"That is splendid!" Goddard's face lighted with pleasure, then fell. "How about your passes? Shall I ask Secretary Stanton for them?" "Young man, when I want a thing, I go to headquarters for it; so I am on my way to see President Lincoln now. I reckon he will give them to me. Many thanks, all the same," she wound up, conscious she had been abrupt in her refusal. "May I walk up to the White House with you, then?" "I will be glad of your company, but Nancy is not going with me." Her eyes twinkled as she saw Goddard's disappointment. "Secondly, I am not walking this morning. Nancy is just waiting to put me on that new Yankee contraption, the horse car." "Here comes one now." Nancy pointed to that slow-moving vehicle as it toiled leisurely up the avenue. "Of all the miserable inventions," groaned Miss Metoaca, glancing with indignation at the ankle-deep mud that lay between her and the car track. "Why don't they fix it so it can come over here and take in its passengers? What does anyone want with a stationary track way off yonder? Nancy, keep that dratted dog from under my skirts," indignantly, as her hoop tilted at a dangerous angle. "Don't you let him follow me; I won't have mud splashed over my new dress." Nancy clutched Misery's collar obediently. "Well, here goes." Gathering her ample skirts about her, and with Goddard in close attendance rendering what assistance he could, the spinster plunged through the mud until she reached the car step, by the side of which hung two pictures of a woman, illustrating the proper and improper way to get on and off a car. Miss Metoaca paused to take breath and readjust her Fanchon bonnet. As she was about to enter the car, she noticed a grinning black boy standing with one foot on the step. "Where's that nigger going?" she demanded of the conductor. "On top, ma'am," he answered respectfully. Her question was overheard by a man in clerical dress who sat next the door, and, as she took the seat opposite, he leaned across and addressed her. "You evidently forget, madam," he said severely, "that the blacks are the Lord's people as well as we, and are entitled to go where we go, being good and free Americans." "If the good Lord intended those worthless niggers to be my equals, He'd have bleached them out," retorted Miss Metoaca, the light of combat in her eyes. Goddard waited to hear no more, but bolted out of the door and across the Avenue to where Nancy stood waiting, and they walked slowly in the direction of Capitol Hill. "I am a stranger within your gates," quoted Goddard softly. "Take pity on me, and tell me something about the people I met last night at Mrs. Warren's." "Let me see, whom did you meet? Oh, yes, Doctor John. He is the most cantankerous and the dearest man I ever met. His patients positively worship him, and yet he has many enemies who would gladly see him humiliated."