“Do you know,” said Leonore, “that this is almost our last ride together?”

“Don’t jerk the reins needlessly, Peter,” said Mutineer, crossly.

“I hope not,” said Peter.

“We have changed our plans.  Instead of going to Newport next week, I have at last persuaded papa to travel a little, so that I can see something of my own country, and not be so shamefully ignorant.  We are going to Washington on Saturday, and from there to California, and then through the Yellowstone, and back by Niagara.  We shan’t be in Newport till the middle of August”

Peter did not die at once.  He caught at a life-preserver of a most delightful description.  “That will be a very enjoyable trip,” he said.  “I should like to go myself.”

“There is no one I would rather have than you,” said Leonore, laying her little hand softly on the wound she had herself just made, in a way which women have.  Then she stabbed again.  “But we think it pleasanter to have it just a party of four.”

“How long shall you be in Washington?” asked Peter, catching wildly at a straw this time.

“For a week.  Why?”

“The President has been wanting to see me, and I thought I might run down next week,”

’"Dear me,” thought Leonore.  “How very persistent he is!”

“Where will you put up?” said Peter.

“We haven’t decided.  Where shall you stay?” she had the brutality to ask.

“The President wants me with him, but I may go to a hotel.  It leaves one so much freer.”  Peter was a lawyer, and saw no need of committing himself.  “If I am there when you are, I can perhaps help you enjoy yourself.  I think I can get you a lunch at the White House, and, as I know most of the officials, I have an open sesame to some other nice things.”  Poor Peter!  He was trying to tempt Leonore to tolerate his company by offering attractions in connection therewith.  A chromo with the pound of tea.  And this from the man who had thought flowers and bon-bons bribery!

“Why does the President want to see you?”

“To talk politics.”

“About the governorship?”

“Yes.  Though we don’t say so.”

“Is it true, Peter, that you can decide who it is to be as the papers say?”

“No, I would give twenty-five thousand dollars to-day if I could name the Democratic nominee.”

“Why?”

“Would you mind my not telling you?”

“Yes.  I want to know.  And you are to tell me,” said her majesty, calmly.

“I will tell you, though it is a secret, if you will tell me a secret of yours which I want to know.”

“No,” said Leonore.  “I don’t think that’s necessary.  You are to tell me without making me promise anything.”  Leonore might deprecate a man’s falling in love with her, but she had no objection to the power and perquisites it involved.

“Then I shan’t tell you,” said Peter, making a tremendous rally.