Marion Marlowe in Washington, or, Meeting the President — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

haven’t the slightest ambition to be anything else, except, of course, I’d like to be a great artist.” She was hurrying with her toilet as she talked, and, as the last detail was finished, her friend stepped back and looked at her. “You are as sweet as a peach in that blue gown, she said, enthusiastically. ‘You must not be surprised at anything the President says to you.” Then they both stepped into the hall, where an attendant met them, and started to escort Marion to the room where the President’s delegate was waiting. Suddenly another bellboy appeared at the head of the stairs and approached her with a card in his hand. “A gentleman to see you, miss,” said the boy. Marion stopped and took the card from the tray held out to her, glancing at it curi- ously. It was the regulation bit of pasteboard to - be found in all hotel offices, and across it was scrawled in ink the name of “Colonel Ap- pleby.” “You can excuse yourself, Marion, dear,” said Alma, quickly. “Tell him the President wishes your company, and that he isn’t in it!” Alma was half joking, but it was just what Marion did, only she made her message a trifle more courteous. The bellboy received her message and darted down the stairway. _ Marion’s thoughts immediately turned back to the prospect before her, and she __was“smiling happily as she descended in the elevator. As the attendant escorted her through the main corridor, ske caught a glimpse of the man she knew as Colonel Appleby in one of the reception-rooms. “This way, miss,” said the attendant, pointing to a large parlor further on. A moment later she was at the door of the spacious room, ‘and a tall, military-looking gentleman was bowing to her courteously. “Miss Marion Marlowe, I am sure.” he said, with a courtly salute. ‘‘Permit me to introduce myself as the delegate of the Presi- MY QUEEN, 17 dent to escort you to the White House. [ am Colonel Appleby, at your ser- vice.” Horace CHAPTER «X. THE IDENTITY OF THE CONGRESSMAN. For an instant the young girl was too be- wildered to even speak; then her wits came back to her, and she returned the bow grace- fully. What could it mean? Were there two Colonel Applebys? The thing was possible, but hardly probable. The gentleman was chatting pleasantly as he led her to the car- riage, so Marion had an opportunity to calm her emotions, and by the time the magnifi- cent equipage was headed for the White House she was able to take her part in the pleasant conversation. The streets were still crowded, and she was cheered on every side. Everyone seemed to recognize the brave girl who had saved the President. The rest passed like a dream. It did not seem possible that it could be true. The young girl was almost overwhelmed with words of praise from the distinguished group standing in one of the spacious rooms of the White House. The Cabinet ladies who were present all shook her hand warmly, and there were tears in the eyes of-the mistress of the \White Flouse as she gazed upon the young girl w ho, in all probability, had saved her husband’s life. President McKinley held out his hand to her for the second time that day, and, al- though hundreds had passed before him, he recalled her sweet face perfectly. It was the proudest moment in Marion’s life, but, in spite of her embarrassment, she was able to smile back at the Chief Executive as he gave her hand a grateful pressure. How different it all would have been if the assassin had been successful ! The thought flashed through her brain as she passed once more from the White House. “The Temple Theatrical Company is wait- ing to give you another reception, Marion!” cried Bert, as soon as she entered the hotel. “We are so proud of our start that we are in COMICOOOKS.c©