ly.

"Ah, senator!" she cried, as she held out her hand with regulated
effusion. "I am so charmed. I did not know that you were to be here.
You great ones of the earth are so busy and so much in demand----"

Senator Grayson bowed and beamed. He shifted in uneasy gratification
from one foot to the other, and a rosier red showed in his round face.

"I did not think that you young ladies noticed us old politicians----"

"Every one should be given the benefit of a doubt. Of course, in our
silly lives there is not very much chance to know about anything
really worth while, but when a thing is really great even we cannot
help hearing about it. Your last speech--the broad, far-reaching
views----"

The senator stood in agreeable embarrassment.

"I read it," Miriam continued. "I could not go to sleep, because I
wanted to finish it. Of course, I could not understand all, but I was
entranced. Even I could feel the force and eloquence. I have heard of
nothing else."

"Really?" cried the enchanted statesman. "Do you know I thought it had
fallen flat? You are good to tell me. These side-lights are of the
utmost value, and, indeed, I esteem your opinion. Would you let me get
out a cup of tea? And--and--Mrs. Grayson was only saying the other day
that she wanted to ask you to come to Washington for a visit this
winter."

As the senator stumbled away, Miss Whiting felt a light touch at her
elbow.

"In your most popular and successful manner, Miriam," said a slight,
slim woman, whom she found standing beside her.

"He's a dear, if he is an old goose," said Miriam, defiantly. "And, of
course, any shading would be lost on him."

"I know," continued the other, the sharp brown eyes in her lean brown
face regarding the girl critically. "There are degrees of flattery
even in your flattering. You have reduced it--or elevated it--to the
proud position of an exact science."

Before Miriam could reply, a young man who had discovered her from
afar advanced with what was evidently an unusual degree of
precipitancy.

"Miss Whiting, I am delighted," he puffed. "I have been looking for
you everywhere. I was in town, and I went to that bric-a-brac shop.
The fan is undoubtedly a real Jacques Callot."

"I was sure," she murmured, "with your knowledge and taste, that you
could decide at once. Of course, I did not know."

"And--and----" hesitated the youth, "I hope that you will not be
offended. I told them to send it to you here. If you