"Ah, yes; I forgot. That book of essays you wrote got several sound
drubbings. Nevertheless," continued Jack, "what you offer is in the
main true. Time alone is the true critic. Let him put his mark of
approval on your work, and not all the critical words can bury it or
hinder its light. But Time does not pass his opinion till long after
one is dead. The first waltz, dearest, if you think you can stand it.
You mustn't get tired, little mother."

"I am wonderfully strong to-night," said the little mother. "How
beautifully it is arranged!"

"What?" we men asked, looking over the rooms.

"The figures on Mrs. Secretary-of-State's gown. The lace is
beautiful. Your brother. Nan, has very good taste for a man. That
cloak of yours is by far the handsomest thing I have seen to-night;
and that bit of scarf he sent me isn't to be matched."

"Poor boy!" sighed Nancy. "I wonder if he'll be lonely. It's a shame
to leave him home the very first night."

"Why didn't he come, then?" Mrs. W. shrugged her polished shoulders.

"Oh, my cigars and Scotch are fairly comforting," put in Jack,
complacently. "Besides, Jane Isn't at all bad looking,"--winking at
me. "What do you say, Charlie?"

But Charlie had no time to answer. The gray-haired, gray-whiskered
ambassador was bowing pleasantly to us. A dozen notable military and
naval attaches nodded; and we passed on to the ball-room, where the