“Don’t you like them?” asked Dan of Miss Anderson; he meant the Southern negroes.

“I adoye them,” she responded, with equal fervour.  “You must study some new types here for next summer,” she added.

Dan laughed and winced too.  “Yes!” Then he said solemnly, “I am not going to Campobello next summer.”

They felt into a stream of people tending toward an archway between the drawing-rooms, where Mrs. Secretary Miller stood with two lady friends who were helping her receive.  They smiled wearily but kindly upon the crowd, for whom the Secretary’s wife had a look of impartial hospitality.  She could not have known more than one in fifty; and she met them all with this look at first, breaking into incredulous recognition when she found a friend.  “Don’t go away yet,” she said cordially, to Miss Van Hook and her niece, and she held their hands for a moment with a gentle look of relief and appeal which included Dan.  “Let me introduce you to Mrs. Tolliver and to Miss Dixon.”

These ladies said that it was not necessary in regard to Miss Anderson and Miss Van Hook; and as the crowd pushed them on, Dan felt that they had been received with distinction.

The crowd expressed the national variety of rich and poor, plain and fashionable, urbane and rustic; they elbowed and shouldered each other upon a perfect equality in a place where all were as free to come as to the White House, and they jostled quaint groups of almond-eyed legations in the yellows and purples of the East, who looked dreamily on as if puzzled past all surmise by the scene.  Certain young gentlemen with the unmistakable air of being European or South American attaches found their way about on their little feet, which the stalwart boots of the republican masses must have imperilled; and smiled with a faint diplomatic superiority, not visibly admitted, but all the same indisputable.  Several of these seemed to know Miss Anderson, and took her presentation of Mavering with exaggerated effusion.

“I want to introduce you to my cousin over yonder,” she said, getting rid of a minute Brazilian under-secretary, and putting her hand on Dan’s arm to direct him:  “Mrs. Justice Averill.”

Miss Van Hook, keeping her look of severe vigilance, really followed her energetic niece, who took the lead, as a young lady must whenever she and her chaperon meet on equal terms.

Mrs. Justice Averill, who was from the far West somewhere, received Dan with the ease of the far East, and was talking London and Paris to him before the end of the third minute.  It gave Dan a sense of liberation, of expansion; he filled his lungs with the cosmopolitan air in a sort of intoxication; without formulating it, he felt, with the astonishment which must always attend the Bostonian’s perception of the fact, that there is a great social life in America outside of Boston.  At Campobello he had thought Miss Anderson a very jolly girl, bright, and up to all