CHAPTER II
CABINET DAY IN WASHINGTON
It was Harriet Hamlin's reception day. There are certain times appointedin Washington when the members of the President's Cabinet holdreceptions.
The "Automobile Girls" had come to Washington in time for one of thesespecial entertainments. For, as Harriet explained, they could seeeveryone worth seeing at once. Not only would the diplomats, the senatorsand congressmen call with their wives, but the Army and Navy officers,all official Washington would appear to pay their respects to Mr. WilliamHamlin and his lovely daughter.
"Then there will be a crowd of unimportant people besides," Harriet hadcontinued. "People who are never asked to any small parties come to thisreception just because they can get in. So you girls will have toentertain yourselves this morning. I have a thousand things to do. Whynot take the girls to look at the White House, Ruth? That is the firstthing to do in Washington. I am sorry I can't go with you. But you justwalk straight down Connecticut Avenue and you can't miss it."
It was a perfect day. Although it was early in December, the atmospherewas like Indian summer. Washington shone sparkling white through a dimveil of haze. The "Automobile Girls" walked briskly along toward theWhite House, chatting every step of the way.
"Where are the poplar trees planted along this avenue by ThomasJefferson, Ruth?" Grace Carter demanded. "I read somewhere that Jeffersonmeant to make this avenue look like the famous street called '_Unter denLinden_' in Berlin."
"He did, child, but most of the poplar trees died," Ruth rejoined, "andsome one else planted these oaks and elms. Why are you so silent,Barbara? Are you tired?"
"I think Washington is the most beautiful city in the whole world," Babanswered with sudden enthusiasm.
"Wait until you have seen it," Ruth teased. "Uncle William wants to takeus through the Capitol. But I suppose there is no harm in our looking atthe outside of the White House. Later on, when we go to one of thePresident's receptions, we can see the inside of it."
"Shall we ever see the President?" Mollie asked breathlessly. "Won't itbe wonderful? I never dreamed that even Mr. Hamlin could take us to thePresident's home."
"Here we are at the White House," said Ruth.
The "Automobile Girls" stood silent for a moment, looking in through theautumn foliage at the simple colonial mansion, which is the historic"White House."
"I am glad our White House looks like that," Bab said, after half amoment's pause. "I was so afraid it would be pretentious. But it is justbig and simple and dignified as our President's home ought to be. Itmakes me feel so glad to be an American," Barbara ended with a flush. Shewas afraid the other girls were laughing at her.
"I think so too, Bab," Ruth agreed. "I don't see why girls cannot be aspatriotic as boys. We may be able to serve our country in some way, someday. I hope we shall have the chance."
The "Automobile Girls" had entered the White House grounds and werestrolling along through the park.
Bab and Ruth were talking of the beauties of Washington. But no suchthoughts were engrossing pretty Mollie's attention. Mollie's mind wasdwelling on the society pleasures the "Automobile Girls" expected toenjoy at the Capital City. Grace Carter was listening to Barbara's andRuth's animated conversation.
From the very first days at Newport, Mollie Thurston had cared more forsociety than had her sister and two friends. Her dainty beauty and prettymanners made her a favorite wherever she went. Mollie's friends hadspoiled her, and since her arrival in Washington the old story hadrepeated itself. Harriet Hamlin had already taken Mollie under herspecial protection. And Mollie was wildly excited with the thought of thesocial experiences ahead of her.
The four girls spent some time strolling about the White Housegrounds. Then Ruth proposed that they take a car and visit theCongressional Library.
"I think it is the most beautiful building in Washington, and, in fact,one of the finest in the world," she said enthusiastically, and laterwhen the "Automobile Girls" were fairly inside the famous library, theyfully agreed with her. It was particularly hard to tear Barbara away fromwhat seemed to her the most fascinating place she was ever in, and sheannounced her intention of visiting it again at the first opportunity.
The sightseers arrived home in time for luncheon and at four o'clock thatafternoon they stood in a row, beside Harriet Hamlin and her father,helping to receive the guests who crowded in to the reception. Some ofthe women wore beautiful gowns, others looked as though they had comefrom small towns where the residents knew nothing of fashionable society.
Mollie and Bab wore the white chiffon frocks Mr. Prescott had presentedthem with in Chicago. But Grace and Ruth wore gowns that had been orderedfor this particular occasion. Bab thought their white frocks, whichlooked as though they were new, as pretty as any of the gowns worn there.But little Mollie was not satisfied. She hated old clothes, no matter howwell they looked. And Harriet Hamlin was rarely beautiful in an importedgown of pale, yellow crepe.
After receiving for an hour, Bab slipped quietly into a chair near awindow. She wished to examine the guests at her leisure. Mollie and Ruthwere deep in conversation with Mrs. Post and Hugh. Grace was talking toDorothy and Gwendolin Morton.
Barbara's eyes wandered eagerly over the throng of people. Suddenly someone touched her on the shoulder.
"You do not remember me, do you?"
Bab turned and saw a young woman.
"I am Marjorie Moore," said the newcomer. "I am the girl who came to askyou for your pictures. Perhaps you think it is strange for me to come toHarriet Hamlin's reception when she was so rude to me last night. But Iam not a guest. Besides, newspaper people are not expected to have anyfeelings. My newspaper sent me to find out what people were here thisafternoon. So here I am! I know everybody in Washington. Would you likeme to point out some of the celebrities to you? See that stunning womanjust coming in at the door? She has the reputation of being the mostpopular woman in Washington. But nobody knows just where she comes from,or who she is, or how she gets her money. But I must not talk Washingtongossip. You'll meet her soon yourself."
"How do you do, Miss Moore?" broke in a charming contralto voice."You are the very person I wish to see. I can give you some news foryour paper. It is not very important, but I thought you might liketo have it."
"You are awfully good, Mrs. Wilson," Marjorie Moore replied gratefully."I have just been talking to Miss Thurston about you. May I introduceher? She has just arrived in Washington, and I told her, only half asecond ago, that you were the nicest woman in this town."
Mrs. Wilson laughed quietly. "I know Miss Thurston's sister and herfriend, Miss Carter. Mr. Hamlin let me help chaperon them at a receptionyesterday afternoon. But Miss Moore has been flattering me dreadfully. Iam a very unimportant person, though I happen to have the good fortune tobe a friend of Mr. Hamlin's and Harriet's. I am keeping house inWashington at present. Some day you must come to see me."
Bab thanked her new acquaintance. She thought she had never seen a moreunusual looking woman. It was impossible to guess her age. Mrs. Wilson'shair was snow-white, but her face was as young as a girl's and her eyeswere fascinatingly dark under her narrow penciled brows. She was gownedin a pale blue broadcloth dress, and wore on her head a large black hattrimmed with a magnificent black plume.
"The top of the afternoon to you!" declared a new arrival in Bab'ssheltered corner. "How is a man to find you if you will hide behindcurtains?" This time Bab recognized Peter Dillon, her acquaintance of theafternoon before.
Mrs. Wilson, whose manner suggested a charming frankness and innocence,took Peter by the arm. "Which of the three Graces do you mean to devoteyourself to this afternoon, Peter? You shall not flatter us all at once."
"I flatter?" protested Peter, in aggrieved tones. "Why truthfulness is mystrong point."
Marjorie Moore gave a jarring laugh. "Is it, Mr. Dillon?" she returned,not too politely. "Please count me out of Mr. Dillon's flatteries. Hedoes not include a woman who works in them." Marjorie M
oore hurried away.
"Whew-w!" ejaculated Peter. "Miss Moore does not love me, does she? Icame up only to say a few words. Miss Hamlin is keeping me busy thisafternoon. Come and have some coffee, Miss Thurston. I am sure youlook tired."
"I would rather not," Barbara protested. "I am going to run away upstairsfor a minute, if you will excuse me."
Before Barbara could make her escape from the drawing-room she saw thatPeter Dillon and Mrs. Wilson had both lost their frivolous manner andwere deep in earnest conversation.