“I couldn’t imagine what had become of you, Janet,” she said, coming forward and throwing off her lace shawl.  “Whom have you found—­a school friend?”

“No, Mamma,” said Janet, “this is Cynthia Wetherell.”  “Oh,” said Mrs. Duncan, looking very hard at Cynthia in a near-sighted way, and, not knowing in the least who she was; “you haven’t seen Senator and Mrs. Meade, have you, Janet?  They were to be here at eight o’clock.”

“No,” said Janet, turning again to Cynthia and scarcely hearing the question.

“Janet hasn’t seen them, Dudley,” said Mrs. Duncan, going up to Mr. Worthington, who was pulling his chop whiskers by the door.  “Janet has discovered such a beautiful creature,” she went on, in a voice which she did not take the trouble to lower.  “Do look at her, Alexander.  And you, Mr. Sutton—­who are such a bureau of useful information, do tell me who she is.  Perhaps she comes from your part of the country—­her name’s Wetherell.”

“Wetherell?  Why, of course I know her,” said Mr. Sutton, who was greatly pleased because Mrs. Duncan had likened him to an almanac:  greatly pleased this evening in every respect, and even the diamond in his bosom seemed to glow with a brighter fire.  He could afford to be generous to-night, and he turned to Mr. Worthington and laughed knowingly.  “She’s the ward of our friend Jethro,” he explained.

“What is she?” demanded Mrs. Duncan, who knew and cared nothing about politics, a country girl, I suppose.”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Sutton, “a country girl from a little village not far from Clovelly.  A good girl, I believe, in spite of the atmosphere in which she has been raised.”

“It’s really wonderful, Mr. Sutton, how you seem to know every one in your district, including the women and children,” said the lady; “but I suppose you wouldn’t be where you are if you didn’t.”

The Honorable Heth cleared his throat.

“Wetherell,” Mr. Duncan was saying, staring at Cynthia through his spectacles, “where have I heard that name?”

He must suddenly have remembered, and recalled also that he and his ally Worthington had been on opposite sides in the Woodchuck Session, for he sat down abruptly beside the door, and remained there for a while.  For Mr. Duncan had never believed Mr. Merrill’s explanation concerning poor William Wetherell’ s conduct.

“Pretty, ain’t she?” said Mr. Sutton to Mr. Worthington.  “Guess she’s more dangerous than Jethro, now that we’ve clipped his wings a little.”  The congressman had heard of Bob’s infatuation.

Isaac D. Worthington, however, was in a good humor this evening and was moved by a certain curiosity to inspect the girl.  Though what he had seen and heard of his son’s conduct with her had annoyed him, he did not regard it seriously.

“Aren’t you going to speak to your constituent, Mr. Sutton?” said Mrs. Duncan, who was bored because her friends had not arrived; “a congressman ought to keep on the right side of the pretty girls, you know.”