thing now and then; and he liked that, too, and was greatly amused by it. He liked women to be sharp, if they were not keen enough to interfere with masculine prerogatives. There was only one person in the company he did not find exhilarating, and that was a large, brown-faced fellow, who sat next to Mrs. Merriam, and said less than might have been expected of him, though, when he spoke, his remarks were well enough in their way. Blundel mentioned him afterward to Bertha when they returned to the parlor. "That colonel, who is he?" he asked her. "I didn't catch his name exactly. Handsome fellow; but he'd be handsomer if"-- "It is the part of wisdom to stop you," said Bertha, "and tell you that he is a sort of cousin of mine, and his perfections are such as I regard with awe. His name is Colonel Tredennis, and you have read of him in the newspapers." "What!" he exclaimed, turning his sharp little eyes upon Tredennis,--"the Indian man? I'm glad you told me that. I want to talk to him." And, an opportunity being given him, he proceeded to do so with much animation, ruffling his stiff hair up at intervals in his interest, his little eyes twinkling like those of some alert animal. He left the house late and in the best of humors. He had forgotten for the time being all questions of bills and subsidies. Nothing had occurred to remind him of such subjects. Their very existence seemed a trifle problematical, or, rather, perhaps it seemed desirable that it should be so. "I feel," he said to Planefield, as he was shrugging himself into his overcoat, "as if I had rather missed it by not coming here before." "You were asked," answered Planefield. "So I was," he replied, attacking the top button of the overcoat. "Well, the next time I am asked I suppose I shall come." Then he gave his attention to the rest of the buttons. "A man in public life ought to see all sides of his public," he said, having disposed of the last one. "Said some good things, didn't they? The little woman isn't without a mind of her own, either. When is it she receives?" "Thursdays," said Planefield. "Ah, Thursdays." And they went out in company. Her guests having all departed, Bertha remained for a few minutes in the parlor. Arbuthnot and Tredennis went out last, and as the door closed upon them she looked at Richard. "Well?" she said. "Well!" exclaimed Richard. "It could not have been better!" "Couldn't it?" she said, looking down a little meditatively. "No," he responded, with excellent good cheer, "and you see how simple it was, and--and how unnecessary it is to exaggerate it and call it by unpleasant names. What we want is merely to come in contact with these people, and show them how perfectly harmless we are, and that when the time comes they may favor us without injury to themselves or any one else. That's it in a nutshell."