“On this question,” he said, “the yeas are thirty and the nays are seventeen; and two-thirds of the members-elect having failed to vote in the affirmative, the resolution is lost.”
Vernon stood transfixed. The whole thing was borne in upon him; he saw Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop, and the expression of calm and lofty satisfaction that had settled on her face told him that it was the Ames Amendment that had been lost. But some new thought seemed to strike her, for when Senator Porter looked around with something like a smile of congratulation, she beckoned him, and he hastened to her side.
“Move to reconsider and to lay on the table,” she said, and with a look of admiration he turned and made the motion. It was put, it was carried of course, and the amendment was lost irrevocably.
“Well, that’s attended to,” said Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop. “Ah, Morley,” she said calmly, “you here? And Amelia?”
“She’s here,” he said, “and I—I didn’t get here on time!” The shame and mortification on his face were pitiable, though they could not have touched Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop’s heart.
“And I didn’t get here on time,” he repeated ruefully.
“Why, my dear boy,” said Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop, “I didn’t intend that you should.”
He looked at her fiercely, angrily, a second.
“So that was the game, was it?” he said. He whirled, with another fierce look, on Amelia.
“That was the game, yes, Morley,” said Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop, “but you needn’t look at Amelia so—she was utterly innocent, the dear little thing.”