Absorbed, we almost forgot Aunt Betty Jennings—­stout, radiant, snub-nosed, arch-browed and curious, Elisabeth’s chaperon.  On the whole, I was glad Aunt Betty Jennings was there.  When a soldier approaches a point of danger, he does not despise the cover of natural objects.  Aunt Betty appeared to me simply as a natural object at the time.  I sought her shelter.

“Aunt Betty,” said I, as I took her hand; “Aunt Betty, have we told you, Elisabeth and I?”

I saw Elisabeth straighten in perplexity, doubt or horror, but I went on.

“Yes, Elisabeth and I—­”

“You dear children!” gurgled Aunt Betty.

“Congratulate us both!” I demanded, and I put Elisabeth’s hand, covered with my own, into the short and chubby fingers of that estimable lady.  Whenever Elisabeth attempted to open her lips I opened mine before, and I so overwhelmed dear Aunt Betty Jennings with protestations of my regard for her, my interest in her family, her other nieces, her chickens, her kittens, her home—­I so quieted all her questions by assertions and demands and exclamations, and declarations that Mr. Daniel Churchill had given his consent, that I swear for the moment even Elisabeth believed that what I had said was indeed true.  At least, I can testify she made no formal denial, although the dimple was now frightened out of sight.

Admirable Aunt Betty Jennings!  She forestalled every assertion I made, herself bubbling and blushing in sheer delight.  Nor did she lack in charity.  Tapping me with her fan lightly, she exclaimed:  “You rogue!  I know that you two want to be alone; that is what you want.  Now I am going away—­just down the room.  You will ride home with us after a time, I am sure?”

Adorable Aunt Betty Jennings!  Elisabeth and I looked at her comfortable back for some moments before I turned, laughing, to look Elisabeth in the eyes.

“You had no right—­” began she, her face growing pink.

“Every right!” said I, and managed to find a place for our two hands under cover of the wide flounces of her figured lawn as we stood, both blushing.  “I have every right.  I have truly just seen your father.  I have just come from him.”

She looked at me intently, glowingly, happily.

“I could not wait any longer,” I went on.  “Within a week I am going to have an office of my own.  Let us wait no longer.  I have waited long enough.  Now—­”

I babbled on, and she listened.  It was strange place enough for a betrothal, but there at least I said the words which bound me; and in the look Elisabeth gave me I saw her answer.  Her eyes were wide and straight and solemn.  She did not smile.

As we stood, with small opportunity and perhaps less inclination for much conversation, my eyes chanced to turn toward the main entrance door of the East Room.  I saw, pushing through, a certain page, a young boy of good family, who was employed by Mr. Calhoun as messenger.  He knew me perfectly well, as he did almost every one else in Washington, and with precocious intelligence his gaze picked me out in all that throng.