"My secretary? Harry Merry," said Quincy, "but the press boys all
call him Sober Harry."
"I think he's just splendid," said the impulsive Maude--"such
beautiful eyes! But that isn't what I came for. I went up to your
house and just brought Alice down to ours, and she told me all about
the fine time you had and your speech. Will it be printed?"
"Mr. Sylvester Chisholm, editor of the Fernborough Gazette was there
and a faithful transcript of my feeble remarks will, no doubt, appear
in his paper."
"Feeble!" said Maude contemptuously. "Have you been doing feeble
things since you came back?"
"No, Maude, I have done some very strenuous things, and I shall be
glad to get home to my family."
Maude repeated, seriously,
"To make a happy fireside clime
For weans and wife
Is the true pathos, and sublime,
Of human life.
"But you are not going home," she continued,--"you are invited to
dinner with your respected pa and ma and your two young--"
"And beautiful sisters," added Quincy with a laugh. "I'll come, but
you must play the latest popular songs for me, and Alice will sing
'Sweet, Sweet Home,' and perhaps I can forget the cares of State--
until to-morrow, anyway."
Maude flounced out of the door tossing a kiss from the tips of her
fingers, to the astonishment of Sober Harry who had just entered, and
who wished, from the bottom of his heart, that the flying salutation
had been for him.
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