a
sense of lenity toward Governor Abbott. He encouraged himself to believe
that the note between them had been one of misunderstanding merely. It
might not be too late, after all! Gradually, he began to form a mental
picture of a growing sympathy and affiliation between them, large with
possibilities of improvement for Alleghenia. As he turned into the
Rathbawnes' gateway, he could have laughed aloud for very lightness of
heart. His optimism was not even impaired by running, in the hall, full
against Mrs. Rathbawne.

"_Good_ gracious! Lieutenant-Governor, is that you?"

Repeated and earnest endeavor on Barclay's part had never dissuaded her
from this form of address.

"What _is_ the use of _having_ such a title, if one can't _call_ you by
it?" she would say, when he remonstrated. "Do _you_ suppose that, if
Natalie were engaged to a _prince_, I should be going around, calling
him Tom, Dick, or Harry, instead of 'Your Royal _Highness_'? You ought
to be _proud_ of your title. _I_ am!"

"But, Mrs. Rathbawne"--

"Now, _please_ not, Lieutenant-Governor, _please_ not! I like it best
that way."

The north wind was attentive and amenable to the voice of persuasion, in
comparison with Josephine Rathbawne.

"Of _course_ you know the _strike_ is on!" she continued now, without
waiting for an assurance from Barclay that he was indeed none other than
himself. "Isn't it _awful_? I expect to hear the roar of the mob at
_any_ moment! Come into the drawing-room. Natalie _was_ there, only
_half_ an hour ago."

And she swept through the doorway, Barclay following.

"Natalie," she began, "here's the Lieu--why, _Dorothy_! I took you for
Natalie. And--er--oh! Why, Mr.--er--how de do? I didn't see you at
first. Oh, _do_ turn on the switch, my dear. The place is as black as
pitch."

The electric light, flooding the room, revealed young Nisbet, one vast,
consuming blush, and Dorothy, with a dangerous light in her eyes, and
her lips tightly compressed. It was plain that Mrs. Rathbawne had fallen
foul of Dan Cupid's machinery once more!

"Why, Mr. _Nisbet_! I thought you were in New York."

"I had a telegram this morning, calling the date off," said young Nisbet
in pitiable confusion; "that is, I didn't have to go, you know. So I
just fell in here to explain. I thought some of you might spot me on the
street, and after I'd said"--

He began to flounder hopelessly, and cast a glance of mute appeal at
Dorothy. That facile young la