She doesn't need any more coaching. Of course, she's flattered by her success. But instead of having her head turned, as most women do who get the least bit of especial attention from the conspicuous men here, she takes it all very placidly. "They don't care shucks for me," she says, "and I know it. We're all in business together, and I'm mighty glad it can be carried on so cheerful-like." At the Cabinet dinner, to-morrow night, she'll have to sit well down toward the foot of the table. But she won't mind that. Indeed, if I hadn't been giving her lessons in precedence she wouldn't have an idea that everything here is arranged by rank. Jessie--so she tells me--had a half-hour's session with "Cyrus" the other day and gave him a very exalted idea of my social position and influence. No doubt, what she said confirmed his suspicion that I and my friends are conspiring against him; but I observe a distinct change in his manner toward me. He's even humble. I suppose he thought I was some miserable creature whom his mother had taken on, half out of charity. I'm afraid I have a sort of family pride that's a little ridiculous--but I can't help it. Still, I am American enough to despise people who are courteous or otherwise, according as they look up to or look down on the particular person's family and position. I guess young Mr. Burke is his father in an aggravated form. Yet Jessie, and Rachel, too, pretend to like him. And probably they really do--it's not hard to like any one who is not asking favors and is in a position to grant them, and isn't so near to one that his quills stick into one. The Countess of Wend came in to see me this afternoon and told me all about the row over at the legation. It seems that the new minister is a plebeian, and in their country people of his sort aren't noticed by the upper classes unless an upper-class man happens to need something to wipe his boots on and one of them is convenient for use. Well, every attaché is in a fury, and none of them will speak to the minister except in the most formal way and only when it's absolutely necessary. As for the minister's wife, the other women--but what's the use of describing it; we all know how nasty women can be about matters of rank. The Count is talking seriously of resigning. I'd be dreadfully sorry, as Eugenie is a dear, more like an American than a foreigner; and I believe she really likes us, where most of them privately despise us as a lot of low-born upstarts. I know they laugh all day long at the President's queer manners and mannerisms--but then, so do we, for that matter. And it's quite unusual for Washington, where each President is bowed down to and praised everywhere and flattered till he thinks he's a sort of god--and forgotten as soon as his term is ended. I suppose there's nothing deader on this earth than an ex-President, with no offices to distribute and no hopes for a further political career.