She had spared no pains to honour her guests. She still scorned the
plutocratic multiplication of flowers until they seemed to rattle like
the dollars they stood for, but the table looked very beautiful, and
the silver and china and crystal had endured through several
generations. Some of it had been used in the White House in the days
when it was an honour to have a President in one's family. Her
father's wine-cellar had been celebrated, and she had employed
connoisseurs in its replenishment ever since the duties of
entertaining had devolved upon her. She also had her own _chef,_ and
knew with what satisfaction he filled the culinary brain-cells of the
patient diner out in Washington. All the lower house was softly lit
with candles; except her boudoir, which was dark and locked.

She wore a gown of apple-green satin which looked simple and was not.
Mrs. Madison was like an exquisite miniature, in satin of a pinkish
gray hue, trimmed with much Alencon, a collar of diamonds, and a pink
spray in her soft white hair. Her blue eyes were very bright, and
there was a pink colour in her cheeks, but she looked better than she
felt. She was, indeed, hot and cold by turns, and she held herself
with a majesty of mien which only a tiny woman can accomplish.

Sally Carter was the first to arrive, and looked remarkably well in
her black velvet of Custom House indignities. The Montgomerys
followed, and Lady Mary wore the azure and white in which she appeared
harmless and undiplomatic. No one was more than ten minutes late, and
at eight o'clock the party was seated about the great round table in
the dining-room.

Senator North sat on Betty's right, Senator Ward on her left. Next to