University of Virginia Library

30. CHAPTER XXX.

ONCE more Louise had good news from her Washington—
Senator Dilworthy was going to sell the Tennessee Land
to the government! Louise told Laura in confidence. She
had told her parents, too, and also several bosom friends; but
all of these people had simply looked sad when they heard
the news, except Laura. Laura's face suddenly brightened
under it—only for an instant, it is true, but poor Louise was
grateful for even that fleeting ray of encouragement. When
next Laura was alone, she fell into a train of thought something
like this:

“If the Senator has really taken hold of this matter, I may
look for that invitation to his house at any moment. I am
perishing to go! I do long to know whether I am only simply
a large-sized pigmy among these pigmies here, who tumble
over so easily when one strikes them, or whether I am
really—.” Her thoughts drifted into other channels, for a
season. Then she continued:—“He said I could be useful

in the great cause of philanthropy, and help in the blessed
work of uplifting the poor and the ignorant, if he found it
feasible to take hold of our Land. Well, that is neither here
nor there; what I want, is to go to Washington and find out
what I am. I want money, too; and if one may judge by
what she hears, there are chances there for a—.” For a fascinating
woman, she was going to say, perhaps, but she did
not.

Along in the fall the invitation came, sure enough. It
came officially through brother Washington, the private Secretary,
who appended a postscript that was brimming with
delight over the prospect of seeing the Duchess again. He
said it would be happiness enough to look upon her face once
more—it would be almost too much happiness when to it was
added the fact that she would bring messages with her that
were fresh from Louise's lips.

In Washington's letter were several important enclosures.
For instance, there was the Senator's check for $2,000—“to
buy suitable clothing in New York with!” It was a loan to
be refunded when the Land was sold. Two thousand—this
was fine indeed. Louise's father was called rich, but Laura
doubted if Louise had ever had $400 worth of new clothing
at one time in her life. With the check came two through
tickets—good on the railroad from Hawkeye to Washington via
New York—and they were “dead-head” tickets, too, which
had been given to Senator Dilworthy by the railway companies.
Senators and representatives were paid thousands of
dollars by the government for traveling expenses, but they
always traveled “dead-head” both ways, and then did as any
honorable, high-minded men would naturally do—declined to
receive the mileage tendered them by the government. The
Senator had plenty of railway passes, and could easily spare
two to Laura—one for herself and one for a male escort.
Washington suggested that she get some old friend of the
family to come with her, and said the Senator would “dead-head”
him home again as soon as he had grown tired of the

sights of the capital. Laura thought the thing over. At first
she was pleased with the idea, but presently she began to feel
differently about it. Finally she said, “No, our staid, steady-going
Hawkeye friends' notions and mine differ about some
things—they respect me, now, and I respect them—better
leave it so—I will go alone; I am not afraid to travel by
myself.” And so communing with herself, she left the house
for an afternoon walk.

Almost at the door she met Col. Sellers. She told him
about her invitation to Washington.

“Bless me!” said the Colonel. “I have about made up
my mind to go there myself. You see we've got to get
another appropriation through, and the Company want me to
come east and put it through Congress. Harry's there, and
he'll do what he can, of course; and Harry's a good fellow
and always does the very best he knows how, but then he's
young—rather young for some parts of such work, you know
—and besides he talks too much, talks a good deal too much;
and sometimes he appears to be a little bit visionary, too, I
think—the worst thing in the world for a business man.
A man like that always exposes his cards, sooner or later.
This sort of thing wants an old, quiet, steady hand—wants an
old cool head, you know, that knows men, through and
through, and is used to large operations. I'm expecting my
salary, and also some dividends from the company, and if
they get along in time, I'll go along with you Laura—take
you under my wing—you mustn't travel alone. Lord I wish
I had the money right now.—But there'll be plenty soon—
plenty.”

Laura reasoned with herself that if the kindly, simple-hearted
Colonel was going anyhow, what could she gain by
traveling alone and throwing away his company? So she
told him she accepted his offer gladly, gratefully. She said
it would be the greatest of favors if he would go with her
and protect her—not at his own expense as far as railway
fares were concerned, of course; she could not expect him to

put himself to so much trouble for her and pay his fare
besides. But he wouldn't hear of her paying his fare—it
would be only a pleasure to him to serve her. Laura insisted
on furnishing the tickets; and finally, when argument failed,
she said the tickets cost neither her nor any one else a cent—
she had two of them—she needed but one—and if he would
not take the other she would not go with him. That settled
the matter. He took the ticket. Laura was glad that she
had the check for new clothing, for she felt very certain of
being able to get the Colonel to borrow a little of the money
to pay hotel bills with, here and there.

She wrote Washington to look for her and Col. Sellers
toward the end of November; and at about the time set the
two travelers arrived safe in the capital of the nation, sure
enough.