Mollie Thurston was not well the next
day. She stayed in bed and explained that her
head ached. And Harriet Hamlin behaved very strangely.
She was shut up in the room with Mollie for a long
time; when she came out Mollie’s eyes were red,
and Harriet looked white as a sheet. But neither
of the girls would say what was the matter.
Just before the hour for starting
to the White House reception, Mollie got out of bed
and insisted on dressing.
“I am afraid you are not well
enough to go out to-night, Mollie,” Bab protested.
“I hope you won’t be too disappointed.
Shall I stay at home with you?”
Mollie shook her head obstinately.
“I am quite well now,” she insisted.
“Bab, would you mind leaving me alone while I
dress? I do feel nervous, and I know Ruth and
Grace won’t care if you go into their room.”
“All right, Mollie,” Barbara
agreed cheerfully, wondering what had come over her
little sister. “Call me when you wish me
to button your gown. I have put the yellow one
out on the lounge, if you should decide to wear it.”
When Mollie was left alone two large
tears rolled down her cheeks. Once she started
to crawl back into bed and to give up the reception
altogether. But, after a while, she walked over
to her closet and drew out a great box. With
trembling fingers Mollie opened it and gazed in upon
the exquisite blue frock that had already caused her
so much embarrassment and regret.
Should she wear the frock that night?
Mollie Thurston asked herself. And what would
Bab say when she saw it? For Mollie had not yet
mustered up the courage to make her confession.
Well, come what might, Mollie decided to wear her
new frock this one time. She had risked everything
to own it, so she might as well have this poor pleasure.
When Mollie joined Mr. Hamlin and
the other girls downstairs a long party cape completely
concealed her gown.
Mr. Hamlin did not keep a private
carriage; so, as long as Ruth’s automobile was
in Washington, he decided to take his party to the
White House in Ruth’s car.
The girls were ready early, for Mr.
Hamlin explained to them that they would have to take
their position in the line of carriages that slowly
approached the White House door, and that sometimes
this procession was nearly a mile in length.
“I suppose you girls won’t
mind the waiting as much as we older people do, because
you always have so much to say to each other.
And perhaps this is my best chance to learn to know
you better. I have been so busy that I have seen
little of you during your visit to Harriet.”
But Mollie and Harriet were strangely
silent, and Bab felt absolutely tongue-tied before
Mr. Hamlin. Fortunately, Grace and Ruth sat on
each side of him.
“Mr. Hamlin,” Grace asked
timidly, “would you mind telling me what are
the duties of the Secretary of State? Washington
is like a new, strange world to us. I have learned
the titles of the different members of the President’s
Cabinet, but I have not the faintest idea what they
do. Mollie and I looked over the cards of the
guests who came to your reception. Some of the
cards just read: ‘The Speaker,’ ’The
Chief of Staff,’ ‘L’Ambassadeur
de France,’ without any personal names at all.”
Mr. Hamlin seemed pleased. The
stern, half-embarrassed expression, that he usually
wore before the girls relaxed a little at Grace’s
eager questioning.
“I am glad, Miss Carter, to
find you take an interest in Washington affairs,”
he answered. “It is most unusual in a young
girl. I wish Harriet cared more about them, but
she seems devoted only to society.” Mr.
Hamlin sighed under his breath. “Yes; it
is the custom for the officials in Washington to put
only the titles of their office on their visiting
cards. You are sure you wish to know the duties
of the Secretary of State? I don’t want
to bore you, my child.”
Grace nodded her head eagerly.
“Well, let me see if I can make
it plain to you. The Secretary of State has charge
of all the correspondence between the foreign countries
and their representatives in the United States,”
Mr. Hamlin continued. “Do you understand?”
“I think I do,” Grace
answered hesitatingly, while Bab leaned over from
the next seat to see if she could understand what Mr.
Hamlin was explaining.
“The Secretary of State also
receives all kinds of information from the consuls
and diplomatic officers, who represent the United States
abroad,” Mr. Hamlin went on. “Sometimes
this information is very important and very secret.
It might bring on serious trouble, perhaps start a
war with another country, if some of these secrets
were discovered. The Secretary of State has other
duties; he keeps the Great Seal of the United States.
But my chief business as Assistant Secretary is just
to look after the important private correspondence
with all the other countries.”
“Father,” exclaimed Harriet,
“why are you boring the girls to death with
so much information? They don’t understand
what you mean. I have been living in Washington
for four years, and I have not half an idea of what
your duties are. But thank goodness, we have arrived
at the White House at last!”
Their motor car had finally drawn
up before the entrance to the Executive Mansion at
the extremity of the eastern wing. The house was
a blaze of lights; the Marine Band was playing a national
air.
Harriet, who was familiar with all
the rules that govern the President’s receptions,
quickly marshaled her guests into the lobby, where
they had to take off their coats and hats.
Bab was so overcome at the enormous
number of people about her, that she did not see Mollie
remove her cape.
Mollie slipped quietly into a corner,
and was waiting by Harriet’s side, when Harriet
called the other girls to hurry up the broad stairs
to the vestibule above, where the guests were forming
in line to enter the reception room.
Barbara, Ruth and Grace gave little
gasps of astonishment when they first beheld Mollie.
If little Mollie Thurston’s heart was heavy within
her on this brilliant occasion, she held her pretty
head very high. The worry and excitement had
given her a slight fever; her cheeks were a deep carmine
and her eyes glittered brightly.
“Why, Mollie! What a vision
you are!” exclaimed Ruth and Grace together.
“Where did you get that wonderful gown?
You have been saving it to surprise us to-night, haven’t
you?”
But Bab did not say a single word.
She only looked at Mollie, her face paling a little
with surprise and curiosity. How had Mollie come
by a gown that was more beautiful than anything Bab
had ever seen her sister wear? Barbara knew Mollie
had not had the gown when they left home together,
for she had packed her sister’s trunk for her.
But this was not the time to ask questions. Bab’s
mind was divided between the wonder and delight she
felt at the scene before her, and amazement at Mollie’s
secret. “I do hope,” she thought,
as she followed Mr. Hamlin up the steps, “that
Mollie has not borrowed that gown of Harriet.
But no; it fits her much too well. Some one must
have given it to her as a present and she has kept
the secret until to-night to surprise me.”
The “Automobile Girls”
stood behind Mr. Hamlin and Harriet in the great vestibule
just outside the famous Blue Room of the White House,
where the President and his wife were waiting to receive
their guests. The line was moving forward so
slowly that the girls had a chance to look about them.
Never had any one of them beheld such a beautiful spectacle.
Of course the “Automobile Girls” had been
present at a number of receptions during their brief
social careers, but for the first time to-night they
saw men in other than ordinary evening dress.
The diplomats from other countries wore their superb
court costumes with the insignia of their rank.
The American Army and Navy officers had on their bright
full dress uniforms.
Bab thought the Russian Ambassador
the most superb looking man she had ever seen, and
Mollie blushed when Lieutenant Elmer Wilson bowed
gallantly to her across the length of the hall.
When the girls first took up their
positions in the line, they believed they would never
grow weary of looking about them. But by and by,
as they waited and the number of people ahead of them
only slowly decreased, they grew tired.
A girl passed by Barbara and smiled.
It was Marjorie Moore. She was not going to try
to shake hands with the President. She had a note
book and a pencil in her hand and was evidently bent
on business. Barbara also caught a glimpse of
Peter Dillon, but he did not come up to speak to them.
Mr. Hamlin’s charges at last
entered the Blue Room. The President and his
receiving party stood by a pair of great windows hung
with heavy silk portieres.
It was now almost time for the “Automobile
Girls” to shake hands with the President.
They were overcome with nervousness.
Harriet was next to her father; Bab
stood just behind Harriet, followed by Ruth, Grace
and Mollie.
“You are just supposed to shake
hands with the President, not to talk to him,”
Harriet whispered. “Then the President’s
wife is next and you may greet the other women in
the receiving line as you pass along. The Vice-President’s
wife stands next to the President’s wife and
the ladies of the Cabinet just after her.”
Bab watched Harriet very carefully.
She was determined to make no false moves.
Finally, Barbara heard her name announced
by the Master of Ceremonies. She felt her heart
stop beating for a moment, and the color mount to her
cheeks. The next moment her hand was clasped in
that of the President of the United States.
Barbara said a little prayer of thankfulness
when she had finished speaking to all the receiving
ladies. She felt glad, indeed, when Mr. Hamlin
drew her behind a thick blue silk cord, where the President’s
special guests were talking in groups together.
Bab then watched Ruth, Grace and Mollie go through
the same formality.
Now nobody had ever warned Mollie
that it was not good form to speak to the President
before he spoke to her. She thought it was polite
to make some kind of a remark when she was introduced
to him. So all the way up the line she had been
wondering what she ought to say.
As the President took Mollie’s
little hand he bent over slightly. For a very
small voice said, “I like Washington very much,
Mr. President.”
The President smiled. “I am glad you do,”
he answered.
A little later, Mr. Hamlin took the
girls through all the state apartments of the White
House. One of these rooms was less crowded than
the others. Groups of Mr. Hamlin’s friends
were standing about laughing and talking together.
Barbara was next Mr. Hamlin when she happened to glance
toward a far corner of the room. There she saw
her newspaper friend. The girl made a mysterious
sign to Barbara to come over to her and to come alone.
But Bab shook her head.
Still she felt the girl’s eyes
on her. Each time she turned, Marjorie Moore
again made her strange signal. Once she pointed
significantly toward a group of people. But Bab
only saw the broad back of the little Chinese Minister
and the stately form of the Russian Ambassador.
The two men were talking to a number of Washington
officials whose names Barbara did not even know.
Of course, Marjorie Moore’s peculiar actions
could not refer to them. But to save her life
Bab could not find any one else nearby.
Womanlike, Barbara’s curiosity
was aroused. What could the girl want with her?
Evidently, her news was a secret, for Miss Moore did
not come near Mr. Hamlin’s party and Bab simply
could not get away without offering some explanation
to them.
Barbara was growing tired of the reception.
She had been introduced to so many people that her
brain was fairly spinning in an effort to remember
their names. Again Bab looked across at Miss Moore.
This time the newspaper girl pointed with her pencil
through a small open door, near which she was standing.
Her actions said as plainly as any words could speak:
“Follow me when you have a chance. There
is something I must tell you!” The next instant
Marjorie Moore vanished through this door and was
lost to sight.
A few minutes later Bab managed to
slip over to that side of the room. She intended
merely to peep out the open door to see whether Miss
Moore were waiting for her in the hall. Bab carefully
watched her opportunity. Mr. Hamlin and the girls
were not looking. Now was her chance. She
was just at the door, when some one intercepted her.
“Ah! Good evening, Miss Thurston,”
said a suave voice.
Barbara turned, blushing again to
confront the Chinese Minister looking more magnificent
than ever in his Imperial robes of state.
The young girl paused and greeted
the official. Still the Chinese Minister regarded
her gravely with his inscrutable Oriental eyes that
seemed to look her through and through. He seemed
always about to ask her some question.
Of course, Barbara was obliged to
give up her effort to follow Marjorie Moore, though
she was still devoured with curiosity to know what
the girl had wished to say to her. The next ten
minutes, wherever Bab went, she felt the Chinese Minister’s
gaze follow her.
It was not until Barbara Thurston
discovered that the Oriental gentleman had himself
withdrawn from the reception room that she mustered
up a sufficient courage to try her venture the second
time.
“Miss Moore, of course, is not
expecting me now,” Barbara thought. “But
as I have a chance, I will see what has become of her.”
Bab peeped cautiously out through
the still open door. She saw only an empty corridor
with a servant standing idly in the hall. Should
she go forward? No; Barbara did not, of course,
dare to wander through the White House halls alone.
She was too likely to find herself in some place to
which visitors were not admitted.
The servant who waited in the hall
saw Barbara hesitate, then turn back. He leaned
over and whispered mysteriously: “You are
to come to the door at the west side, which opens
on the lawn. The young woman left a message that
she would wait for you there.”
“But I don’t know the
west side,” Bab faltered hesitatingly, feeling
that she ought to turn back, yet anxious to go on.
“The young woman said it was
most important for her to see you; I can show you
the way to the west door,” the man went on.
Barbara now quickly made up her mind.
Marjorie Moore was only a girl like herself.
If she needed her or if she wanted to confide in her,
Bab meant to answer the summons.
Bab found the portico deserted. There was no
one in sight.
Down on the lawn, some distance ahead,
she thought she saw a figure moving. Barbara
drew her chiffon scarf more closely over her shoulders
and ran quickly out into the garden without thinking.
It was, of course, Marjorie Moore ahead of her.
But Bab had not gone far, when the figure disappeared,
and she realized her own foolishness. She must
get back into the White House in a hurry before any
one found out what she had done.
It was exceedingly dark out on the
lawn in contrast with the brilliant illumination of
the house, and Barbara was running swiftly. She
had begun to wonder what explanation she could make
if Harriet or Mr. Hamlin asked where she had been.
As usual, Barbara was repenting a rash impulse too
late. She ran obliquely across the yard in order
to return in a greater hurry. Between a clump
of bushes set at some distance apart her feet struck
against something soft and heavy and Bab pitched forward
across the object.