“And her eyes?—­I have heard of them—­benevolent, yet sparkling;—­and a daughter of the Schuylers.  Hamilton, believe me, there are worse things than love.”

“But I have affairs of the utmost moment on hand at present.  I’m revolving a whole financial system, and the correspondence grows heavier every day.  I’ve no time for love.”

“My boy,” said the former aide to the great Frederick, with emphasis, “when you can work in the sun, why cling to the cold corner of a public hearth?  Your brain will spin the faster for the fire underneath.  You will write great words and be happy besides.  Think of that.  What a combination!  Mein Gott!  You will be terribly in love, my son, but your balance is so extraordinary that your brain will work on just the same.  Otherwise I would not dare give such counsel, for without you General Washington would give up, and your poor old Steuben would not have money for tobacco.  Give me just one half-sovereign,” he added coaxingly.

Hamilton examined the big tobacco pouch and found it two-thirds full.  “Not a penny,” he said gaily.  “The day after to-morrow I will buy you some myself, but I know where that last sovereign went to.”

Hamilton took care of the old spendthrift’s money, and not only then but as long as he lived.  “The Secretary of the Treasury is my banker,” said Steuben, years after.  “My Hamilton takes care of my money when he cannot take care of his own.”

Hamilton retired in some perturbation, and the result of much thinking was that he spent an unconscionable time over his toilet on the evening of the dinner.  In his nervousness he tore one of his lace ruffles.  Laurens attempted to mend it, and the rent waxed.  Hamilton was forced to knock at Mrs. Washington’s door and ask her to repair the injury.  She was already dressed, in a black lutestring, her hair flat and natural.  She looked approvingly at Hamilton, who, not excepting Laurens, was always the most faultlessly dressed member of the family.  To-night he wore dark green velvet, fitting closely and exquisitely cut, white silk stockings, and a profusion of delicate lace.  His hair was worn in a queue and powdered.  It was not till some years later that he conformed to the prevailing fashion and wore a wig.

Mrs. Washington mended the lace, retied the bow of his queue, kissed him and told him to forget the cares of war and correspondence, and enjoy himself.  Hamilton retired, much comforted.

It was an imposing family which, a half-hour later, awaited the guests in the drawing-room.  Washington was in black velvet and silk stockings, his best white wig spreading in two symmetrical wings.  It was a cold grave figure always, and threw an air of solemnity over every scene it loomed upon, which only Hamilton’s lively wit could dispel.  Laurens wore plum-coloured velvet and much lace, a magnificent court costume.  His own figure was no less majestic than Washington’s, but his brown eyes and full mouth were almost invariably smiling, despite the canker.  He wore a very close wig.  Tilghman was in blue, the other men in more sober dress.  Lafayette some time since had departed for France, Hamilton having suggested that the introduction of a French military force of six or seven thousand troops would have a powerful effect upon the American army and people.