She had thought the day before, when they were in such gala mood, that the old lover-like intimacy was growing upon them again, and she had told herself that a winter thus together in Washington would once more intertwine their lives into one harmonious and beautiful fabric; that all their dreams would come true. She had carefully scanned all the senators and public men she had seen, intent upon knowing them, at least by sight, and she had resolved, too, that she would study the details of public questions more deeply that she might be of real help to her husband, as he grew in statecraft.
But—she had felt her heart turn cold and dead within her as she recognized, in her curiously intricate train of morbid thought that these very resolves proved the existence of conditions she had refused to acknowledge, and now she sat before the window, her little chin on her hand, looking vacantly out. Over the way a Catholic church, built of stone, held one of its oaken doors ajar. She saw a woman, evidently a poor woman, for she wore a shawl over her head, enter the church. Somehow the sight added to her despondency.
She was roused by a knock on the door. A bell-boy stood there with a tray. She took the cards, and read the names of Joseph Hale, and Freeman H. Pusey. Hale had written his name upon the blank card supplied by the hotel; Pusey’s was a sample of his own job work and proclaimed him as editor and proprietor of the Grand Prairie Citizen, Daily and Weekly. She thrilled a little at the thought that she was in the presence of the reality of a delegation of constituents calling upon their congressman; and then a great flood of homesickness rolled over her, a homesickness that was the more acute because these men were not known to her, and could only suggest home, not realize it for her here so far away from that home.
She told the boy to show the gentlemen to the parlor, and to say that Mr. Garwood would be down presently.
When she awakened her husband, as she thought the importance of the visit justified her in doing, he roused and writhed his big arms over his curly head.
“Who are they?” he yawned.
She read the names.
“Oh, let ’em wait,” he said, then he rolled heavily over, stretched, and went to sleep again. She went down to the parlor herself to meet the two men.
“I’m Mrs. Garwood,” she said, “and I’m glad to see any one from home. Mr. Garwood was detained very late last night by an important committee meeting and is still sleeping. Can you come back later, or will you wait? I do not like to rouse him just now—he is quite worn out,” she added, selecting for them the alternative she preferred. They adopted her selection and said they could come back in the afternoon.
“We can go out and see the town a little,” said Hale. “We’ve never been in Washington before, ma’am. Great place, ain’t it? Do you think we could see the president? I’d like to see how he looks in his place. I helped put him there.”