Once more Louise had good news from her Washington—­Senator Dilworthy was going to sell the Tennessee Land to the government!  Louise told Laura in confidence.  She had told her parents, too, and also several bosom friends; but all of these people had simply looked sad when they heard the news, except Laura.  Laura’s face suddenly brightened under it—­only for an instant, it is true, but poor Louise was grateful for even that fleeting ray of encouragement.  When next Laura was alone, she fell into a train of thought something like this: 

“If the Senator has really taken hold of this matter, I may look for that invitation to his house at, any moment.  I am perishing to go!  I do long to know whether I am only simply a large-sized pigmy among these pigmies here, who tumble over so easily when one strikes them, or whether I am really—.”  Her thoughts drifted into other channels, for a season.  Then she continued:—­ “He said I could be useful in the great cause of philanthropy, and help in the blessed work of uplifting the poor and the ignorant, if he found it feasible to take hold of our Land.  Well, that is neither here nor there; what I want, is to go to Washington and find out what I am.  I want money, too; and if one may judge by what she hears, there are chances there for a—.”  For a fascinating woman, she was going to say, perhaps, but she did not.

Along in the fall the invitation came, sure enough.  It came officially through brother Washington, the private Secretary, who appended a postscript that was brimming with delight over the prospect of seeing the Duchess again.  He said it would be happiness enough to look upon her face once more—­it would be almost too much happiness when to it was added the fact that she would bring messages with her that were fresh from Louise’s lips.

In Washington’s letter were several important enclosures.  For instance, there was the Senator’s check for $2,000—­“to buy suitable clothing in New York with!” It was a loan to be refunded when the Land was sold.  Two thousand—­this was fine indeed.  Louise’s father was called rich, but Laura doubted if Louise had ever had $400 worth of new clothing at one time in her life.  With the check came two through tickets—­good on the railroad from Hawkeye to Washington via New York—­and they were “dead-head” tickets, too, which had been given to Senator Dilworthy by the railway companies.  Senators and representatives were paid thousands of dollars by the government for traveling expenses, but they always traveled “deadhead” both ways, and then did as any honorable, high-minded men would naturally do—­declined to receive the mileage tendered them by the government.  The Senator had plenty of railway passes, and could. easily spare two to Laura—­one for herself and one for a male escort.  Washington suggested that she get some old friend of the family to come with her, and said the Senator would “deadhead” him home again as soon as he had grown tired, of the