This is how I shall do,” said Peg at last, and after the General and I had waited upon her small profundity for some space; “this shall be my plan. We will have the White House for a reserve, then. The day for our cabinet folk to receive their friends will be Tuesday—the procession begins with the first Tuesday to follow New Year's Day. Our good little Secretary of State has suggested, inasmuch as I am to preside for him, that his house and mine be open only on alternate cabinet days. In short, we will receive together. On one Tuesday he will be at my house; on the next, when my house is closed, I will take stand in his drawing room and receive our guests for him. You know, too, how I am to be the head for what functions occur at the British and Russian legations and act as Lady of the Mansion for our friends, the Viscount Vaughn and Baron Krudener. Thus I begin with a double reception in my house for the good little secretary and myself; then at Krudener's; then at the good little secretary's; and then with the English. After that, we commence again at my own home.”

“And when do you march my White House upon this desperate field?” demanded the General, with much gaiety of mien. Peg's vivacious recount of how she should move her social troops delighted him no little. “In what manner will I be made of use?”

“Why, then,” said Peg, “after the reception at the English house if you will, you may give me a dinner, with a dance in the big East Room?” This was spoken in manner dubious and with the lifting inflection of a request. “Also, though it be much to ask, I could wish mightily for you to come in person to my reception. It would be a most convincing initial.”

“And you doubt my coming?” asked the General, beamingly.

“It would be most unusual for a president,” said Peg, shaking warning head. “The gossips would scarce survive the shock of it.”

“My life,” observed the General, in a most satisfied way, “has been made up of shocks to other folk.”

“But you must consider,” urged Peg, “how your appearance in any one's house would be held a letting down of your dignity. Indeed, in austere quarters, where the regular is as a god, it would be regarded for a no slight rent in your robes.”

“And yet, child, I shall come.” This the General offered in a manner indescribably good. “I have been no man of precedent in my time; I care little for what was, but much for what is presently right. I shall come to your reception; more, I'll stay until you give me leave to go. If to be in the house of my friend, or to show him courtesy who has shown me only favor and good service—if that be to establish a rent in my presidency, I'll even promise to have it a thing of rags and patches before ever I am done.”

“Then you will come!” exclaimed Peg. “Now shall we go bravely through! For, you are to know, so much of social concession or countenance is born of nothing save fear of loss or hope of place, that the herd will collect, bowing and smiling and shining like the sun, wherever you are known to be.”

“These be, truly, most satisfying maps you draw,” remarked the General, quizzically, “and yet I do not see how we are to tell when victory is ours. Now, in war the enemy surrenders or runs away.”

“In the salons,” said Peg, laughing at the General's quaint twists, “triumph turns to the mere question of numbers added to quality. It is a matter of 'Who?' and 'How many?—a count of carriages to your gate. But the query of quality is uppermost. Now, your presence at my house will outweigh the world, should it be so foolish as to gather itself together against us in the camps of the foe.”

“Then you are indeed very safe,” said the General, “since I shall be with you as I've said. Also, you are to have your dinner and that East Room ball to follow, on what day you lay the finger of your pretty preference. Even though I lacked the reason of my affection, I still could do no less for so beautiful an enemy of Calhoun. But you spoke of Van Buren. How did our round little friend go about his proposals of those joint receptions? I have a curiosity as to that argument which should lead him to this kindly wisdom; for, let me remind you, it is a stratagem worthy of a Caesar, and one, besides, to smell most humanly of what is honest and staunch, this phrasing of a situation where your ill-wishers must become his ill-wishers and his friends take on terms of friendship for you. How did Van Buren go upon that proposition, child?”

“In the oddest way, then,” smiled Peg. “He said that because we were both of tavern origin, with sires to keep houses of call, and since there might come proud folk to frown upon us for that, it were a wisest thing, and one to make for the ease of them and us, to hold ever our receptions in common. Folk then might come, or stay away, and all with a prodigious saving of effort, whether of compliment or insult, to every one concerned. But, of course,” said Peg, at the close, her eye a bit wet, “it was only his goodness to do this.”

“Now, I believe nothing of that sort,” declared the General, stoutly. “Child, I do not know by what paths you descend to this modest esteem of yourself, but it in nowise shakes the fact that, with the last of it, you grace and illustrate and honor the best room you enter or the best arm to lean on in the land.”

Thus spoke the gallant General from his heart; and to me it was like milk and honey to only hear him. In the finish he turned his eyes my way.

“And where be your words in this council?” demanded the General. “Have you lost the will to speak?”

Now, I had kept myself mighty quiet since Peg was come back to her throne. For one thing, the simple sight of her, and she friendly, was enough to overflow my cup of happiness; moreover, I owned to some lurking fear of Peg, and imagined how I had but to open my mouth to set her anger again on edge. At any rate, no stone could have said less than did I while Peg and the General held this long parley of the drawing rooms. When now, however, the General aimed at me direct, I was bound to make return.

“Have you no advice for us, then?” repeated the General. “It is not usual for you to so neglect my welfare. Here you permit me to talk ten minutes without once telling me fully and wholly just what I should do.” All this in tones of jesting: “Now you would seem willing that I, and our little girl, too, should go unguided to destruction rather than unstrap your wisdom in our cause. Sir, do you call that the truth of a friend?”

“Perhaps I have no good eyes for these trails,” said I. “Your reception perils and how to foil them are things I have not studied. I would but lose you your course were I to lead you.”

“Mighty diffident,” quoth the General, “and most suddenly abject! And no good eyes, say you? Why, then, you could see a church by daylight, I take it! At the least, you might cheer folk on who propose such deeds of carpet daring as do our little Peg and I.”

With what further raillery the General might have entertained himself I came not to know, for word was brought to him, at this nick, of ones who awaited his coming in the cabinet room. As he went away he called back to Peg, where she still abode in her leathern chair:

“Then it is settled and made. I shall be at your reception, to the grinding shock of gossips and the disorder of my presidential robes; also, you are to dine and dance in the White House whenever you sweetly will.”

“Where should have lodged more kindness for me than I now find here?” cried Peg, when the General was quite gone forth of the room. Then raising her warm eyes to mine where I sat wondering, now cold, now hot, would she go, or would she stay to talk with me, she gazed upon me with a steady, friendly look, which, for all it lacked of distance or any spirit of resentment, yet bred within me a feeling of confusion. I knew not how to meet it, and I could find no word to say. “And now,” said Peg, after a pause, but very kindly, “let us have a fair moment of friendship. No,” she went on, stopping me with her hand as I was beginning to stumble forward upon an apology for my ill words against Eaton, “no; let me talk. You have no genius of explanation; you would speak only to worsen things. Besides, you dwell in the same darkness now you ever did.”

“And it was to say that,” I interjected, for I was bound to some remark, “I started to speak. It was to tell you how I had no close knowledge of your husband and owned no right of information to criticise him.”

“Watch-dog!” cried Peg, motioning with little hands for silence, “watch-dog, will you have done?”

There was something of pain and reproach in this to stop me as though I had been planet-struck. Nor could I determine Peg's feeling, nor catch the color of it in a least of shade. For the most, I felt amazement, and was set back by the plain agitation of her, an agitation greater than was to have been looked for in one who came solely to pardon me those trespasses against good decent taste.

Peg called herself together with a shake of the head that had for one piquant effect the whipping of her shock of curls about her face, and leaving them a tangle to fall forward on her shoulders.

“Hear me,” went on Peg, brightening, and peering out on me in an arch way through her curls; “you are guilty of no wrong save the wrong of incredible dullness. Therefore you are to offer no defence. Even your dullness should have been a virtue in my eyes, since it spoke only of your honor, and told of the lofty place I hold in your regard.” Now I could see how Peg was at least accepting all I had said, and not one part only, and would give me credit for a compliment to herself, while she refused my strictures upon Eaton. “Observe, then; I have resolved we two shall be good friends. Better friends than before, because better to understand one another. And our trouble was my fault, too, not yours. Nor had I one right foot to go upon.”

“Now, that is the maddest charity of error!” cried I.

“It is not, I say,” returned Peg, her eyes beginning to shine with the first flavor of my opposition. “I say it is not. You had done nothing, said nothing; while I—why, then I hated you for having eyes of lead. But we will amend that.” Here Peg turned pleasantly brisk. “We have been too much abroad with mistakes. We have made you too old and me too young in our dealings. There shall be a change, and you and I hereafter are to consider ourselves as folk of even years, each with the other. It is but right, watchdog, for though you have no learning on that point, it is none the less true that a woman of twenty-two is very old and very wise, while a man of forty-four is for his youth and guilelessness, or I should have said dullness, a creature insupportable. Yes, watch-dog, for your ignorance you are insupportable; but I forgive you, since it is your only defect.” And here Peg recovered her old gay smile, and with that my heart came home again to peace.

“Well,” I said, when Peg would let me be heard, “I make no secret that I am over happy with this new prospect of your friendship. It was night while I thought you would not forgive me my offence.”

“Say no more of it,” cried Peg, sharply, putting her fingers in her ears. At the same time I caught the milky shine of her leopard teeth. “Say no more, or I shall go back to my anger as a refuge. Speak of something else! Why did you turn my chair out of door?—my poor chair that had done no harm!” Peg caressed the arms of it with her palms as though it were alive and could know and feel her petting. “You did it because you hated me.”

“No, forsooth!” I protested. “Now if I had only hated you it might have stayed till the fall of doom. But I could not bear the leering, mocking look of it, and me deserted; it would seem ever to brew for me a cup of loneliness. And so for that I thrust it from the room.”

“Why, then! and that was it!” cried Peg. “There you see, now, I can be a fool as well as you.”

“But why did you avoid me?” I asked, in my turn. “Surely, even for my dull clumsiness, there was need of no such hard reproof. Come, now, why did you stay away? And why did you run from me when I went across to the square that day to beg a word from you?”

“Because I hated you,” returned Peg, with a self-satisfied air. “I hate you now, watchdog, when I pause and think. You had made me suffer, and I thought to see you suffer in return. And really, watch-dog, you did suffer; and it pleased me much.”

“I had not thought you were made with such a palate for revenge,” said I, a bit stricken with these words of cruelty. “And yet, if it so pleasure you to give me pain, why then, go on.”

“Don't, watch-dog, don't,” returned Peg, in a voice whimsically between crying and laughing. “Only a little more of that and you shall have my tears. But can't you see how your suffering was a most tender compliment? I declare to you that when I would go by your door, the look of grief to weigh upon your brow was better to me than a smile. The mere memory of it would keep my heart warm throughout a winter's day.”

“It must indeed be a topsy-turvy nature,” said I, “that finds its pleasure in the woe of friends.”

“No recriminations, watch-dog,” retorted Petif, in a high vein. “If your dullness have no limits, at the least my patience has. Now where did you go when I avoided you in the square, and you were too much the coward to lift the knocker of my door? Fie! such another fawn-heart does not roam existence! Where did you go, I say?”

“Well, I would give that vine of yours a tree to clamber on and lift it off the ground.”

“And did you,” demanded Peg, eagerly. “The gods ruled otherwise,” I returned. “There was no tree to be near or possible for your vine; it must live and die on the ground.” Peg sat quite still and never a response. As I looked on her, somewhat with wonder, I concede, two great drops welled from her eyes and fell down upon her hands.

“Now I would like to hear,” said Peg at last, her voice in a twitter of pain, “does ever one get what one prays for in this world of ours? Would there be such a word as contentment, now? However, I am glad, watchdog, your good heart took you to my vine. But let it go; let it all go! Let us be friends; and if the day can't be for us all sunshine, let us own as few clouds as we may. Now, we will forget the past, and start our friendship out anew. We will bring nothing to remind us of days when I was young and cunning and you were old and dull.”

At this, I involuntarily looked for the mark of Peg's leopard tooth, where, round and white, it stared up at me from my hand.

“Ah, yes!” said Peg, softly, “I had forgotten. There is that sign between us that shall last through time. No, we can never forget.” Then, after musing a moment: “But we may change the subject and say the worst of it. You heard me lay out my reception purposes. What do you think of my plans?”

“Tell me first one thing,” said I. “When it was so much pleasure to behold me in grief for your absence, why, then, did you come back?” That speech of Peg's was like a dagger in my heart, and I would have her draw it out with some kindness of explanation. “Why did you come back, then?”

“The mere sorrow of it brought me back, watch-dog,” said Peg, and her words were music in my ear. “It came finally to where I would sooner suffer than have you suffer. That is the woman nature of me. The sheer truth is, I've been on my way back to you for days. When I followed you in the square, it was with a full purpose of taking your arm and walking with you as in the old time.”

“And why didn't you?”

“Just as I would have done so, I was caught up in a little swirl of hatred which carried me away from your side. It didn't last the moment, but by the time it was gone the chance had taken flight. There is one thing I should tell you, however; at such a time you must not palter with a woman.” Peg's tones were uplifted to the pitch severe. “Do you know what you should have done that day? You should have seized me by the shoulder as you did that spy who dogged us; you should have stopped me flush and full. Without excuse or explanation or pretense of remorse for what had been, you should have made me take your arm. You might have found, had you so willed it, that for all my high head I would follow you like a dog.”

“Take you by the shoulder!” cried I, somewhat aroused to a spirit of terror. “And that would have been polite, indeed, and the act of a true gentleman! I can see myself seizing you by the shoulder!”

“For all that,” contended Peg, with much candor, “that is what you should have done. Remember: in treating with a woman, while one should be a gentleman—your word—one must be a man. There is this, too, about a woman with the man she would love. She likes warfare but she does not want to win; victory would only embarass your woman. Her instinct is rather for protection than to protect, and to find him on whom she leans weaker than herself might alarm her love into flight. And as for that politeness you tell of, it is an artifice, like a dress or a house, and good only within a limit. There be occasions when politeness to a man is a fair thing thrown away; also, there be occasions when politeness to a woman is nothing better than a waste of justice. Watch-dog, you should have pocketed the 'gentleman' for use on a languid day; you should have been all 'man.' You should have seized me by the shoulder; you should have made me go or stay, or talk or stand mute, as you willed. It was for that”—and Peg gave me this gravely, like some confidant Pythoness sure of her Apollo-inspired word—“it was for that, watch-dog, you were made the stronger of us two.”

Now here was a pretty word of caution! It was as the General once said: one had only to listen, and lo! one would hear ever the savage stirring about in Peg.

“There is one thing whereof I was cheated,” said I, after a brief silence, and seeking to give our talk a slighter, if not a direction of more reason. “You were to give me lessons in yourself. I looked forward to no little improvement from such good teaching, and when I was made to go missing it I could feel a plain loss to myself.”

“And perhaps now,” observed Peg, with her half-merry glance, “I was giving you a lesson in Peg for every moment of that frowning time.” Then, as if in reply to my look of bewilderment: “No, watch-dog I went too fast in those threats to expound myself. You are in no sort prepared for so tremendous a course of study.”

“Wherein do I lack now?”

“Why, you flounder in abyssmal ignorance of yourself. To study another with a hope of light, one should first own some liberal knowledge of one's self. To have gone about to teach you that difficult lesson of Peg, you, who are as unaware of yourself as any bush or tree or tuft of grass, would have been as truly wise, and a task well worth one's while, as would be a discussion of Moore with that savage of the woods who has yet to hear of the alphabet. However, we will rest content with you as you are, oh, watch-dog! oh, slave of Peg, wearing her mark! The more, for that your splendid ignorance of both yourself and me has to be its characteristic, a white, high beauty like unto some snow-capped peak—safe, too, since inaccessible. And now, because I have stayed long; and because we are good friends again; and because we will infallibly quarrel should I remain, I think, watch-dog, I shall go home.”

And so Peg went away, singing a little song which was no song but like the whistle of some thrush, leaving me in a calm of peace; nor did I fail to remember how Peg's tune, when she departed, was the earliest music upon her lips since ever she would be in anger with me for those ill opinions against Eaton.

There was no long time given me to think on Peg and her whims of temper, black and white, for Noah was with me briskly on the tail of her going away. Noah brought with him that Blair who had come in deference to my note, to be the rival of Duff Green and organize the Globe as a death-stab to Duff's Telegraph. I had met Blair before, and liked him; most of all was he a favorite of the General, for his pen was fed of fire and the heart of his friendship was like the loyal heart of a dog. In person, Blair was a slender, sickly man, but with a great head on his shoulders, and strange feverish eyes that shone like jewels. He was not unlike the General; only the latter stood vastly taller, and, while Blair was as some fire to blaze and sparkle and burn, the General would be more that hurricane of wind, bridled of no man, sweeping flat as a field of turnips everything to stand in the way.

“Here is a delicate question,” said Noah, with his grin of the cynic. “The department folk will give our friend, Blair, no public printing; it goes all to Duff. That should be stopped, since your public advertising—I speak from my place as an editor—is for your newspaper as the breath in its body.”

“And what would you propose by way of cure for that felon perversity of our folk of the departments who will still send printing to the recreant Duff?” This I put laughingly, to be abreast of the lightness of Noah.

“Surely,” said Blair, speaking with a kind of eagerness natural to him, and which ran red-hot throughout all he did; “surely, the president must make no personal interference. Were he to order printing out of one paper and into another, the opposite side would use it for a club against him to the last day of his career.”

“But there is a way,” said Noah. “We may have advantage of the mean fears of our folk of place who are ever prompt to read a threat against themselves. Such egotists do they grow to be that, following a decade of office holding, it may not so much as thunder but your agitated desk-man knows it at once for some plot of heaven's hand to snatch him from his pap.”

“How would you approach these fears with an appeal?” I asked.

“And there could be nothing easier,” quoth Noah, “while missing every word that might look like an order from the White House. You have but to issue a request, addressed to each who is in control of any least of printing, to send to the president with every month a full report of what advertisements he has dispensed and to what imprints. There you have it in your claw; after such notice not one line will go to Duff, but all to Blair. With the one stone you kill two birds; the Telegraph is destroyed while the Globe in its fortunes is made beyond a chance.”

“Your mighty proper suggestion will be adopted,” said I. “The request you speak of goes forth this very day.”

When Blair had departed the scene to look after the daily fortunes of his paper, Noah and I, as was much and frequently our case, settled to a mouthful of party gossip. We had not run far, however, when my Jim appeared with a word from the General to meet him in his personal workshop on some trivial concern.

“D'Marse Gen'ral trees Jim by d'winder,” said that worthy black man, “an' tells him to ask you-all, Marse Major, to come squanderin' along down to his room. He allows, d'Marse Gen'ral does, how he's got letters from home you might like to see.”

“And how is your 'Marse Gen'ral'?” said Noah, for “the red-head Jew gentleman,” as Jim ever referred to him, was fond of making Jim talk. “How does your 'Marse Gen'ral' carry himself these winter days?”

“Mighty toler'ble an' tranquil, thankee, sah!” replied Jim; “mighty toler'ble an' tranquil. Jim on'y wishes he himse'f was feelin' half so good. But Jim's got a mis'ry in his back, an' d'rheumatics in his laigs an' shoulders ontwell he can't but jes' make out to hobble 'round. Yassir; them rheumatics leaves Jim like a fly in a saucer of m'lasses; he gets about plumb slow.”

Jim furnished a most doleful air to be the frame for this piece of news; one might have thought him some flame-enveloped martyr.

“At any rate,” said Noah, in tones of greatest sympathy, “you are fortunate, Jim, since now you are an invalid, in having such a kind, forbearing master as your 'Marse Major' here.”

“D'Marse Major aint so mighty bad,” observed Jim, with the face of one who considers deeply. “Course he has his spells. Thar's times when he's sort o' amiable, d'Marse Major is; an' then Jim nacherally takes to him like a honeysuckle to a front porch. Then thar's other days when Jim quits him an' goes streakin' it for d'tall grass. Them's d'times when d'Marse Major takes to t'arin' about loose, an' carryin' all befo' him like a b'ar in a hawg-pen.”

Having disposed of the letter which had given the loquacious Jim that delay required for these important disclosures, I put an end to them by carrying Noah away to the General's room. He would expostulate and hold back; but I made him come with me on the plea of how the General had asked to talk with him of that coming Nullification banquet to be held at the Indian Queen.

“True, he has heard it from me,” said I, “but what then? You know how folk are. He would hear it from you first-hand.”

While I was running over the General's mails from Tennessee, that eminent person and Noah waded forth into deep and animated converse.

“I am rather glad than otherwise,” said the General, lighting the while the usual friendly pipe, “for that treason dinner our Calhoun clique would plan. I shall go; should they ask it, I'll even give them a toast. I will light a torch for them; I would be the last to have it said I let folk go blundering to a gibbet in the dark.”

“You recall,” remarked Noah, “how zealous were certain influences for that Florida post, and how they would have it go to one Westfall?”

“The man Westfall,” retorted the General, “was an utter weakling. He never would have done for such a place. The Florida governorship is of consequence; its duties call for one of force. I have thought on a man for it, but the time has not come. The present incumbent does fairly well for an Adams selection.”

“That weakness of Westfall to which you refer,” said Noah, “was, I take it, no slight merit in the minds of those who stood by the elbow of his hope. It was a part of the Nullification scheme, the putting forward of Westfall.”

“In what sort?” asked the General. “I know how Calhoun desired him, for Duff Green told us so much when we were not a week in town.”

“Westfall's success for the place would have linked to the Vice-President the richest, strongest elements in Pennsylvania. Then there is Florida itself—two-thirds Spanish and by no means in love with the balance of this country. With a weak governor in St. Augustine, and one who owed his crown to our Vice-President, what should be simpler, in the event of secession in South Carolina, than to count on Floridian men and money for the venture?”

“They will do as well without their Westfall,” commented the General. “Mayhap they will do better, since had they succeeded for him, it might hereafter have given their rashness inspiration, and turned them gallows-ripe. One thing sure: let them once rebel against the law—let them but rise in Calhoun's state to the law's defiance—and I will burn them from the earth. They shall be destroyed root and stalk and standing grass, with the reptiles that crawl between. Their leaders shall swing for it so surely as my name is Jackson or there's such a word as 'President' in the land.”

Here I come near to the first true social test to be put upon our Peg, and that, you will know, was the reception which she would give as a cabinet lady at her own home on the Georgetown side of the President's Square. And now, when I am driven by stress of this tale to furnish you with a handful of hints or little twigs of description concerning the business, I write as though with fetters on my wrists. It is because I have no salon learning, and was never taught your lessons of chandeliers and wax-lights and orchestras and tables spread with elegance and palms and flowers and folk brilliant on evening parade, formidably engaged, each with a part like people in a play, in bringing off one of those encounters where well dressed men and women meet to crowd each other and call the trial a function. If it were to be a battle or even some quiet-lying landscape with its stretch of river, and a forest to fringe the banks, and mayhap a mountain chain with its plushy dress of pines to the background, I might not come on so haltingly. But this, as it were, is to lay a fence of stone—and that, you are to witness, means a journey full of backaches—to be here piling one word upon another for the story of a drawing-room three hours.

Van Buren was himself Peg's partner for this reception—his own doors closed, as Peg explains in rearward pages when she talks with the General. It would be then, a double reception, and both the State and the War Departments to stand thereof the social sponsors.

Word had crept abroad how the General himself planned a place among the callers, and at the grave tidings Duff Green, in his paper, was driven to extremes of frantic ink over the proposed lowering of the presidency to cabinet levels, which latter the disturbed Duff would seem to think were common, even if they were not bad.

“The White House,” cried Duff, in his shocked columns, “should not be taken down from that high place of elevation in which our late president was pleased to leave it.”

“Truly, an excellent thought!” observed the General, “to set Adams before me for a model! Why, man! from his purchase of the rogue Clay down to the last measure to meet the flourish of his pen and be made a law thereby, I call it patriotism to turn my back on every position Adams occupied, and the very essence of right to undo all he did. Me to follow Adams! I should as soon think of emulating Billy Weatherford and his Creeks.”

“But why stand over me,” said I, “with all this arm tossing and threatening declamation? It is your Duff Green and not I who would thus drive you to an Adams example.”

“Well,” said the General, somewhat subdued by this thought, “you at least are here and I must vent myself on some one.”

While both the General and I lived in a deal of fog concerning such coils, neither of us was torn of doubt as to the certainty of Peg's triumph. Vaughn and Krudener, for the favor of Van Buren, would lead up the legation folk as bell-sheep lead a flock; the military element was bound to Peg's chariot-wheel by merest war department bonds; withal, the General's presence alone would mean a multitude, and that of gaudiest feather, for it asked no skill of society to know how that same impulse of self-interest was ever at work to move it, as much as might be said of any conspiracy of roughest politics. The General as the present source of things temporal would be courted; and to that sycophantish end your swarming brood of courtiers would be found tagging at his back though he were to make a sulphurous pilgrimage and seek the pit itself.

There came one thing, however, to rub my fur against the grain; but this was of the week prior to our Tuesday of Peg's reception. It is the great marvel how it will ever be the slight affair to ruffle one. I have known a rascal to crack off his pistol at me for a no better reason than strong drink; and yet beyond a busy interest to stun him and prevent a return of his experiment, and so settle safety in my favor, my bosom went as rippleless of wrath as any millpond. On the other side, the idle whistle of some fellow, and him outside the house and of no knowledge even of my being, has sent me off on storms of rage.

This it was to nag me into irritation. There arrived one day a mighty casket of jewels for Peg—diamonds and rubies they were, and ones a princess might have worn with honor. They were a gift from Eaton; for that secretary was notably rich and owned the treasure-chests of an emperor.

Peg said naught of these trinkets, whether to the General or to me, nor did she show them. But since they came in from New York, employing for their safety certain armed guardians of express, the thing could be called no secret. Moreover, Eaton himself would probably be the last to smother the story of these chains and bracelets and brooches and coronets and flashing whatnot, since for what else did he buy them save self-love and to deck Peg out as one decks out a horse on gala days. That man never loved Peg; it was a mark of sentiment beyond him. He had a pride of her as of a gem or a picture, and wore her beauty as one wears a decoration.

But he no more knew Peg, no more loved Peg, than cud-cattle know and love the stars above their stolid heads. Her praise would ring sweet to his ear, yes; her loveliness and the bright glory of her eyes would lighten his face. Also, the moon will light you and shine again on the face of that chance-hollowed mud-hole which the rains have filled and the swine enjoyed.

It is but truth to say that my resentment of these jewels to Peg gave me a pause of uneasiness. It was not the little fact of their existence which bayed me; it was not that I went pricked as though by nettles because of these gewgaws; that was not it. But why should I be pricked at all? Other folk would bring diamonds to their wives or sweethearts, and you meet none who owned to less excitement or a colder interest thereover than myself. Why, then, should these stir my pulse and set my anger to a trot? It were indeed a thing most passing strange, and one whereof I was bound to find the bottom if I called myself an honest man.

The question of my anger for Peg's jewels hung about me like lead, I tell you; for to myself I made free confession of that wrath and would hide nothing of it from my conscience. I was stout to drag myself to the bar, and to sit in trial over my own heart. Was it love of Peg to move me? The General had told me how I had been swept away in love for her from the first; but that was his jest and the bantering humor of him at the time. Was I in love with Peg? And if not, then wherefore fly to arms for that Eaton would hang the common gifts of man to wife about her charms and strive for her delight? That was the question I held before my soul's eyes and shook it for an answer.

In a trice the riddle was replied to; the reasons of my anger unrolled before me like a scroll. It was not that I loved Peg; it was my certain sureness how Eaton himself was master of no such true sentiment, nor one worthy of the word. As I have said, he but held her—being below a better thought—to adorn his vanity; he would wrap her in his riches in the vulgarity of a boast. Peg was as the feather to his hat, the jewel to his hilt; he trapped her in brilliants just as he drunk from cut-glass. And knowing Peg as I knew her, and with a deep appreciation of her worth, was it miracle, or must my heart be charged of crime, because my brow would flush to see her thus abased and set to nurse so gross a self-esteem? Besides, it fell as a blow upon one's better taste, since to embellish Peg with such earthenware was indeed to paint a lily and gild gold.

It was true, I so much resented these jewels, and they so bit my feeling in advance, that I went at wits' end to fish forth some excuse for being absent from that reception and thus avoid their tawdry splendors. But when I moved the matter, the General was set like iron that I should go.

Were it the General alone to cross my temper for this, I should have run over him, no doubt, and had my way for it. But next stood Peg in the path. I no more than breathed a half-suggestion of possible conditions to arise and keep me from the house, when she glowed on me with a look so gently pleading that, without waiting for her to speak, I straightway told her I would come.

“And I am glad, watch-dog,” said Peg, simply. “I could give myself no reason, save a reason that would burn like fire, why you should stay away.”

It should be noted, perhaps, that the magical tale of those gems ran in and out of the mouth of gossip for prior days, and I doubt not a purpose to look on them—for the feminine eye is caught with glitter like a blackbird, which hollow fowl will think of nothing for a week on end save how to steal a bit of broken glass—brought as many to Peg's reception as did the presence of the General.

And here, being now upon the brink, I fairly ask you what should be the use of setting forth how the carriages rolled to the gate; and how Peg stood like some flower beneath the light of a chandelier—for these receptions were in the evening—with her “good little secretary” by her side, welcoming the throngs to press forward in her honor? The Calhouns were not there; and, indeed, the folk from the Vice-President's own state would be obviously absent. The other cabinet folk—that Calhoun trio, the ladies Branch and Berrien and Ingham—did not appear; but then they were upon certain similar receptions of their own.. However, there came scores to have their places. There were the lion Webster, the courtly Vaughn, Krudenerwith red heels to his shoes, red waistcoat, and earrings to his ears, Noah with his black, dangerous eyes, and a high-caste multitude, besides, from Senate and House and Supreme Court and Legations, and those two score other lofty lairs of your utter capital fashion. There arose the never-ceasing gride of carriages as they came and went incessantly upon the frozen gravel; there crawled the endless file of hand-shaking folk, the grave and the gay, the young and the old, the beautiful and the ugly, the good and the bad—this last since there stood no process of elimination to separate the sheep from the goats where all who would might come. And Peg went through it with a sweet, grave grace; and even surly Envy submitted to the verdict of a vast success and one to fix Peg's standing beyond distrust, and mark itself, besides, as the hopeless Waterloo of her every last ill-wisher.

The General, bright of eye and unbending as a bayonet, was there early to remain late.

“I have enlisted for the campaign,” said he, “and I shall stay while I hear of one foe to be in the field.”

Never had I known him to look better, and the old-time deference wherewith he would be about Peg so that all might see his regard for her was like a page from chivalry.

And now I must tell a tale on myself, and show how this was to twist into a happy hour for me and I be harrassed by no sordid hatefulness of those jewels. I had, for my shame be it told, gone to my place in the line of calling folk with a reluctance that bound my breast like a rope. I could scarce breathe for it. The file moved slowly, but I held my head high, and, being a tall man, looked easily over Peg and did not once rest my eyes upon her.

I would escape the canker of those barbarous rubies and diamonds.

It was the tones of a woman, who had Peg by her hand, to rivet my interest.

“Why! where now be those diamonds I heard so much about?” The voice was of the empty tin-pan kind that tells of society and mighty little else. “Where be those diamonds? Or was the story false?”

Then I heard Peg in cold retort to our she-savage and her coarse greed to look on diamonds.

“Why, I believe I have a few handsful somewhere about the house,” said Peg. “If it be those you are come to see, I shall have pleasure in directing you to my maid.”

Now when quite close I bent my slow eyes upon our little Peg. There she stood, a lamp of beauty! and never the sign of your diamonds or rubies about her—nothing of ornament save a rose my Jim had brought, and the little coral of my mother's which Peg took from the cabinet on that summer day. As she offered me her hand, she lifted up her face to mine. She gave me no word but the red blood showed in her cheek a match for my coral. Then her eyes fell; and next, with a heart full to foolishness of a joy that was like a mystery, I passed on to walk the air and join the General.