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Cresswell saw light as she turned to go down the steps. There was but one resource she must keep the matter out of the newspapers, and see Stillings, whom she now remembered well. "I beg pardon, does the Miss Wynn live here who got the prize in the art exhibition?" Mrs. Cresswell turned in amazement. It was evidently a reporter, and the maid was admitting him.
"Well, to be brief, I'm engaged to Mr. Stillings." "What! To that flat-headed " "No," she coolly interrupted, "to the Register of the Treasury." The man was too dumbfounded, too overwhelmed for coherent speech. "But but come; why in God's name will you throw yourself away on on such a you're joking you " She motioned him to a chair. He obeyed like one in a trance. "Now, Tom, be calm.
But Stillings was a patient, resolute man beneath his deferential exterior, and he saw in Bles a stepping stone. So he began to drop in at his lodgings and tonight invited him to the Bethel Literary. "What's that?" asked Bles. "A debating club oldest in the city; the best people all attend." Bles hesitated. He had half made up his mind that this was the proper time to call on Miss Wynn.
He spoke for nearly an hour, and when he stopped, for a moment his hearers sighed and then sprang into a whirlwind of applause. They shouted, clapped, and waved while he sat in blank amazement, and was with difficulty forced to the rostrum to bow again and again. The spectacled white man leaned over to Stillings. "Who is he?" he asked. Stillings told him.
Sam Stillings!" he exclaimed delightedly, and was soon grasping the hand of a slim, well-dressed man of perhaps thirty, with yellow face, curling hair, and shifting eyes. "Well, of all things, Bles er ah Mr. Alwyn! Thought you were hoeing cotton." Bles laughed and continued shaking his head. He was foolishly glad to see the former Cresswell butler, whom he had known but slightly.
When she reached home Stillings was there, and they talked earnestly. The bell rang violently. Teerswell rushed in. "Well, Carrie!" he cried eagerly. "Well, Tom," she responded, giving him a languid hand. Stillings rose and departed. Teerswell nodded and said: "Well, what do you think of last night?" "A great speech, I hear."
"What else?" he asked, pausing with the steaming drink poised aloft. "If I'm not mistaken, Alwyn intends to marry Miss Wynn." "You lie!" the other suddenly yelled with an oath, overturning his tumbler and striding across the floor. "Do you suppose she'd look at that black " "Well, see here," said the astute Stillings, checking the details upon his fingers.
But it was no caller. It was simply some one named Stillings to see Mr. Cresswell. She went down to see him he might be a constituent and found a smirky brown man, very apologetic. "You don't know me does you, Mrs. Cresswell?" said Stillings. He knew when it was diplomatic to forget his grammar and assume his dialect. "Why no." "You remember I worked for Mr.
She was not surprised to learn that the Senate had rejected Alwyn's nomination; that Samuel Stillings had been nominated and confirmed as Register of the Treasury, and that Mr. Tom Teerswell was to be his assistant. Also the bill reorganizing the school board had passed. She wrote two notes and posted them as she went out to walk.
Cresswell stopped, for the colored woman had gone quietly out of the room and in a moment the maid entered and stood ready. Mrs. Cresswell walked slowly to the door and stepped out. Then she turned. "What does Miss Wynn do for a living?" The girl tittered. "She used to teach school but she don't do nothing now. She's just married; her husband is Mr. Stillings, Register of the Treasury." Mrs.
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