Bab knew that at the rear of this floor of Mr. Hamlin’s house there was a small room that was seldom used. She hoped to find refuge in it for a few minutes, and then to return to her friends.

The room was empty. Bab sank down into a great arm chair and closed her eyes.

A few moments later she opened them though she heard no sound. A fat little Chinese gentleman stood regarding her with an expression of amusement on his face.

Barbara jumped hastily to her feet. Where was she? She felt frightened. Although the man before her was yellow and foreign, and wore strange Chinese clothes, he was evidently a person of importance. Had Barbara awakened at the Court of Pekin? Her companion wore a loose, black satin coat, heavily embroidered in flowers and dragons and a round, close fitting silk cap with a button on top of it.

“I beg your pardon,” Bab exclaimed in confusion. “Whom did you wish to see? There is no one in here.”

The Chinese gentleman made Bab a stately bow. “No one,” he protested. “This is the first time, since my residence in America, that I have heard an American girl speak of herself as no one. Miss United States is always some one in her own country. But may I therefore present myself to little ‘Miss No One’? I am Dr. Tu Fang Wu, His Imperial Chinese Majesty’s Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to the United States.”

“I am very proud to meet you, Mr. Minister,” Barbara returned, wondering if “Mr. Minister” was the proper way to address a foreign ambassador. She thought Mr. Hamlin had told her so, only the night before.

Bab did not know in the least what she should do or say to such a distinguished Oriental. She might make a mistake at any minute. For Bab had been learning, every hour since her arrival in Washington, that in no place is social etiquette more important than in the Capital City.

“May I find Mr. Hamlin for you?” Bab suggested, hoping to make her escape.

The Chinese Minister shook his head slowly. “Mr. Hamlin is engaged with his other guests.”

“Then won’t you be seated?” Bab asked in desperation. Really she and this strange yellow gentleman could not stand staring at each other the whole afternoon. It made Bab feel creepy to have a Chinaman regard her so steadfastly and without the slightest change of expression, even if he were a foreign minister.

Bab felt this meeting to be one of the strangest experiences of her whole life. She had never seen a Chinaman before, except on the street carrying a basket of laundry. But here she was forced into a tete-a-tete with one in the highest social position.

“Have you any daughters?” Barbara asked in her effort to break the awful silence.

Mr. Tu Fang Wu again bowed gravely. “I have one daughter and one small son. My daughter is not here with me this afternoon. Chinese girls do not go to entertainments where there are young men. My daughter has been brought up according to the customs of our country. But she has been in Washington for several years. I fear she, too, would like to be emancipated, like the American girl. It is not possible, although she enjoys many privileges she will not have when she returns to China. My daughter is betrothed to a nobleman in her own country. Perhaps you would like to meet my daughter, Wee Tu? She is fifteen years old. I shall ask Miss Hamlin to bring you to luncheon at the Embassy.”

To Barbara’s relief Mr. William Hamlin now appeared at the door.

The Chinese minister again bowed profoundly to Barbara. “I was looking for your smoking-room,” he laughed, “but I found this young woman instead.”

As the two men went out of the room, Bab had difficulty in making sure that she had not been dreaming of this fat, yellow gentleman.

“Barbara Thurston, what do you mean by running away by yourself?” exclaimed Grace Carter, a moment later. “We have been looking for you for ten minutes.”

Hugh Post, Mollie and a strange young man were close behind Grace.

“I want to present my friend, Lieutenant Elmer Wilson,” Hugh announced. “He is a very important person in Washington.”

“Not a bit of it,” laughed the young man. “I am one of the President’s aides. I try to make myself generally useful.”

“Your work must be very interesting,” Barbara said quickly. “Do you ­”

Just then a soft contralto voice interrupted her. “Are you ready to go with me, Elmer?” it said.

Barbara recognized the voice as belonging to the Mrs. Wilson whom she had met in the drawing room not an hour before. Could it be that this young and lovely looking woman was the mother of Elmer Wilson? Surely the young man was at least twenty-two years old.

“Coming in a moment, Mother,” Elmer replied. “Have you said good-bye to Harriet?”

“Harriet is not in the reception room now. Nearly all her guests have gone,” Mrs. Wilson murmured softly. “Mr. Hamlin is angry. But poor Harriet ought to have a chance to talk for a few minutes to the richest young man in Washington. I will leave you, Elmer. If you see Harriet, you may tell her I did not think it fair to disturb her.”

Barbara went back to the drawing-room to search for Ruth. She found Ruth standing next her uncle, Mr. Hamlin, saying the adieux in Harriet’s place. A few moments later the last visitor had withdrawn and Mr. Hamlin quickly left Ruth and Bab alone.

Mr. Hamlin was a small man, with iron gray hair, a square jaw and thin, tightly closed lips. He seldom talked, and the “Automobile Girls” felt secretly afraid of him.

“Uncle is dreadfully angry with Harriet,” Ruth explained to Bab, after Mr. Hamlin was out of hearing. “But he is awfully strict and I do not think he is exactly fair. He does not give Harriet credit for what she does, but he gets awfully cross if she makes any mistakes. Harriet is upstairs, in her own sitting-room, talking to a great friend of hers. He is a man Uncle hates, although he has known Charlie Meyers since childhood. He is immensely rich, but he is very ill-bred, and that is why Uncle dislikes him. I don’t think Harriet cares a bit more for this young man than she does for half a dozen others. But if Uncle doesn’t look out Harriet will marry him for spite. Harriet hates being poor. She is not poor, really. But I am afraid she is terribly extravagant. Promise not to laugh when you see Charlie Meyers. He looks a little like a pig, he is so pink and fat.”

“Girls!” called Harriet’s voice. “Are you still in here? Mr. Meyers has just gone, and I wanted you to meet him. He is going to have a motor party and take you to see Mount Vernon. We can drive along the Potomac and have our supper somewhere in the country.”

“I’m going to drive Mr. A. Bubble, Harriet,” Ruth replied. “As long as I brought my car to Washington I must use it. But I suppose we can get up guests enough to fill two automobiles, can’t we?”

“Where’s Father?” Harriet inquired, trying to conceal a tremor in her voice. “Did he know I was upstairs?”

“I am afraid he did, Harriet,” Ruth replied.

“Well, I don’t care,” declared Harriet defiantly. “I will select my own friends. Charlie Meyers is stupid and ill-bred, but he is good natured, and I am tired of position and poverty.”

“You are no such thing, Harriet,” protested Ruth, taking her cousin by the hand and leading her to a long mirror. “There, look at yourself in your yellow gown. You look like a queen. Please don’t be silly.”

“It’s clothes that make the woman, Ruth,” Harriet replied, kissing Ruth unexpectedly. “And this yellow gown is just one of the things that troubles me. Dear me, I am glad the reception is over!”