“Good morning, Miss Hawkins.  Delighted.  Mr. Hawkins.  My friend, Miss Medlar.”

Mr. Hawkins, who was endeavoring to square himself for a bow, put his foot through the train of Mrs. Senator Poplin, who looked round with a scowl, which turned into a smile as she saw who it was.  In extricating himself, Mr. Hawkins, who had the care of his hat as well as the introduction on his mind, shambled against Miss Blanche, who said pardon, with the prettiest accent, as if the awkwardness were her own.  And Mr. Hawkins righted himself.

“Don’t you find it very warm to-day, Mr. Hawkins?” said Blanche, by way of a remark.

“It’s awful hot,” said Washington.

“It’s warm for the season,” continued Blanche pleasantly.  “But I suppose you are accustomed to it,” she added, with a general idea that the thermometer always stands at 90 deg. in all parts of the late slave states.  “Washington weather generally cannot be very congenial to you?”

“It’s congenial,” said Washington brightening up, “when it’s not congealed.”

“That’s very good.  Did you hear, Grace, Mr. Hawkins says it’s congenial when it’s not congealed.”

“What is, dear?” said Grace, who was talking with Laura.

The conversation was now finely under way.  Washington launched out an observation of his own.

“Did you see those Japs, Miss Leavitt?”

“Oh, yes, aren’t they queer.  But so high-bred, so picturesque.  Do you think that color makes any difference, Mr. Hawkins?  I used to be so prejudiced against color.”

“Did you?  I never was.  I used to think my old mammy was handsome.”

“How interesting your life must have been!  I should like to hear about it.”

Washington was about settling himself into his narrative style, when Mrs. Gen. McFingal caught his eye.

“Have you been at the Capitol to-day, Mr. Hawkins?”

Washington had not.  “Is anything uncommon going on?”

“They say it was very exciting.  The Alabama business you know.  Gen. Sutler, of Massachusetts, defied England, and they say he wants war.”

“He wants to make himself conspicuous more like,” said Laura.  “He always, you have noticed, talks with one eye on the gallery, while the other is on the speaker.”

“Well, my husband says, its nonsense to talk of war, and wicked.  He knows what war is.  If we do have war, I hope it will be for the patriots of Cuba.  Don’t you think we want Cuba, Mr. Hawkins?”

“I think we want it bad,” said Washington.  “And Santo Domingo.  Senator Dilworthy says, we are bound to extend our religion over the isles of the sea.  We’ve got to round out our territory, and—­”

Washington’s further observations were broken off by Laura, who whisked him off to another part of the room, and reminded him that they must make their adieux.

“How stupid and tiresome these people are,” she said.  “Let’s go.”