the Club
was an affair with more of gossip than of intellectual effort, but
today, largely through her own suggestion, an art teacher of European
reputation was going to lecture, and Mary preferred it to the company of
the race track. And--just as certainly--her husband didn't.

"Don't forget the man, dear," she reminded him; but he was buried in his
paper, frowning.

"Look at that," he said finally. She glanced at the
head-lines--"Prominent Negro Politician Candidate for High Office at
Hands of New Administration. B. Alwyn of Alabama."

"Why, it's Bles!" she said, her face lighting as his darkened.

"An impudent Negro," he voiced his disgust. "If they must appoint
darkies why can't they get tractable ones like my nigger Stillings."

"Stillings?" she repeated. "Why, he's the man that's waiting."

"Sam, is it? Used to be one of our servants--you remember? Wants to
borrow more money, I presume." He went down-stairs, after first helping
himself to a glass of whiskey, and then gallantly kissing his wife. Mrs.
Cresswell was more unsatisfied than usual. She could not help feeling
that Mr. Cresswell was treating her about as he treated his wine--as an
indulgence; a loved one, a regular one, but somehow not as the reality
and prose of life, unless--she started at the thought--his life was all
indulgence. Having nothing else to do, she went out and paraded the
streets, watching the people who were happy enough to be busy.

Cresswell and Stillings had a long conference, and when Stillings
hastened away he could not forbear cutting a discreet pigeon-wing as he
rounded the corner. He had been promised the backing of the whole
Southern delegation in his schemes.

That night Teerswell called