“These side doors keep out the drafts,” as he spoke Tom swung his car around the circle and continued down the avenue. “How would you like to go out to Bladensburg and see the battlefield?” “Isn’t that too far?” “No; it’s only about five miles from here, we’ll do it in no time,” and not waiting for an answer, Tom accelerated the motor, and they shot past several carriages and automobiles. In a short time he swung the car into H Street. That thoroughfare being comparatively free of traffic, he turned to his silent companion. “Why did Marjorie leave the dance so early last night?” “She had a bad sick headache, poor dear,” with careless compassion. “I don’t think Marjorie’s very strong.” “She isn’t exactly robust, but I wouldn’t call her delicate,” replied Tom. “How is she today?” “Apparently all right again,” Janet filled her lungs with delicious cold air. “Mother says Marjorie has too much on her mind; perhaps that is the reason she is so distrait lately.” “It must be that, usually she is the cheeriest soul imaginable,” Tom sounded his siren as he cut across an intersecting street. “I’m afraid Marjorie sees too much of----” he stopped, and his face clouded. His code of honor prevented him from running down a possible rival behind his back; and rumor had it that Janet was captivated by Barnard’s handsome face and charm of manner, nor could he hurt her by speaking of Barnard’s past infatuation for Marjorie. It would not be playing fair to Marjorie; he could not make trouble between the two girls. In his heart he vowed Barnard should not win Janet. “Marjorie has seen too much of hard times,” he amended. “Financial difficulties play hob with a person’s physical and mental condition.” “Mental condition,” repeated Janet thoughtfully. “I wonder if that accounts for----take care----oh, why will children play in the streets?” as Tom swerved the car just in time to avoid running over a little pickaninny. “Sorry I frightened you,” he said contritely, turning the car into the Bladensburg Pike. “Have you ever been out this way?” “No. Where did you say we are going?” “Bladensburg; it’s a quaint old-fashioned little town and of historic interest because the Battle of Bladensburg was fought there in 1814....” “When the British defeated our troops and captured Washington?” “Correct. I’m glad to see, Miss Janet, you know American history. Not long ago I was asked to meet some _nouveaux riches_ at dinner, and an American girl, who is now an English countess, broke into a discussion about Gettysburg to ask in a soft drawl: ‘Gettysburg? What _is_ Gettysburg?’” They had left the city’s unattractive outskirts behind, and were passing through more open country, and Janet, delighted and light-hearted, sat silently watching the landscape with ever-increasing interest.