Accordingly she, Eleanore, and the baby took a packet to Alexandria and arrived two days later. At the wharf she hired a coachee, and they ferried across the Potomac, then bounced over dusty roads to Aaron's lodgings on Independence Avenue. He was expected from Philadelphia, 'maybe tomorrow or the day after,' the landlady informed them, and in the meantime she had a small apartment to place at Theo's disposal.

So Theo happily established herself in three pleasant rooms on the second floor and prepared to surprise her father. She well knew what delight the unexpected reunion would give him, and arranged the details in a happy bustle of anticipation. She bought an armful of early roses from a flower vendor at the market and scattered them through their rooms. She laid in a stock of Aaron's favorite Cuban cigars and ordered a cask of the Trent wine he preferred to all others.

She regretted that she could not buy herself a new gown ft› the occasion. All her dresses were sadly out of date, and Aaron dearly loved to see her dressed modishly. He took an eager interest in feminine apparel. During her short stay in New York she had noted that tunics had come in, necks were not so low, and bow trimmings had replaced embroidery. Yet she had not had time to have a gown made, and there were no dressmakers in Washington, nor any shops in which to buy fine goods.

In fact, the Federal City had improved little since her visit there for the inauguration. Her lodging windows overlooked the Capitol, and she thought it quite impressive. The President's unfinished 'Palace,' too, gave promise of eventual grandeur, but between these two lay a welter of unpaved, barely discernible streets. They gloried in fine names, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Constitution, but led nowhere except into mud flats or stubbly fields. There were a few partially finished residences, a handful of lodgings and Stelle's Hotel, these latter scandalously expensive. And that was all. All except a city plan so ambitious and ridiculously far-flung as to provoke bitter mirth from the foreign ministers who dwelt irritably and uncomfortably in the inadequate quarters provided by this uncouth village.

Theodosia, however, was indifferent to the town's appearance. Inasmuch as it would soon contain her father, it justified its existence.

She felt well and young for the first time in months.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ON THE morning after her arrival in Washington, Theo awoke at five o'clock. There was freshness in the June air, and sparkle. She jumped from bed, ran to the cradle in the next room, and kissed the sleeping baby.

Eleanore poked up a frowzy head from the near-by bed. 'Madame rises herself so early?' she cried, astonished.

'Yes, Eleanore. It's such a glorious day. Come get me dressed. I'm going out for a walk.'