which you confer."

"Oh, but when you die, sir," cried Mrs. Howard, "and you want to read
your title clear to mansions in the skies?"

"I shall want none of them; and there are no mansions in the skies."

"And no skies, sir, I suppose," laughed Mrs. Byrd. "Poor Watts!"

"In your sense none," he returned. "How is De Courval?"

"Oh, better; much better."

"He seems to get himself talked about," said Mrs. Howard. "A fine young
fellow, too."

"You should set your cap for him, Tacy," said Gainor to the blond
beauty, Mrs. Lennox.

"It was set long ago for my Colonel," she cried.

"I am much honored," said her husband, bowing.

"She was Dr. Franklin's last love-affair," cried Gainor. "How is that,
Tacy Lennox?"

"Fie, Madam! He was dying in those days, and, yes, I loved him. There
are none like him nowadays."

"I never thought much of his nose," said Gainor, amid gay laughter; and
they went to dinner, the Pearl quietly attentive, liking it well, and
still better when Colonel Howard turned to chat with her and found her
merry and shyly curious concerning the great war she was too young to
remember well, and in regard to the men who fought and won. Josiah, next
to Mrs. Lennox, contributed contradictions, and Pickering was silent,
liking better the company of men.

At dusk, having had their Madeira, they rode away, leaving only Margaret
and Schmidt. The evening talk was quiet, and the girl, reluctant, was
sent to bed early.

"I have a pipe for you," said Gainor. "Come out under the trees. How
warm it is!"

"You had a queer party," said Schmidt, who knew her well, and judged
better than many her true character.

"Yes; was it not? But the women were to your liking, I am sure."

"Certainly; but why Josiah, and what mischief are you two after?"

"I? Mischief, sir?"

"Yes; you do not like him. You never have him here to dine if you can
help it."

"No; but now I am trying to keep him out of mischief, and to-day he
invited himself to dine."

"Well!" said Schmidt, blowing great rings of smoke.

"General Washington was here yesterday. His horse cast a shoe, and he
must needs pay me a visit. Oh, he was honest about it. He looked tired
and aged. I shall grow old; but aged, sir, never. He is deaf, too. I
hope he may not live to lose his mind. I thought of Johnson's lines
about Marlborough."

"I do not know them. What are they?"

"From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow,
And Swift expires, a