“It would be of more pleasure to me if you came at the half of five, my Buzz,” I made a hurry to assure him, for I had a great dread of all of the falsehoods I was to say to that Madam Whitworth that afternoon for the purpose of extracting perhaps a little wicked truth from her to help in the defense of my Gouverneur Faulkner.

“I’m on,” answered my Buzz promptly.  “Beat it!  I hear the old boy growling.”  And he disappeared behind the door of my Uncle, the General Robert.  I went to the duty of assuring the nice gentleman in very rough clothing that the Gouverneur would in the morning read the paper on the subject of making a long road past his property in good condition by a vote, and I was of a very great success in my efforts, the good Cato assured me.

“You’s got a fine oiled tongue tied in the middle and loose at both ends, honey.  Yo’ father had the same,” he assured me as he handed me my hat and walking cane at the hour of four, which ended my duties for the day.  Roberta, Marquise of Grez and Bye, did so long to go into that room of the Gouverneur Faulkner and receive upon her hand one nice kiss of good night from him, but Mr. Robert Carruthers walked down from the Capitol and only paused to lift for a little second his very handsome hat towards the window of His Excellency’s room high up above.

And the encounter with the beautiful Madam Whitworth was much worse than I had thought that it would be, though also it was of a very interesting excitement.  She had made armaments for the encounter in the shape of a very lovely tea apparel of an increditable thinness to be used for covering, a little low fire in the golden grate, and curtains of rose to throw somewhat of glow over the situation.  Immediately I was seated beside her on a small divan upon which there was room for only one and a half persons, and my stupidity was called into vigorous action.

“I suppose you have spent the day in translating a lot of those long and tiresome French documents for the General and the Governor.  Thank goodness, that is no longer my task,” she remarked as she tipped the cognac bottle over my tea and handed the cup to me.

“It is of a great fatigue to work upon a matter that one does not at all understand,” I answered her as I sipped at that tea of a very disagreeable taste because of the cognac.

“Did they give you the two sets of specifications to compare?” she asked of me with not much of interest apparent in her manner, though her hand shook as she poured for herself a very small cup of tea, which was then filled complete with the cognac.

“Helas,” I answered with a sigh.  “And it is impossible for me to add more figures to each other than my fingers will allow.  I cannot even use my toes.”

“Then he didn’t get them ready for the conference this afternoon?” she demanded with a great illumination of joy in her face.

“Oh, indeed, I handed them back completed to His Excellency in a short space of time.  Is not one mule like to another exactly, and why should a paper make them different?” I questioned with deceit of stupidity.