“By-the-way, General,” said the visitor, breaking off suddenly from his conversation with Mrs. Gaston, and turning to address her husband, as if struck with a sudden thought; “are you invited to this supper of General Morton’s?” Imperceptible bristles began to rise over General Gaston’s surface. He drew himself still more erect, and cleared his throat once or twice before answering. “Ah--I beg your pardon--ah--yes,” said General Gaston, with an inflection that suggested that he was rather asking a question than answering one. He cleared his throat again and went on, with a certain superciliousness that Margaret noted carefully. “General Morton has been kind enough to remember me and send me a card. There is always a very distinguished company at these suppers of his, and I shouldn’t think of missing this.” “Loose wants me to go,” responded General Reardon, in indolent, indifferent tones that set Margaret’s blood a-tingling with delight; “but I don’t care anything about it. I s’pose the men’ll all wear swallow-tails, and I haven’t got one. I’ll tell Morton he’ll have to let me off.--What I was going to tell you about the potato crop, is this,” he said, returning to his conversation with Mrs. Gaston, as being the more interesting of the two. “Loose says, if we’d planted Early Rose----” But Margaret listened no further. She knew Louis was looking at her, and she had drawn down the corners of her mouth, demurely, in her efforts not to laugh; but her eyes brimmed over with such sparkling merriment, that the mouth’s quiescence went for little. Mr. Gaston presently drew out his watch, and reminded Miss Trevennon of the fact that it was nearly time to set out for the theatre, in fulfilment of their engagement, so she excused herself, and went to put on her wraps. When the two young people found themselves alone together, in the clear, bracing atmosphere of the city streets--they had chosen to walk--Margaret began the conversation by saying: “Alan Decourcy called while we were out driving this morning. I hope we shall not happen to be in view of the theatre-party to night; it would be a little awkward, as we both refused to join it.” “Not at all,” said Louis, “they need never know but that our engagement antedated their invitation. Don’t give yourself any uneasiness about that.” When they had gone on a few moments in silence, Louis said in his pleasant voice, which even in the darkness indicated that he was smiling: “Well, you had your little triumph this evening!” “I did,” returned Margaret, with a soft, little laugh, “and I must say I enjoyed it. But I was wondering how he happened to know General Morton.” “Oh, I dare say they were chums in the United States Army, before the war,” said Louis. “Only think what a chance that man threw away! Why, if he had remained in the Union army he might have been a Major-General by this time.” “He is a Major-General, I think,” said Margaret, demurely; “or is it only a Brigadier?”