A fairer sight than Washington in May it would be hard to find. Too many of our great cities are but stupendous aggregations of brick and mortar, of flagstones and concrete, of elevators that climb to dizzy heights, and dark stairways which lead to a teeming under-world. Most of them, if called upon to give their own biographies, could do it as tersely and as truthfully as did Topsy, and in her immortal words,—"I jes growed."
But fortunately the nation's capital was planned, and wisely planned, by a far-seeing brain, which beheld with the eye of faith while yet they were not, broad-shaded avenues flung out across the checkerboard of streets like green-bordered ribbons radiating in all directions from that massive pile which is to all good Americans (in spite of Dr. Holmes and Boston's claims) the true hub of our special universe. It is these transverse avenues which make the special beauty and distinction of the capital city—not in themselves alone, but in the miniature parks and triangular bits of greenery that they leave in their wake.
It was up Massachusetts Avenue, one of the most beautiful of them all, that Mrs. Pennybacker wended her way, consulting from time to time a card she held in her hand. She stopped at last at the door of a gray stone house, shaded by a row of elms. The "parking," as they call it, is rather wide on Massachusetts Avenue, and the lawn was green and well kept. There was an air of quiet elegance about the place that pleased Mrs. Pennybacker. "The exterior is all that can be desired, at any rate," she commented.
She sent up her card and waited in the parlor. The boy returned to say that Mrs. De Jarnette would be down immediately. When he was gone, Mrs. Pennybacker began a close perusal, so to speak, of her surroundings.
"A beautiful room," she announced to herself at length, "a beautiful room. For myself, I don't know that I like this Persian rug as well as I would a good body brussels that covered the whole floor, but that is only my taste. You have to get used to bare spots on a floor before you really appreciate them, I suppose.... Well, if happiness lies in things (and I am not surer of anything in this world than that it doesn't) Margaret will be very happy here. I wish I felt sure of—"
The sentence was unfinished. At this moment a slight lithe figure ran swiftly down the stairs and fell upon her in the most unceremonious manner.
"I am so glad to see you! You are the Mrs. Pennybacker from Missouri who was my mother's old friend, aren't you? I have heard my father speak of you so often."
"You take a different view of it from my niece, Mrs. Van Dorn," said Mrs. Pennybacker, after the greetings were over. "She said it wouldn't do at all for me to come. In fact, I ran off to do it."
"I am so glad you did," laughed Margaret. "I wouldn't have missed your visit for anything. I wish you could have been at my wedding."
"I was. I have made it a point in a long life never to miss anything that I can see legitimately and respectably. My niece secured an invitation for me. I supposed you knew."