CHAPTER V.
ROGER CARRINGTON

"Wasn't it queer that Lieutenant Ralston should happen in!" exclaimed Jaqueline at the breakfast table. "We were just going in to supper, and Madam Carrington would have him join us. She is a charming old lady, and Mrs. Carrington, the daughter-in-law, is bright and entertaining. They're some way back connections of our own mother's, of both mothers," with a bright blush, nodding over at Patricia. "And there are two sons, fine young men – one is private secretary to Colonel Monroe. We shall see him to-night. Only what do you think? He advises us to wait until Mrs. Madison is in the White House. And Mr. Ralston said, See her in her own house."

"Jack," said her father, using the detested cognomen, "your tongue is hung in the middle and swings both ways. Jane, Mrs. Carrington sent her regards to you, and would like very much to meet you, since both of her grandsons are acquainted with Arthur. The relationship seems to puzzle most people, and they take you for my daughter. Do I really look old enough for a grandfather?"

Mrs. Jettson laughed at that. It was rather confusing at times.

"And they begged us to come over and make a visit. Both ladies are so fond of girls. Madam Carrington said they tried to keep someone with them all the time. And, Annis, they were so much interested in hearing about you, and wished you had been brought along."

Annis raised her eyes to her mother with a soft reproach in them.

"But I am the oldest," said Varina with jealous dignity.

"When next I go out to supper I shall have to take a caravan," declared Mr. Mason humorously. "Jane, do you think you can manage these girls for a few days and keep them out of the clutches of the young men? You will have your hands full. But I am needed at home, and I feel that we must go. So after breakfast we will gather up the small fry. Charles, have you seen enough of Washington?"

"Not half enough, but I'll come back some time. And I think I'll be a senator."

"What – not President!"

"I should have to be Vice President first," he returned gravely, at which they all laughed.

"I do not see why you should hurry!" exclaimed Jane. "The house is large enough for you all."

"There's a storm brewing, for one thing, and it's a busy season. Then we do not desire to drive you into insanity."

"My brains are on a more solid foundation than that would imply," retorted Jane.

There was quite a confusion when they rose. The squire was always in a hurry when any arrangement was settled upon. And since Jane was like an elder sister to the girls —

"You will have to keep them over to next week," he began. "I shall not be able to get away before – well, the very last. You might let them spend a day or two with the Carringtons."

"Oh, we shall get along all right, never fear!"

"They're only children, you know," and the squire knit his brow over a phase of fatherhood he could not make plain to himself, much less explain to another. "I had an idea Catharine would sober Jaqueline down a little, being a clergyman's wife and all that, but she's just as much of a child as ever."

"Oh, you need not feel worried about Jaqueline. And it will be very nice for them both to see the President and Mr. Jefferson, who is sure to be there. Everybody is rushing to do them honor. I wish you could stay."

"I've seen them both many a time, Jane, and every other President. Your father is right in one thing, Washington was a grand man. There – do not let the girls run wild."

Annis scarcely let her mother out of her sight. Mrs. Jettson kissed her and said she was a nice little thing and must come again. Charles was enthusiastic over his good time, and had much to talk about on the homeward journey.

"You have used your eyes to some purpose," said his mother with smiling commendation.

Mr. Evans thought so, as well. He was very proud of his pupil.

Annis enjoyed the great world out of doors more than she did her lessons. When they were over she and Charles rambled about the beautiful country-sides, gathering armfuls of flowers, listening to the singing birds that filled the woods. The whole plantation was astir with life. Corn and tobacco, wheat and oats, were the great staples, but there was much besides in fruit and vegetables, in flocks and herds. Slaves were busy from morning to night; it seemed as if the place was dotted with them. Randolph Mason was an easy master. Mrs. Mason found the care of so large a household no light thing. It was truly a colony of people depending upon them for advice and training of all sorts, for comfort in sorrow or death, for a willing ear in all troubles.

It was a full fortnight before Mr. Mason could find time to go for his girls. Jaqueline had sipped pleasure continually. The reception had indeed been a crush and an informal affair, a mere calling upon the head of the nation in a congratulatory way. Yet there were beautifully gowned women, and famous men, and Mrs. Madison was cordial and affable. In the dining room the table was replenished continually, and the smiling waiters seemed at everyone's elbow.

After that Mr. Jefferson had gone to his beloved Monticello, although there was no wife to welcome him, and only one daughter now. And the new President was established at the White House. First there was a state dinner to the ministers and the official family, and then a levee.

Jaqueline and Patricia were surprised by a call from Mrs. Carrington, who had driven over with her son to give her invitation in person and take them back with her to Georgetown.

A quaint old house full of nooks and corners, and a garden laid out with curious winding walks, full of old-fashioned flowers and shrubs, some having been brought from the royal gardens of Paris, and one queer space with clipped yews and a great tulip bed, so sheltered from the wind and with such a sunny exposure that it was showing color in the buds already.

Patricia, with her girlish eagerness, went to the heart of Madam at once. She was so frank and chatty, and laughed with such an inspiriting sound, that it gave the quiet house ripples of gayety.

Jaqueline and Mrs. Carrington fraternized in a delightful manner. She was a rather small, fair woman, whose education abroad and whose family had been her chief virtues in the eyes of her mother-in-law, who was a great stickler for birth. She had made a good wife and mother, though it must be confessed that when Madam Carrington lost her son she took complete possession of her grandsons. In spite of strong patriotism Roger had been sent to Oxford for three years, and had taken his degree at law in Baltimore. Ralph was quite a bookworm, but extremely fond of agriculture.

The longing of both women had been for a daughter. Though they seldom compared notes on the subject, Roger's wife was a matter of much speculation to them. Early marriages were the rule rather than the exception; and though they were ready to invite relatives and friends for visits and select admirable girls, Roger was single at twenty-four, an admirer of the sex and quite fond of pleasure, and ever ready to make himself agreeable.

Squire Mason had insisted that his girls were but children, but Jaqueline was assuming the graces of womanhood rapidly. Mrs. Carrington admired her slim, lithe figure, her pretty face with its fine complexion and laughing eyes that often twinkled from an overflow of mirth. There was in the young people of that day a very charming deference to elders, and with all Jaqueline's wildness and love of fun there was the innate touch of good breeding, the debt it was considered one positively owed to society.

Mr. Ralph had gathered quite a menagerie of small pet animals; and, as no one was allowed to disturb the birds, the garden and strip of woods still remaining were filled with their melody. There was a summerhouse that, while it looked light and was overrun with blossoming vines, was secure from rain and had one furnished room which was a great favorite with the young man.

The little eminence gave a fine view of Rock Creek and the wilder country to the northward. When improvements begin, as is often the case, an estate not large enough for a farm becomes unprofitable. The town was growing rapidly; indeed, it had been a refuge when the first Congress met in Washington, as there were so few houses in the Capital. The patrician resort, where men of note had mingled and discussed the interests of the country over their choice Madeira and before the blazing fire of their host, was Suter's tavern, which kept its old reputation, being one of the historic places while history was yet so new. And the Convent of the Visitation was still a favorite with those who did not want to send their daughters away from home, or were of the same faith. Maryland had been settled largely by Roman Catholics, and Virginia was the first State to insist on equal rights for all denominations, while her people were generally stanch Churchmen.

There was a cordial, attractive, and refined element in Georgetown, and much gayety among the young people. It was quite a common thing for foreigners to sneer at the lack of courtly usage in the Colonies, and the want of fine distinctions one found in foreign life, which were the outgrowth of years of training and experience, and where common people were held in awe by the "divinity that doth hedge a king." But the men who had fought side by side, slept on the ground, endured all kinds of hardships for the sake of a free country, were imbued with that sense of equality quite different from the mushroom adjustment of the French Revolution. There was a more generous culture of the soul, and much more intelligence than the period is credited with. When one looks back at the long line of statesmen, all more or less identified with the great struggle and the pioneer mode of life, one finds a galaxy of noble men that few lands can equal, and who built an enduring name for themselves in building their country.

Many of the young people had been educated abroad, but Harvard, King's College, Nassau Hall, and William and Mary were even now taking a high stand in educational matters. And both Boston and Philadelphia had some finishing schools, while the Moravian Seminary was already quite celebrated for the repose and refinement of manner young girls acquired within its nun-like seclusion. But the ideal training of women had not gone far beyond what was considered the strictly feminine boundary: to be graceful and attractive, with a certain freshness of repartee, to dance well, to entertain, and to order a household. For in the higher circles one might have to receive a count or a traveling lord or a French marquis, or be sent abroad as the wife of some minister.

Georgetown had the advantage of more stability than Washington, and had grown up around home centers. Representatives came and went, often not considering it worth while to bring their families. Senators were still largely interested in the welfare of their own States, rather than that of the distant Capital. Thus it came to pass that Georgetown was really attractive and rapidly improving. Streets had a more finished look. Gardens were large and well kept, as there was no need of crowding.

The Carrington young men had seen the progress of advancement and yielded to it with a sense of foresight. The outlying land had been cut up into squares – some places sold, some rented. Roger had many excellent business traits. Enough was left for beauty and a boundary of fine forest trees on two sides, a third a prettily diversified space sloping down to the creek, the other commanding a fine view of the town.

"You ride, of course?" Roger had said the next morning after their arrival.

"What Virginia girl does not?" Jaqueline returned with a gay smile.

"It bids fair to be a pleasant, sunny day, mother. What is that despondent song you sing so much?