The interest of this episode served to restore somewhat Selma's serenity, but she kept her attention fixed on the table where the Williamses were sitting, observing with a sense of injury their gay behavior. To all appearances, Flossy was as light-hearted and volatile as ever. Her attire was in the height of fashion. Had adversity taught her nothing? Had the buffet of Providence failed utterly to sober her frivolous spirit? It seemed to Selma that there could be no other conclusion, and though she and Lyons had finished dinner, she was unable to take her eyes off the culprits, or to cease to wonder how it was possible for people with nothing to continue to live as though they had everything. Her moral nature was stirred to resentment, and she sat spell-bound, seeking in vain for a point of consolation.
Meantime Lyons, like a good American, had sent for an evening paper, and was deep in its perusal. A startled ejaculation from him aroused Selma from her nightmare. Her husband was saying to her across the table:
"My dear, Senator Calkins is dead." He spoke in a solemn, excited whisper.
"Our Senator Calkins?"
"Yes. This is the despatch from Washington: 'United States Senator Calkins dropped dead suddenly in the lobby of the Senate chamber, at ten o'clock this morning, while talking with friends. His age was 52. The cause of his death was heart-failure. His decease has cast a gloom over the Capital, and the Senate adjourned promptly out of respect to the memory of the departed statesman.'"
"What a dreadful thing!" Selma murmured.
"The ways of Providence are inscrutable," said Lyons. "No one could have foreseen this public calamity." He poured out a glass of ice-water and drank it feverishly.
"It's fortunate we have everything arranged to return to-morrow, for of course you will be needed at home."
"Yes. Waiter, bring me a telegram."
"What are you going to do?"