“I think,” said Olivia, propping her rounded chin on her hand, “I should like to go to a ball. I have not been to a real ball for six years--not since we left Paris. You may be surprised at this frivolity in one of my years--you know I am getting out of my twenties awfully fast--but it is still a fact.” “Your age is certainly imposing. There is a superb ball to be given at the Russian Legation next week--the Minister is a new man--just come. I received a card, and I can get one for you and your father through one of the secretaries of legation who is my friend.” Pembroke produced a handsome invitation card, bearing the name of the Russian Minister and Madame Volkonsky. Olivia’s eyes sparkled. She loved balls as the normal girl always does. “And I shall go out to-morrow morning and buy a ball gown. Shall I have white tulle and water lilies, or peach-blow satin?” “White, by all means,” answered Pembroke, gravely. “I like to see women in white.” “A white gown,” continued Olivia, reflectively, “is always safest.” “I suppose, you will go to balls all the time after this one. It will be like the first taste of blood to a tiger.” “Yes, after a long period of--what do you call it--graminivorous diet. By the way, some friends of yours came to see me to-day. The De Peysters.” “Yes, I like them very much. Helena is a charming little thing.” “Delightful girl,” echoed Olivia, with much more emphasis than the subject required. Pembroke had only intended to pay an ordinary afternoon call, but it was so unexpectedly pleasant sitting there with Olivia that the fall of night and the Colonel’s return both took him unawares. The Colonel was delighted to see him. “This is pleasant,” cried he, standing with his broad back to the fire, and stroking his white mustache. “I brought my riding horse up, and Olivia’s, too, and I sent Petrarch around this morning to make a permanent arrangement. The rogue of a livery man asked me such a stupendous price that I was forced to send him word I didn’t desire board for myself and my daughter included with the horses. Ah, times are changed--times are changed! Sad lot of you in public life now, begad.” “Very sad lot, sir.” “If we could only get back to Old Hickory in the White House, and the mail twice a week from New York, brought in the stage coach--” “And Old Hickory’s _penchant_ for Mrs. Eaton, and half the Congress getting tight at the White House New Year’s Day. We ought to have it all.” “Yes--yes--Zounds, sir, we ought to have it all!” Then there was the ball to talk about, and presently, Pembroke declining the Colonel’s hearty invitation to stay and dine off whatever miserable fare a city market afforded, and try some port he had brought from Virginia, knowing there was nothing fit to drink to be had in Washington, he left. Olivia’s invitation to stay was rather faint--had it been heartier, perhaps he might have remained. As it was, he went home, and surprised Miles by coming in whistling jovially.