‘Senator Monroe’—echoed a flunky down the hall.
‘Coming as soon as I can get my greatcoat off,’ promised the Senator.
But we may be sure that no expression of amusement on the face of the beaming Mrs. Bingham added to his embarrassment.
‘A very pretty dinner, Madame,’ said the intolerable Judge Chase, after looking over the proffered repast, ‘but there is not a thing on your table that I can eat.’
An expression of surprise or resentment on the hostess’s face? Not at all. What would the Judge relish? Roast beef? Very well—and a servant received his orders and soon hurried back with beef and potatoes to be gluttonously devoured and washed down with a couple of bottles of stout ale instead of French wines.
‘There, Madame,’ said the Judge, made comfortable, ‘I have made a sensible and excellent dinner, but no thanks to your French cook.’
And he never knew from the lady’s pleased expression that she thought him an insufferable bore.
Such the woman whose home was to be to the Hamiltonians what Madame Roland’s was to the Girondists, and Lady Holland’s to the English Whigs. Now let us peep into the drawing-room and observe the men and women who bowed to her social scepter.
V
In deference to Mrs. Bingham we shall permit the servant to announce these visitors as they arrive.