The Auto Girls At Washington | Page 2

young man, his manner changing. "Washington is like no other city in
the world, I think. I have been here for four years. Before that time I
had lived in Dublin, in Paris, in St. Petersburg."
"Then you are not an American!" exclaimed Bab, regarding the young
man with interest.
"I am a man without a country, Miss Thurston." Bab's visitor laughed
carelessly. "Or, perhaps, I had better say I am a man of several
countries. My father was an Irishman and a soldier of fortune. My
mother was a Russian. Therefore, I am a member of the Russian
legation in Washington in spite of my half-Irish name. Have you ever
been abroad?"
"Oh, no," Bab returned, shaking her head. "For the past two years,
since I have known Ruth Stuart, the 'Automobile Girls' have traveled
about in this country a good deal. But we are only school girls still. We
have never really made our début in society, although we mean to
forget this while we are in Washington, and to see as much of the world
as we can. I do wish I knew something about politics. It would make
our visit in Washington so much more interesting."
"It is the most interesting game in the world," declared Barbara's
companion, dropping for an instant his expression of indifference. His
blue eyes flashed. Then he said quickly: "Perhaps you will let me teach
you something of the political game at Washington. I am sure you will
be quick to learn and to enjoy it."

"Thank you," Bab answered shyly. "But I am much too stupid ever to
understand."
"I don't quite believe that. You know, you will, of course, hear a great
deal about politics while you are the guests of the Assistant Secretary
of State. Mr. Hamlin is one of the cleverest men in Washington. I am
sure you will be instructing me in diplomacy by the end of a week. But
good-bye; I must not keep you any longer. Will you tell Mr. Hamlin
that I left the bundle of papers he desired on his study table? And
please tell Harriet that I shall hope to be invited very often to see the
'Automobile Girls.'"
The young man looked intently at Barbara, as though trying to read her
very thoughts while she returned his scrutiny with steady eyes. Then
with a courteous bow, he left the room.
When Barbara found herself alone she returned to the window.
"I do wish the girls would come," she murmured to herself. "I am just
dying to know what Mollie and Grace think of their first reception in
Washington. Of course, Ruth has visited Harriet before, so the
experience is not new to her. I am sorry I did not go with the girls, in
spite of my headache. I wonder if some one is coming in here again! I
seem to be giving a reception here myself."
By this time the room was lighted, and Barbara saw a young woman of
about twenty-five years of age walk into the drawing-room and drop
into a big arm chair with a little tired sigh.
"You are Miss Thurston, aren't you?" she asked briskly as Bab came
forward to speak to her, wondering how on earth this newcomer knew
her name and what could be the reason for this unexpected call.
"Yes," Barbara returned in a puzzled tone, "I am Miss Thurston."
"Oh, don't be surprised at my knowing your name," Bab's latest caller
went on. "It is my business to know everybody. I met Mr. Dillon on the
corner. He told me Harriet Hamlin was not at home and that I had

better not come here this afternoon. I did not believe him; still I am not
sorry Miss Hamlin is out, I would ever so much rather see you. Harriet
Hamlin is dreadfully proud, and she is not a bit sympathetic. Do you
think so?"
Bab was lost in wonder. What on earth could this talkative young
woman wish of her? Did her visitor believe Bab would confide her
opinion of Harriet to a complete stranger? But the young woman did
not wait for an answer.
"I want to see you about something awfully important," she went on.
"Please promise me you will do what I ask you before I tell you what it
is."
Bab laughed. "Don't ask me that. Why you may be an anarchist, for all
I know."
The new girl shook her head, smiling. She looked less tired now. She
was pretty and fragile, with fair hair and blue eyes. She was very pale
and was rather shabbily and carelessly dressed.
"No; I am not an anarchist," she said slowly. "I am a newspaper woman,
which is almost as bad in some people's eyes, I suppose, considering
the way