Marjorie slowly followed the non-commissioned officer down the aisle to the front row, speaking to her different friends as she passed them. As she made herself comfortable in the narrow chair, she recognized Baron von Valkenberg and the military attaches of the foreign embassies at Washington, always interested spectators at the drills, sitting near her. To her left was the box reserved for the President and the Commandant of the Post, draped with the President’s personal flag and the Stars and Stripes, while the Chief of Staff and his aides occupied an adjoining box.
Duncan saw Janet and Barnard sitting midway in the front row of the gallery, and with many apologies to the occupants of the chairs whose feet he encountered on his way to them, he reached Barnard’s side, and in a few words explained the situation, then, not waiting for comment, turned and ran downstairs, reaching Marjorie’s side just as the opening bars of the National Anthem echoed through the hall, and the entire audience rose as the President stepped into his box.
“Oh, isn’t it grand!” shouted Janet to Barnard, clapping her hands as a troop of cavalry rode on to the tanbark, and with a ringing cheer, swept at a run down the hall straight to the President’s box, their chargers’ noses stopping just short of the high railing, and their sabers flashing in salute; then the drill was on.
So absorbed was Janet in the different events scheduled that her companion received but scant attention.
“I declare, our soldiers are magnificent!” Janet drew a long breath, and regretfully watched the company of picked roughriders leave the hall.
“You little enthusiast!” Barnard’s handsome eyes glowed with some warmer sentiment than mere approval as he studied her piquant face. “Jove! It’s a liberal education to know you.”
“Now you are making fun of me,” she said reproachfully, her foot beating time to the stirring tune the post band was playing across the hall.
“I never was more in earnest.” The two heads were bent very close together, and the tender timbre of his voice made her heart beat quicker. “You have no idea, little girl, of the influence you unconsciously exert on those about you. Please God, I’m a better, cleaner man for having known you; only having known you——” his whisper reached her ear alone—“life will never be the same unless you are with me—always!” She stirred uneasily, frightened by the vehemence of his manner. “Surely you guessed,” he whispered, bending down so that she looked directly at him. His nearness, his comeliness, held her.
“I—I—don’t know!” she slid one trembling hand in his. “I know you better than any other man. I think of you—often.”
His face lightened with hope. “I’ll make you love me,” and pretending to pick up the program, he stooped and pressed his lips to her hand.