"The navy, of course," Miss Evarts corrected herself, letting fall a
lump of sugar and following it with an attenuated rivulet of cream.
"Just a drop, as usual?"
"Did you read the President's proclamation?" asked a young girl in a
gray picture hat. "Wasn't it splendid?"
"Mr. Ralston will probably write the next one," interjected another.
"No, only correct the proof," amended the hostess.
"And point it with 'Maxims'?" ventured the Vokes, now restored to
complete good humor.
"Very sweet of you, Mrs. Vokes," said Ralston, recognizing the
artificial dove of theatrical peace.
"You leave very soon, don't you, colonel?" asked Miss Evarts. "Is your
kit-bag ready?"
"Yes, we leave by the Pennsylvania, at seven o'clock. The armory's a
perfect bedlam. It looks as if every man in New York had collected all
his worldly goods and chattels and dumped them on the tan bark," replied
the colonel.
"The confusion must be something delightful. I suppose you have plenty
of canned peaches?" inquired the brown girl innocently. "I understand
that they are the staple food of heroes."
"They're certainly an indispensable stage property," admitted the
colonel with something of an effort, recalling various evaporated
valiants of the Cuban campaign.
During this profound discussion Ralston's eyes had been wandering from
group to group, and at this moment the object of their search herself
joined the party upon the other side of the table.
"Have another cup of tea, Ellen," urged Miss Evarts.
"I can't, positively, Aunt Bess," responded the girl; "I must go
presently."
"How are things?" said the girl in brown, looking significantly at the
colonel. "Have all your officers turned up?"
"Ye-es," he replied. "Constructively."
"Constructively?" persisted his inquisitor. "What a queer way to be
present! Rather bad for an officer in a swell regiment to be dilatory,
isn't it?"
"Every man has shown up," replied the rather nettled veteran, "except
one, and he'll be along, all right."
"Oh, of course!" murmured the girl. "By the way, have you seen John
Steadman? My cousin Fred, you know, is an officer in the same company,
and he said last night at dinner that he hadn't seen him at the armory.
Some one was mean enough to suggest that these ferocious military men
aren't always 'warlike.'"
"There are no tin soldiers in my regiment," answered the colonel
severely, turning for reënforcement to Mrs. Vokes.
Ellen Ferguson bit her lip, flashed a glance at the girl in brown and
pulling her chinchilla boa into place departed with her nose in the air
toward the next room. She paused for a moment to read the faded
inscription, framed and hanging beneath an old cavalry saber on the
opposite wall, then turning toward Ralston, raised her eyebrows
inquiringly as if to ask how long he was going to occupy himself with
fat old ladies and cheap actresses, and vanished. But the brown girl
turned her guns on Ralston again before he could get away.
"I didn't know you had any drag at Washington," she remarked. "Who have
you got on your staff--a senator or just a common garden M.C.?"
"Neither," he answered politely. "I don't know either of our senators,
and I couldn't name a single congressman from the State."
"And then you have been away so long," added Miss Evarts. "Why, it's
eight months, isn't it? If you ever had any pull I should think it would
have faded away long ago."
"I was certainly the most surprised of all," said Ralston. "I haven't a
blessed qualification for the job. I suppose the fact that I've just
come from the Philippines and have seen something of the Asiatic
Squadron may have had a little to do with it."
"For the navy as against the army, perhaps," said the brown girl. "But
it doesn't explain your getting an appointment in the first place. You
must be a politician in sheep's clothing."
"Well, to be perfectly frank," answered Ralston, seeing that he was in
for it, "a year ago last September, when I was shooting out at Jackson's
Hole, I ran across the President and saw something of him for a week or
so. I was able to help him in a matter of no importance, and you know he
isn't the kind that forgets anything. He's a good fellow!"
"Just like him," commented the young lady. "Now, why didn't he give it
to my brother George, who got nervous prostration making stump speeches
for him at the last election?"
"Oh, I admit it's entirely undeserved, but I must plead guilty to being
glad of a branch office in the White House and of a chance to be one of
the boys in the conning tower," answered Ralston.
"Well, you're only an assistant secretary, anyway," said the girl. "I'm
green with jealousy as it is. But aren't you sorry not to be going with
your old company?"
"Don't!" he exclaimed. "You make me feel as if I belonged to the Home
Guard. Honestly, I'd rather be back with the regiment, but, you see, I
had served my five years ages before you were born. I ought to give the
younger fellows a chance."
"I see," said the girl. "When do you go?"
"To-morrow morning at ten. I reach Washington in time to dine at the
White House."
Several of the women arose and the group about the table gradually
drifted away. The crowd was thinning out. Ralston, knowing very well
that Ellen would be waiting for him, mumbled something to Miss Evarts
and escaped.
"Well!" he exclaimed, entering the other room, and seizing her hands as
she stood with her back to the fire. "Pretty good, isn't it?"
"I should say it was!" she cried delightedly. "Why, Dick, it's the
chance of your life. If you make good only a little bit you may get
anywhere. It's perfectly splendid! I'm so glad!"
Genuine pleasure shone in her eyes. Ralston's heart beat faster. Of
course she cared for him. She must care for him. There was a tide in the
affairs of men which, taken at the flood-- He stepped closer and bent
his head toward hers.
"Nell--" he began.
But she apparently was not listening, and the glad look had quickly
given place to another. He paused, wondering at the change. Her dark
eyes, with their Oriental, upturned corners, were half veiled and her
high-arched brows were contracted in a frown. He drew back and pulled
out his cigarette case.
"Dick," she cried suddenly, "I want to tell you something! I'm sorry to
bother you when you're so happy, and I'm so proud of you, but I'm
terribly worried about something."
"Dear! Dear!" laughed Ralston, striking a match and seeing that his
opportunity had somehow vanished. "What's up? Been losing at bridge?"
She smiled faintly.
"Don't make fun of me," she replied. "No, I'm really bothered." She put
her hand to her forehead and pushed back her hair. "I'm afraid one of my
friends isn't-- Oh, I don't know how to explain it!"
A momentary suspicion flashed across his mind.
"Do you think I ought to go to the front?" he asked, relieved.
She gave a little laugh.
"You? What a goose! Of course not!"
Ralston experienced a shock of disappointment.
"What is it, then?"
"Dick," said she in quick, subdued tones, "I can't help speaking about
it, and you're the best friend I've got. It's about John."
Ralston moved uneasily.
"John Steadman?"
"We're old friends, you know."
"Yes, I remember."
"I don't suppose you've seen him?"
"Not since I came back. Before that, often."
Ellen again passed her hand wearily across her forehead and turned
abruptly away from the fire. The action was unconscious, involuntary. He
had never associated Ellen with Steadman.
"What is it?" he asked sympathetically.
"Oh, nothing definite. Only he's been a little irregular of late. I
haven't seen him for over a week. I don't think anybody has."
"He's a captain in the Twelfth, isn't he?"
"Yes. O Dick! You heard what that spiteful Warren girl said about tin
soldiers?"
"Of course. Nonsense!"
"I can't help it. It's _Honor_, you know!"
"You mean you think he mayn't turn up?"
"I can't--I won't think that."
"But he hasn't?--and they're beginning to talk?"
"You heard for yourself."
"Oh, _that_!"
"Some people never live down less."
"But if he does turn up, why there's an end to it," he said.
"But why isn't he here?" she cried.
"How do I know? He may be on a business trip."
"Of course I thought of that," she replied.
"Oh, he'll be there, all right, when the time comes."
She began arranging her furs. One thing Ralston always admired about her
was her care in dress. He did not know how few clothes she really had.
She seemed always elegantly, if not luxuriously, clad.
They strolled slowly toward the door.
"Well," he said, "I'm awfully sorry you're upset. I'm sure he'll turn up
all right. A man couldn't afford not to. Don't worry. If there was
anything that I could do, no matter what, you know I'd be glad to do it
for your sake, Ellen."
"Thank you, Dick. I know that," she answered.
"Well, good-by," said he. "Say good night to Miss Evarts for me, will
you? I've got to run. I'm late for dinner as it is."
She gave him her hand and he held it for a moment. As he did so he
looked her full in the face.
"Ellen," said he, "tell me something. Do you care about--Steadman?"
She turned her head slightly from him before replying. Then she looked
back again and answered hesitatingly:
"I think--I care."
As she spoke the words she withdrew her hand. Then she flushed and her
eyes brightened.
"Dick," she said slowly, in a voice that trembled a little, "I _know_ I
care."
The _portières_ fell behind him. Mechanically he put on his overcoat and
left the house, pausing for a moment at the top of the steps. A little
smile hovered on his lips, but his eyes were very sad.