for dinner. I'm expecting that handsome brother of yours directly and I must look my best for him, now mustn't I?"

She smiled into his eyes with such charming audacity he had to laugh.

"Of course, you must!" he agreed, and bent quickly to the task of clearing her violet bed of entangled vines. In ten minutes his strong hand had done the work of an hour for her slender fingers.

"How swiftly and beautifully you work, Ned!" she exclaimed as he rose with face flushed and gazed a moment admiringly on the witchery of her exquisite figure.

"How would you like me for a steady gardener ?” "I hope you're not going to lose your job on your brother's paper?"

"It's possible." "Why?"

"We don't agree on politics."

"A reporter don't have to agree with an editor. He only obeys orders."

"That's it," Ned answered, with a firm snap of his strong jaw. "I'm not going to take orders from this Government many more days from the present outlook."

Betty looked him straight in the eye in silence and slowly asked:

"You're not really going to join the rebels?"

The slender boyish figure suddenly straightened and his lips quivered:

"Perhaps."

"You can't mean it!" she cried incredulously. "Would you care?" he asked slowly.

"Very much," was the quick answer. "I should be shocked and disappointed in you. I've never believed for a moment that you meant what you said. I thought you were only debating the question from the Southern side."

"Tell me," Ned broke in, "does your father mean half he says about Lincoln and the South?"

"Every word he says. My father is made of the stuff that kindles martyr fires. He will march to the stake for his principles when the time comes." "You admire that kind of man?"

"Don't you?"

"Yes. And for that reason I can't understand why you admire a trimmer and a time server."

"You mean?"

"The Rail-splitter in the White House."

"But he's not!" Betty protested. "I can feel the • hand of steel beneath his glove-wait and see.”

Ned laughed:

"Let Ephraim alone, he's joined to his idols! As our old preacher used to say in Missouri. Your delusion is hopeless. It's well the President is safely married."

Betty's eyes twinkled. Ned paused, blushed, fumbled in his pocket and drew out the card the President had given him to deliver.

"I am ordered by the administration," he gravely continued, "to serve this document on the daughter of Senator Winter."

Betty's eyes danced with amazement as she read the message in the handwriting of the Chief Magis

trate.

"He sent this to me?"

"Ordered me to serve it on you at once-my excuse for coming at this unseemly hour."

"But why?"

"I gave him a hint of your opinion of his Inaugural. I think it's a case of a drowning man grasping a straw."

"Well, this is splendid!" she exclaimed.

"You take it seriously?"

"It's a great honor."

"And are you going?"

"I'd go to-night if it were possible-to-morrow

She looked at the card curiously.

"I've a strange presentiment that something wonderful will come of this meeting."

"No doubt of it. When Senator Winter's daughter becomes the champion of the 'Slave Hound of Illinois' there'll be a sensation in the Capital gossip to say nothing of what may happen at home."

"I'll risk what happens at home, Ned! My father has two great passions, the hatred of Slavery and the love of his frivolous daughter. I can twist him

She paused, snapped her finger and smiled up into his face sweetly:

"Do you doubt it, sir?”

"No," he answered with a frown, dropping his voice to low tender tones. "But would you mind telling me, Miss Betty, why you called me 'Mr. Ned' the other day when I introduced you to John?"

The faintest tinge of red flashed in her cheeks: "I must have done it unconsciously."