“That’s too much. I—I—I can’t stand it. O General! O Papa! I must leave this room. Somebody, somebody better come here,” shrieked the General’s wife as the hostess led the unfortunate lady to the dressing-room, and sent for General Arnold.
CHAPTER II
Bitterness of feeling between the Tories and Whigs was mollified in Philadelphia by the gayety and social qualities of the French Minister.
M. de la Luzerne had rare social tact. He flattered the Tories and dazzled the Whigs by fine dinners and balls to which all factions were invited. The salon of his residence was a favorite meeting-place. Political feuds and family jars were settled by the benign smiles and courtesy of the host and hostess. Times were stirring; the checker-board of war held sway in the drawing-room; the social ills of the body politic were cured by this representative of the French monarch, and the Revolution prospered.
As the guests arrived, the liveried butler announced their names in stentorian tones and Mollie Greydon and her father, Dr. Greydon, entered when the music was starting for the cotillion. Roderick Barclugh met Mollie as she came down the staircase, and announced to her that she was to be his partner since her name by lot fell to him.
“May I have the pleasure of dancing with you this evening, Miss Greydon?” Barclugh asked her.
She had taken a parting glance in the mirror. Her reflected pompadour, ribbons, and the lace handkerchief around her sloping white shoulders satisfied her. Her bodice was square-cut and her head, which was stately, poised on a well-rounded neck, added dignity to her well-formed figure. When she appeared on the staircase and approached Roderick Barclugh with a firm but elastic step she felt perfectly calm and comfortably gowned.
“Certainly, Mr. Barclugh,” replied Mollie when asked to dance the cotillion, “I shall deem it an honor.”