"Well, Miss Patty, I am sixteen and in long gowns; and next winter I expect to go to balls and parties, and be presented at the White House. Oh, I wish it was a court!"
A young fellow, astride the low window seat, laughed with a teasing, bantering sound in his voice, and his deep eyes were alight with mirth.
"You think you are a great patriot, Jacky, but you hanker after the fleshpots of Egypt and royalty, when we have fought for our freedom and gained our independence and set a noble example to the downtrodden nations of Europe. Sighing for a king and a court!"
"I'm not sighing. One can think of a thing without wishing it—"
"And he called you Jacky!" cried Patty, with a certain triumph ringing in her tone.
"Father said you were not to." Jaqueline Mason raised her head with dignity. "I used to think it rather funny when I was romping round, and it teased Aunt Catharine; but I hate it now, and I've given up romping. There is a great difference."
"And Cousin Annis is eager to hear about her side. You hardly know which side you are on yourself."
She gave him a withering look, and turned to the little girl who stood in a shrinking attitude, and whose eyes had a certain lustrousness, as if tears were in their limpid depths.
"I wish you wouldn't interrupt, Louis Mason! I am trying to explain. Grandfather Floyd isn't our very own grandfather—he married grandmother—and he believes we shouldn't really have separated from England, or at least we should have modeled our government upon hers and had a king. He thought Washington ought to have stood up for some grandeur and state, and he is afraid now we shall all go to ruin. He never did like President Jefferson. But you are too little to understand politics, Annis, and I was going to explain—father and Aunt Catharine are own brother and sister; then there are five Floyd children, uncle and aunt's too. You really are not related to them. You are on our mother's side."
"Jaqueline, you will be qualified to write the genealogy of Virginia," and Louis laughed mockingly.