“Do you refer to the Diplomatic Corps?” asked Douglas, breaking off a low-toned conversation with Eleanor.
“Not entirely. When I speak of the ‘foreign element,’ I also mean the ‘climbers.’”
“We Georgetown people call them the ‘pushers,’” announced Mrs. Truxton, helping herself to the ice cream which Nicodemus was passing.
“And yet,” continued Thornton, “I dare say there were just as amusing characters in Washington fifty years ago as now.”
“How about the woman of whom I have heard,” asked Eleanor, “who carried off the silver meat skewer at the French Legation, as it was then, as a souvenir, and afterwards proudly used it as a hatpin?”
“Human nature is very much the same from one generation to another,” acknowledged Mrs. Truxton. “But the types are different. I recollect my grandmother’s telling me that she attended services one Sunday at St. John’s Episcopal Church on Lafayette Square when the rector preached a fiery sermon against the sin of dueling. Mrs. Alexander Hamilton and her daughter sat in the pew just in front of my grandmother, and she said Miss Hamilton bore the tirade for some minutes, then rose, turned to her mother, and remarked in an audible tone: ‘Come, Ma; we’ll go. This is no place for us.’”
“Come, you needn’t put it all on Washington,” exclaimed Douglas. “Georgetown has famous blunderers and eccentric characters as well.”
“And ghosts,” added Mrs. Truxton. “Do not deprive Georgetown of its chief attraction. Ghosts and Past Glory walk hand and hand through these old streets.”
“Ghosts,” echoed Douglas, turning to his host. “Unless my memory is playing me false, this house used to be thought haunted. It seems to me I’ve heard tales of secret passages and mysterious noises.”