“Aren’t you a Virginian by blood?  Most all Kentuckians are.”

“Partly.  My great grandfather, though, was born in Maryland.”

“What was his name, Lieutenant Kenton?”

“Henry Ware!”

“Henry Ware!  Kentucky’s first and greatest governor.”

“Yes, he was my great grandfather.  I’m proud to be his descendant.”

“I should think you would be.”

“But his wife, who was Lucy Upton, my great grandmother, was of Virginia blood, and all of the next two generations intermarried with people of Virginia stock.”

“Then you are a Kentuckian and a Virginian, too.  I knew it!  You have a middle name, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me what it is?”

“Cary.”

The girl laughed.

“Harry Cary Kenton.  Why Cary is one of our best old Virginia names.  Will you tell me too what was your mother’s name before she was married?”

“Parham.”

“Another.  Oh, all this unravels finely.  And what was your grandmother’s name?”

“Brent.”

“Nothing could be more Virginian than Brent.  Oh, you’re one of us, Lieutenant Kenton, a real Virginian of the true blood.”

“And heart and soul too!” giving her one of his finest young military glances.

She laughed.  It was only quick friendship between them and no more, and a half-hour later he was dancing with another Virginia girl, not so blonde, but just as handsome, and their talk was quite as friendly.  Her name was Lockridge, and as they sat down near the musicians to rest, and listen a while, Harry saw a figure, slender and black-robed, pass.  He knew at once who she was, and it had been predicted that he might meet her there, but she had stirred his curiosity a little, and thinking he might obtain further information he asked Miss Lockridge: 

“Who is the woman who just passed us?”

“That’s Miss Carden, Miss Henrietta Carden, a sewing woman, very capable too, who always helps at the big balls.  Mrs. Curtis relies greatly upon her.  The door through which she went leads to the ladies’ dressing-room.”

“A native of Richmond?”

“I don’t know.  But why are you so curious about a sewing woman, Lieutenant Kenton?”

Harry flushed.  There was a faint tinge of rebuke in her words, and he knew that he merited it.

“It was just an idle question,” he replied quickly, and with an air of indifference.  “I noticed her on the train when we came into the capital, and we are so little used to women that we are inquisitive about every one whom we see.  Why, Miss Lockridge, I didn’t realize until I came to this ball that women could be so extraordinarily beautiful.  Every one of you looks like an angel, just lowered gently from Heaven.”

“If you’re not merely a flatterer then it’s long absence that gives charm.  I assure you, Lieutenant Kenton, that we’re very, very common clay.  You should see us eat.”