The Auto Girls At Washington | Page 7

Capital City. Grace Carter was listening to Barbara's and
Ruth's animated conversation.
From the very first days at Newport, Mollie Thurston had cared more
for society than had her sister and two friends. Her dainty beauty and
pretty manners made her a favorite wherever she went. Mollie's friends
had spoiled her, and since her arrival in Washington the old story had
repeated itself. Harriet Hamlin had already taken Mollie under her
special protection. And Mollie was wildly excited with the thought of
the social experiences ahead of her.
The four girls spent some time strolling about the White House grounds.
Then Ruth proposed that they take a car and visit the Congressional
Library.
"I think it is the most beautiful building in Washington, and, in fact,
one of the finest in the world," she said enthusiastically, and later when
the "Automobile Girls" were fairly inside the famous library, they fully
agreed with her. It was particularly hard to tear Barbara away from
what seemed to her the most fascinating place she was ever in, and she
announced her intention of visiting it again at the first opportunity.
The sightseers arrived home in time for luncheon and at four o'clock
that afternoon they stood in a row, beside Harriet Hamlin and her father,
helping to receive the guests who crowded in to the reception. Some of
the women wore beautiful gowns, others looked as though they had
come from small towns where the residents knew nothing of
fashionable society.
Mollie and Bab wore the white chiffon frocks Mr. Prescott had

presented them with in Chicago. But Grace and Ruth wore gowns that
had been ordered for this particular occasion. Bab thought their white
frocks, which looked as though they were new, as pretty as any of the
gowns worn there. But little Mollie was not satisfied. She hated old
clothes, no matter how well they looked. And Harriet Hamlin was
rarely beautiful in an imported gown of pale, yellow crêpe.
After receiving for an hour, Bab slipped quietly into a chair near a
window. She wished to examine the guests at her leisure. Mollie and
Ruth were deep in conversation with Mrs. Post and Hugh. Grace was
talking to Dorothy and Gwendolin Morton.
Barbara's eyes wandered eagerly over the throng of people. Suddenly
some one touched her on the shoulder.
"You do not remember me, do you?"
Bab turned and saw a young woman.
"I am Marjorie Moore," said the newcomer. "I am the girl who came to
ask you for your pictures. Perhaps you think it is strange for me to
come to Harriet Hamlin's reception when she was so rude to me last
night. But I am not a guest. Besides, newspaper people are not expected
to have any feelings. My newspaper sent me to find out what people
were here this afternoon. So here I am! I know everybody in
Washington. Would you like me to point out some of the celebrities to
you? See that stunning woman just coming in at the door? She has the
reputation of being the most popular woman in Washington. But
nobody knows just where she comes from, or who she is, or how she
gets her money. But I must not talk Washington gossip. You'll meet her
soon yourself."
"How do you do, Miss Moore?" broke in a charming contralto voice.
"You are the very person I wish to see. I can give you some news for
your paper. It is not very important, but I thought you might like to
have it."
"You are awfully good, Mrs. Wilson," Marjorie Moore replied

gratefully. "I have just been talking to Miss Thurston about you. May I
introduce her? She has just arrived in Washington, and I told her, only
half a second ago, that you were the nicest woman in this town."
Mrs. Wilson laughed quietly. "I know Miss Thurston's sister and her
friend, Miss Carter. Mr. Hamlin let me help chaperon them at a
reception yesterday afternoon. But Miss Moore has been flattering me
dreadfully. I am a very unimportant person, though I happen to have
the good fortune to be a friend of Mr. Hamlin's and Harriet's. I am
keeping house in Washington at present. Some day you must come to
see me."
Bab thanked her new acquaintance. She thought she had never seen a
more unusual looking woman. It was impossible to guess her age. Mrs.
Wilson's hair was snow-white, but her face was as young as a girl's and
her eyes were fascinatingly dark under her narrow penciled brows. She
was gowned in a pale blue broadcloth dress, and wore on her head a
large black hat trimmed with a magnificent black plume.
"The top of the afternoon to you!" declared a new arrival in Bab's
sheltered corner. "How is