Marion Marlowe in Washington, or, Meeting the President — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Se ee aoe Ya. My QUEEN. % “Uncle gave me four tickets that he hap- pened to have on hand,” he began, gayly, “and he has promised to get two more, if the thing is possible.”’ “We don’t need any more,” broke in Mar- ion. ‘Colonel Appleby has invited Alma and Bert and me, so if you have four, it will be just enough. You can take Miss Ellis, and Mr. Temple and Mr. Olcott can take each other! Oh, won't it be daa to see such a function!” Dr. Brookes stared a little, so Miss Allyn . made the necessary explanations, and before she had finished, Mr. Temple entered. “This is a great day in Washington, all right,” he began, jovially. “I’ve seen seven fights, nineteen bands, twelve drum corps and seventy-five pretty women, and if that isn’t enough to inaugurate a President, I'd like to know what is!” : “And I saw fifty handsome men, all wear- ing silk hats,” began Miss Allyn, when another voice interrupted: | “Beware of silk hats in Washington, Alma! I’ve been told by good authority that they either cover a Congressman or a Senator, and both are equally fascinating to the eyes of unsophisticated females!” “Yes, it is ancient history that our law- makers are wretched flirts,” said Miss Allyn, smiling ; “but we’ve only come in dangerous proximity to one, and he’s not very dazzling. There’s no danger of either Marion or myself falling a prey to the fascinations of Colonel Appleby.” “A fine Southérn soldier! I've heard of him often!’ said Mr. Temple, quickly. “You can trust yourseives with Colonel Appleby with perfect safety. I wish I could Say as much for some of his brother officers.”’ Bert Jackson came in as he spoke, and dropped into the nearest chair. He had just come from watching the end of the vast procession with the colonel. “Ladies.” he said, thrusting his hands into his coat pocket, “what do I hold in my hand?” “Oh, Bert, vou tease,”’ said Marion. divin- ing a new surprise. “What are you going to tell us now ?” “I’m not going to tell you anything; you’re going to tell me!” he exclaimed, mischiey- ously, and he drew a large square envelope from his pocket and handed it to her.» “They are for you and Miss Allyn,” Bert added, “with the compliments of the colonel!” Marion quickly tore open the envelope, and drew out two tickets of admission to the re- ception at the White House that afternoon. “How perfectly glorious,’ burst out Alma, as she leaned over Marion’s shoulder to read the wording on the tickets. “Why, Marion, we will be introduced to the President!” “Then the reception is not for the Diplo- matic Corps only?” said Marion, in a pro- voking voice, to her friend, and it was Alma’s turn to find herself being teased. “Well, I suppose that comes next on the programme!” said Bert, getting up. “I’m as weak as a rag now, and the day isn’t half over, but here goes for a fresh start! Come on, Mr. Temple!” | . “Are you ladies provided for?’ asked the manager, starting toward the door. “Yes, the colonel said his carriage would’ call for them,” spoke up Bert. “I almost forgot that. By the way, Marion, you and Alma had better hurry—you must be ready to go within an hour.” “Then we may not meet again until din- ner,’ said Marion, as she started for the door with Miss Allyn. “You know, Alma and I must prink a little to make ourselves look well this evening.”’ “Yes,” replied Alma, “we don’t care to be outshone completely. Still, even. if Miss Emilie MacGregor is one of Washington’s fairest, our Marion has nothing to fear,’ she added, proudlv. “Miss MacGregor is Colonel Appleby’s sweetheart, is she not?” asked Dr. Brookes. slowly. “My uncle was telling me a little Washington gossip, and I am almost cer- tain that was one of the items.” “Oh, it can’t be possible,” exclaimed Mar- ion, glancing quickly at Miss Allyn. “Why, we met her to-day, and he bowed very indif- ferently! Why, he was talking to me and he hardly noticed her !” “That is strange for a Southern gentle- man,” said Dr. Brookes, musingly. “Oh, Marion rattled You can’t blame him!” laughed Bert: “but do come on, him! somebody—we may be 2 Coir g G ; ' fk OhiGb@aleKeo