"And who succeeds Hamilton, sir?"
"Oh, his satellite, Wolcott. The ex-Secretary means to pull the wires of his puppets. He loves power, as I do not. But the chocolate, alas!"
"And who, may I ask," said Mrs. Swanwick, "is to follow thee, Friend Jefferson?"
"Edmund Randolph, I believe. Bradford will have his place of Attorney-General. And now you have all my gossip, Madame, and I leave next week. I owe you many thanks for the pleasant hours in your home. Good-by, Mr. Schmidt; and Vicomte, may I ask to be remembered to your mother? I shall hope to be here now and then."
"We shall miss thee, Friend Jefferson," said the widow.
"I would not lessen thy regrets," he said. "Ah, one lingers." He kissed the hand he held, his bright hazel eyes aglow. "Good-by, Miss Margaret." And bowing low, he left them.
Schmidt looked after him, smiling.
"Now thou art of a mind to say naughty things of my friend," said Mrs. Swanwick. "I know thy ways."
"I was, but I meant only to criticize his politics. An intelligent old fox with golden eyes. He is of no mind to accept any share of the trouble this English treaty will make, and this excise tax."