She led the way into the narrow hall.
"Mother!" she addressed a sweetly smiling middle-aged woman who now stood at her side, "I have the honor of presenting to you, Captain Meagher, of the staff of General Washington, my partner of last evening." And she betrayed a sense of pride in that bit of history.
Stephen took the matron's hand, for among the Americans the custom prevailed of shaking hands, albeit the French visitors of the time maintained that it was a "comic custom." Stephen thought it democratic, and in keeping with the spirit of the country.
The parlor opened immediately to the right and thither Stephen was conducted without further ceremony. Mr. Allison would be in shortly; he was as yet busied with the trade at the shop. The old clock at the corner of the room, with its quaint figure of Time adorning the top, and its slowly moving pendulum, proclaimed the hour of five, the hour when the duties of the day came to a close and social life began. The old fireplace, black in this season of desuetude, but brilliant in its huge brass andirons like two pilasters of gold, caught the eye at the extreme end of the room, while in the corner near the window a round mahogany tea-table, stood upright like an expanded fan or palm leaf.
Stephen seated himself in a great chair that lay to one side of the room.
"I had the good fortune of being your daughter's partner for the evening, and I am happy to be enabled to pay my respects to you." Stephen addressed Mrs. Allison who was nearer to him on his left.
"Marjorie told me, Captain, of your extreme kindness to her. We appreciate it very much. Did she conduct herself becomingly? She is a stranger to such brilliant affairs."
"Splendidly!" answered Stephen. "And she danced charmingly," and he slyly looked at her as he spoke and thought he detected a faint blush.
"I did not attend on account of its extravagance," remarked Mrs. Allison. "I had duties at home, and Marjorie was well attended."
"Indeed!" pronounced Marjorie.