"Now let me say once for all, my daughter, that I must be the judge of who is a proper person to be entertained in this household, and I want no more such exhibitions of filial disrespect as you made to-day. I think no explanation is due: but I will tell you that one of the gentlemen who lunched with us to-day is a bishop in his church and a leader of ten million citizens of this country, while Doctor Woods is a graduate of Harvard and Heidelberg, a man whose learning is surpassed by that of very few men in America, and is the very best type of his own race and a creditable product of any race. Both these gentlemen are entirely worthy of your highest respect." "But, papa, they are negroes!" said Elise, emboldened to attempt a defence when her father dropped his browbeating tone and assumed to address her reason. "Negroes?—and what of that? It is not the first time a negro has lunched with a President of the United States. Calm your misgivings by remembering that it is assuredly safe, either socially or politically, to follow any precedent set by Mr. Roosevelt. But further, my daughter, what does the term ’negro’ impute to these men more than a colour of skin? Nothing. My child, ’the man’s the thing,’—his colour is absolutely nothing. A negro must be judged individually, by his own character and ability—you judge white men so. He is not responsible for the whole race, but for himself, and must stand or fall upon his individual merit and not upon his colour or caste. It is the glory of our America that it has but one order of nobility—a man; and when that order is abolished or others established our democratic institutions will be a hollow pretence and our decadence have set in. Heaven defend a daughter of mine should be either dazzled by a tinselled rank or class pretension, or fail to appreciate simple, genuine, personal excellence." Elise was glad enough her father had calmed down and branched off into generalities. She was discreetly, not impudently, silent, and took the first opportunity to retire. * * * * * On that afternoon Elise had met Evans Rutledge and had really found pleasure in his friendliness. She speculated whether his manner would have been quite so cordial if he had known of the luncheon then but two hours past. She had seen no little of him in a casual way since living in Washington, for he was an acceptable visitor at most of the desirable places. With repeated meetings they had come to an unspoken truce, Elise being impelled to friendly simplicity by her very nature, and Rutledge by the love which would not permit him to deny himself any opportunity to be near her despite some rebellious notions of self-respect.