“Fairly pleasant, though the wretched war stirs up all sorts of ill feeling, and one never knows what will happen, or what unpleasant things one may hear; yet I have much less to stand than the President’s wife, and should not complain.”
“The President’s wife, Mrs. Dolly Madison? Is any one so churlish as to show ill-will toward her?”
“Indeed, yes. She is sometimes treated with much discourtesy, because they impute all the woes of the country to her husband.”
“As if she could help that! What gumps some people be! And have you seen Mrs. Madison, Rhoda? Do you know her?”
“I have met her several times, and she is a charming lady.”
“And your beaux, Rhoda? What of them?” The two girls looked at each other, and both blushed faintly; then Lettice, summoning up courage, asked, “Are you promised to Mr. Clinton, Rhoda?”
Rhoda looked down and answered faintly, “Not yet.”
Lettice gave her head a little toss, and a haughty look came into her dark blue eyes. “You mean that you could be if you wanted?”
“My father wishes it very much.” Rhoda’s eyes were still downcast.
“Your father? And how about you and the gentleman himself?”