“He’s not a black coat.” The lady spoke with feeling. Her face cleared and she added sweetly, “He must be a Unitarian.” Then she laughed, all shadows and restraint gone. “Forgive an old windbag, guilty of the very faults she criticizes in others.” She lifted her eyes. “See how the sun shines on our Capitol. Have you ever seen anything half so beautiful?”
Amelia shook her head.
“I’ve never traveled any place before, ma’am. Washington is more than I can believe.”
“It’s too good for the people who live here. But come and rest yourself. I am a bad hostess.” Her eyes twinkled as she turned to Jack. “First, does she know I’m a criminal—a convicted criminal?” She made it sound very mysterious, and Amelia stared.
Jack laughed. “You tell her, Mrs. Royall!”
“’Tis very sad.” There was mockery in her voice. “A ‘common scold’—that was the finding of the jury. In England they would have ducked me in a pond; but here there was only the Potomac, and the honored judge deemed that might not be right—the waters would be contaminated. So they let me go.” They were in the house now and she was setting out china cups. “You know,” she frowned slightly, “the thing I really objected to was the word ‘common.’ That I did not like.”
“I agree with you, madam. Mrs. Royall’s scoldings of senators, congressmen and even presidents, of bankers and bishops, have always been in a class by themselves. ‘Common’ was not the word.” And again he bowed.
The old lady eyed him with approval.
“Where, might I ask, did you get your good manners? They are rare enough in Washington these days.” Before he could reply she had turned to Amelia—the gracious host to her guest. “Some day, my dear, I shall tell you of the Marquis de la Fayette. Ah! there were manners!”
“Liberté, fraternité, égalité!” Jack murmured the words half under his breath, but the old lady turned on him, her eyes flashing. Then, like an imp, she grinned.