“Good!” cried Lettice. “I’d like to tell Brother James that.”
“Your brother James?” Rhoda repeated a little unsteadily. “Has he gone to the war?” She had not made any inquiry about him, and Lettice had wickedly refrained from mentioning him.
“He hasn’t gone, exactly. He belongs to the militia, and so does Brother William, but James says when Cousin Joe comes back he intends to join him, for he prefers service at sea.”
“Your cousin Joe, then, has not come back yet? And his marriage, is it postponed?”
“He has not returned, and the marriage has to be put off indefinitely. Poor dear Patsey! All those pretty gowns waiting for her wedding day, and she does not know when she can wear them! Cousin Joe made one short trip, and then came back to Baltimore. He started out again, but not a word has been heard from him.”
“Poor Patsey!” Rhoda looked very thoughtful for a moment; then she jumped up from the stiff chair in which she was sitting. “I’ll write a note, Lettice,” she said. “I don’t doubt we can go to the ball if you so desire it. I have friends at court, even if my father does not uphold the administration. I can write to Mrs. Paul Hamilton, who knew my mother well, and has been most kind to me.”
“The wife of the Secretary of the Navy?”
“Yes, she has a son in the navy and a daughter here. No fear, Lettice, but that we can go with them, and take Mr. Clinton as our escort.”
Lettice shrugged her shoulders, but made no comment, though when it was known that they were to go to the ball, she was in a twitter of excitement, and declared she meant to captivate the highest dignitary there, if she could.
“That will not be difficult,” Mr. Clinton murmured, for her ear alone. The girl turned, and gave him a little scornful look. Despite the young man’s efforts at being polite and attentive, he had not met with much encouragement, and never was allowed an opportunity for one of those confidential talks he had found so pleasant during the summer.