"You are not late, Kate, for dinner has not yet been announced. I had it earlier than usual as I thought we would retire soon afterwards and get a good night's rest." Cynthia shuddered involuntarily, and Eleanor, whose hand rested on her shoulder, patted it affectionately. "It's all very well for you older people to keep early hours, Uncle Dana, but Cynthia and I are going to do just as we please. Personally, I expect to stay up until the wee sma' hours." "Dinner am served," announced Nicodemus, opening the folding doors leading to the dining room, and, with an old-fashioned courtly bow, Colonel Thornton offered his arm to Mrs. Truxton and escorted her to the table, the two girls and Douglas following in their wake. The dinner passed quickly. Thornton was an agreeable talker, and Douglas, who had traveled in many lands, seconded his efforts by recounting many amusing experiences which had befallen him. Cynthia's pale cheeks assumed a more natural hue as the two skilful talkers drew her out of herself, and Thornton sat back, well pleased, when he finally succeeded in making her laugh. "Washington isn't what it used to be," he declared. "As trite a statement as it is true. Its very bigness has spoiled it socially. There are cliques within cliques, and too many foreign elements dominate it nowadays." "Do you refer to the Diplomatic Corps?" asked Douglas, breaking off a low-toned conversation with Eleanor. "Not entirely. When I speak of the 'foreign element,' I also mean the 'climbers.'" "We Georgetown people call them the 'pushers,'" announced Mrs. Truxton, helping herself to the ice cream which Nicodemus was passing. "And yet," continued Thornton, "I dare say there were just as amusing characters in Washington fifty years ago as now." "How about the woman of whom I have heard," asked Eleanor, "who carried off the silver meat skewer at the French Legation, as it was then, as a souvenir, and afterwards proudly used it as a hatpin?" "Human nature is very much the same from one generation to another," acknowledged Mrs. Truxton. "But the types are different. I recollect my grandmother's telling me that she attended services one Sunday at St. John's Episcopal Church on Lafayette Square when the rector preached a fiery sermon against the sin of dueling. Mrs. Alexander Hamilton and her daughter sat in the pew just in front of my grandmother, and she said Miss Hamilton bore the tirade for some minutes, then rose, turned to her mother, and remarked in an audible tone: 'Come, Ma; we'll go. This is no place for us.'" "Come, you needn't put it all on Washington," exclaimed Douglas. "Georgetown has famous blunderers and eccentric characters as well." "And ghosts," added Mrs. Truxton. "Do not deprive Georgetown of its chief attraction. Ghosts and Past Glory walk hand and hand through these old streets."