O scattered leaves of days!
O low-voiced glories that fade and depart!
But changeless and dear through the changing year
Blooms one white rose in my heart.
The last words hung tremulously, tenderly, on the air, and left a spell upon the company that no one seemed anxious to break; then there was long applause and cries of encore; but Ardmore, who knew that his friend had been greatly moved, drew attention away from him to Collins, who had just entered the room.
The correspondent had been called away shortly before from the table, and he wore the serious air of one heavy with news.
“I beg to report that I have just completed a treaty with the journalists assembled in the cellar.”
“I hope, Mr. Collins, that the journalists’ convention below stairs realized that the lobster we sent them for supper was not canned, and that the mushrooms were creamed for their refreshment by Mrs. Atchison’s special command. It is not for us to trifle with the dignity of the press,” said Jerry.
“The reputations of two governors and of two states are in their hands,” said the governor of South Carolina, with feeling. “It would be a distressing end of my public services if the truth of all these matters should be known. The fact that Governor Dangerfield and I had merely withdrawn from public life for a little quiet poker in the country would sound like the grossest immorality to my exacting constituency.”
“Both yourself and Governor Dangerfield will be relieved to know that they have accepted my terms, and all is well,” responded Collins. “They will tell the waiting world that you have both been the guests of Mr. Ardmore, and that the troops assembled on the Raccoon are merely at their usual summer manœuvres. As for Appleweight, it has seemed expedient that he should be dead, and the man who has been called by that name of late is only an impostor seeking a little cheap notoriety. The boys are very sick of the cellar, and they would do even more than this to get away.”