Senator, roused from his thoughts by his
youngest daughter's words and thrusting himself forward.

Mrs. Spangler laid her hand on his arm.

"Oh, Senator, I have just told the dear girls that you had asked me to
marry you--that we were soon to be married," she said, archly, looking
him straight in the eye. She clasped her hands and murmured: "I am so
happy!"

The hero of Crawfordsville tried to speak, but he could not. He stared
at his hostess, who smiled the smile of the budding debutante. His own
open-mouthed astonishment was reflected in the faces of Carolina and
Hope Georgia as they observed their father's expression. He forgot he
was in Washington. He did not know he was a Senator. The fact that he
had ever even thought of making a speech was furthest from his mind.

What did it all mean? Had Mrs. Spangler gone suddenly insane? His
daughters--what did they think? These thoughts surged through his
flustered brain. Then it flashed over him--she was joking in some new
fashionable way. He turned toward the fair widow to laugh, but her
face was losing its smile. A pained expression, a suggestion of
intense suffering, appeared in her face.

"Why do you so hesitate, Senator Langdon?" she finally asked in low
voice, just loud enough for the two girls to overhear.

The junior Senator from Mississippi looked at his hostess. She had
entertained him and had done much for his daughters in Washington. She
was alone in the world--a widow. He felt that he could not shame her
before Carolina and Hope Georgia. His Southern chivalry would not
permit that. Then, too, she was a most charming person, and the
thought, "Why not--why not take her at her word?" crept into his mind.

"Yes, father, why do you hesitate?" asked Carolina.

Senator Langdon mustered his voice into service at last.

"I've been thinking," he said, slowly, "that--"

"That your daughters did not know," interrupted Mrs. Spangler, "of
our--"

"The telephone--upstairs--is ringing, madam," said a maid who had
entered to Mrs. Spangler.

The adventuress could not leave the Senator and his daughters alone,
though she knew it must be Peabody calling her. At any moment he might
remember his speech and leave. Already late, he would still be later,
though, because he would have no carriage--hers would purposely be
delayed.

"Tell the person speaking that you are empowered to bring me any
message--that I cannot leave the dining-hall," she said to the maid.

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