“Miss Carew,” he said, “I believe you mean it.”

“Mean what?”

“That it’s a lovely head.”

“It is.”  The dark eyes were shining.  “You were so tall that I could see you above the people, and Roger had described how you would look.  Mary Ballard had said you would surely be here to meet me, and now—­oh, I’m really in Washington!”

If she had said, “I’m really in Paradise,” it could not have expressed more supreme bliss.

“I never expected to be here,” Cousin Patty went on to explain, as they crossed the concourse, and Porter guided her through the crowd.  “I never expected it.  And now Roger’s beautiful Mary Ballard has promised to show me everything.”

Roger’s beautiful Mary Ballard, indeed!

“Miss Ballard,” he said, stiffly, “is taking a week off from her work.  And she is going to devote it to sightseeing with you.”

“Yes, Roger told me.  Is that Mary smiling from that big car?  Oh, Mary Ballard, I knew you’d be just—­like this.”

Well, nobody could resist Cousin Patty.  There was that in her charming voice, in her vivid personality which set her apart from other middle-aged and well-bred women of her type.

Porter made a wide sweep to take in the Capitol and the Library; then he flew up the Avenue, disfigured now by the stands from which people were to view the parade.

But Cousin Patty’s eyes went beyond the stand to the tall straight shaft of the Monument in the distance, and when they passed the White House, she simply settled back in her seat and sighed.

“To think that, after all these years, there’ll be a gentleman and a scholar to live there.”

“There have been other scholars—­and gentlemen,” Mary reminded her.

“Of course, my dear.  But this is different.  You see, in our section of the country a Republican is just a—­Republican.  And a Democrat is a—­gentleman.”

Mary’s eyes were dancing.  “Cousin Patty,” she said, “may I call you Cousin Patty?  What will you do when women vote?  Will the women who are Republicans be ladies?”

“Oh, now you are laughing at me,” Cousin Patty said, helplessly.

Mary gave Cousin Patty the suite next to Aunt Isabelle’s, and the two gentle ladies smiled and kissed in the fashion of their time, and became friends at once.

When Cousin Patty had unpacked her bag, and had put all of her nice little belongings away, she tripped across the threshold of the door between the two rooms, to talk to Aunt Isabelle.

“Mary said that we should be going to the theater to-night with Mr. Bigelow.  You must tell me what to wear, please.  You see I’ve been out of the world so long.”

“But you are more of it than I,” Aunt Isabelle reminded her.

Cousin Patty, in her pretty wrapper, sat down in a rocking-chair comfortably to discuss it.  “What do you mean?”

“Mary has been telling me how far ahead of me your thoughts have flown.  You’re taking up all the new questions, and you’re a successful woman of business.  I have envied you ever since I heard about the wedding cake.”