One day especially, when he rode into the city a little later than usual, he found his uncle at his room waiting for him.
“Where the deuce is it, Alick, that you gallop off to every morning of your life?” inquired the old gentleman, who had somehow or other got a hint that his nephew rode into Washington every morning, but had no suspicion that he slept out of the city every night. “Where the deuce is it that you go?” he repeated.
Alick, taken by surprise, hesitated before he could summon the presence of his mind, and reply:
“Oh, I make a practice of taking a gallop through the morning air for my health.”
“Umph, umph, umph!” growled the old gentleman. “You look more like you made a practice of sitting over your wine until four or five, or six o’clock in the morning, for your illness.”
Alick laughed rather lugubriously, it must be confessed, for he saw that the old gentleman’s suspicions were aroused, although, of course, they must have been of the vaguest character.
“Well,” said the general, “you have got a busy day before you, Alick, and no time to lose. First, you have to escort Anna to St. John’s Church, to be present at the wedding of Senor Don Emillio Arayo, the son of the Brazilian Minister, with Mademoiselle Marie de Courcey, niece of the French Ambassador. All the world is going, and Anna is going with them, of course.”
“Satan fly away with the Spanish puppy and the French ninny!” was Alick’s secret thought. But he bowed, and said:
“Sir, I shall be most happy.”
“And then you are engaged to dine at Major General Scott’s. And after that to go and take Anna, to see the great new tragedienne, Mrs. Starrs, in Lady Macbeth; after which you sup with me and Anna.”