That afternoon Dorothy devoted to practice, giving special attention to the three pieces she was to play at the concert, two of which had been given place on the program. The third was to be held in readiness in case she needed to respond to an encore. Aunt Betty and Alfy listened to her and expressed their approval. They were never limited in their praise of her work, which always seemed to them beyond criticism.

“Good-bye, for a while,” called Dorothy, at the end of a stanza. “I will only be gone a few minutes, I hope. Mr. Ludlow, in my letter of instructions, told me to come to him at four o’clock. I have to play over my selections to him so he can criticize them.”

Dorothy walked slowly down the hall and knocked on the sitting room door. In a moment, to her surprise, Mr. Dauntrey opened it.

“Good afternoon,” said he. “Now, I shall have the pleasure of listening to you play, I hope.”

“Mr. Ludlow said that I was to come here at four o’clock. I think he wants me to play my selections over for him,” answered Dorothy.

“Yes, you are right,” said Mr. Ludlow, from his large easy rocking chair by the open window, which overlooked a court. “Yes. Stand over there and start in at once.”

Dorothy, thus enjoined, took up her violin and began playing. She finished her first piece without any interruptions on the part of Mr. Ludlow. She was about to start the second piece when he called to her to stop.

“Play the introduction to that piece again and a little louder, also a little firmer,” he ordered.

She did as she was told.

“That’s a little better,” he said, when she had finished. “But I should play the introduction still louder, so as to make a marked contrast when the melody proper starts in, by playing that very softly, like someone singing way off in the distance. And one more thing; in the last part, when you have that staccato melody, play that sharper. Now, try the piece all over again.”

Dorothy answered, “Yes,” and then played again, trying to do just as Mr. Ludlow asked her to, and when she finished she stood still, saying nothing, just waiting to hear what Mr. Ludlow would say. If she expected a word of praise she was to be disappointed.

“Very well, try the next one,” was all Mr. Ludlow said.

So the girl once more took up her violin, and filled the room with melody. This time she played her piece, so she thought, very poorly, in part, because of Mr. Dauntrey. She seemed to feel his eyes on her, and it made her nervous.

“Very well,” said Mr. Ludlow, much to her surprise. “That will be all for this afternoon. And, Miss Dorothy, try not to get nervous or excited to-night. I expect you to do your very best.”

“I will try,” smiled back Dorothy. “Good afternoon.”

Just as she reached the door, she saw Ruth, who stepped back into the shadow of the hall.

Ruth questioned, “Is he cross? And is Mr. Dauntrey there?”

“Mr. Ludlow isn’t cross, but he’s very business-like. And Mr. Dauntrey is in there, and I wish he hadn’t been,” answered Dorothy.

“Oh, dear,” exclaimed Ruth, “I just know he will be so cross with me, for if Mr. Dauntrey is in there I just can’t sing. He thinks I am a wonderful singer, and I know that I’m not. Still, I hate to have him think that I can’t sing at all.”

“You will do all right, dear,” comforted Dorothy. “Just think you are alone, and forget everything and everybody.”

“Very well,” answered Ruth, “and good-bye. I must go in and bear it,” saying which she walked up to the door and knocked.

Dorothy walked down the hall toward her own rooms, then she turned, took the elevator downstairs, and bought a postal, one showing a picture of the capitol. This she took to her writing desk, addressed it, and wrote just this, “Arrived safe. Visited the capitol this morning. Will write later. With love, Dorothy.”

She placed a stamp on it and mailed it, then hurried upstairs to her room again.

“I am rather tired,” she said to her aunt and Alfy, who were reading, “I think I shall rest a few minutes before I dress for dinner. We need to have dinner real early to-night, as we are expected to be at the National Theater at 7.30 p. m. Mr. Ludlow is to give us each a program, then, and tell us of any last orders he may have for us.”

“Shall I get your things all out and have everything all ready for you?” inquired Alfy.

“Yes, please.”

“What dress do you want to wear?” asked Alfy.

“I think you had better wear the pink one, dear,” suggested Mrs. Calvert.

“Very well, the pink one, Alfy,” called Dorothy.

“I will have all the things you need ready; shoes – I mean slippers, stockings, handkerchiefs, and gloves,” called back Alfy, as by this time Dorothy had reached her room, and was preparing for her rest.

Both Mrs. Calvert and Alfaretta continued to read for quite some time, and finally when she thought it was time for Alfy to get dressed, Aunt Betty said:

“Alfy, I think you had better start to get dressed, now, and as you are to lay out Dorothy’s things for her, I do not think you will have any too much time.”

“Surely, Aunt Betty, I will begin at once. I was so interested in my book that I forgot my duties,” answered Alfy, and she started into the next room and commenced getting Dorothy’s things ready first.

When she had finished this task, she walked back into the sitting room again and inquired, “Aunt Betty, I have finished getting Dorothy’s things ready. Will you please now tell me what you would like to have me wear?”

“I think you might wear your little white dress, with the pretty blue sash and ribbon of the same color, for your hair,” answered Mrs. Calvert. “And you might wear white shoes and stockings. We are merely going to be part of the audience, to-night, so I hardly think we need dress very much.”

“All right,” answered Alfy, cheerily, and started away again, humming a little tune under her breath. She was pleased to think she could wear her new white dress, with the pretty blue sash. And she thought she would ask Dorothy to tie the blue ribbon around her hair, as Dorothy always did such things so much daintier than she did. Still singing, she started to dress in earnest.

It wasn’t long before Dorothy awoke from her nap, and soon the two girls were dressed and ready to help each other with the finishing touches. Together they made short and quick work of this.

Mrs. Calvert looked up as they entered the room, and said, “Come here, and kiss me, dears. You both look very sweet; very pretty, indeed.”

“Do you and Alfy want to be audience again, while I play over my pieces once more?” asked Dorothy. “I’m sure Mr. Ludlow didn’t quite like the way I played one of them this afternoon.”

“Of course we do,” answered Aunt Betty. “We will each sit down and listen very attentively.”

“I will play first the last piece on the program,” announced Dorothy.

“Very well,” said Mrs. Calvert, smiling encouragingly at the girl.

Dorothy gave careful attention to her work, and played one after the other of the three selections through, pausing long enough between each piece so that they might know she was about to begin the next. The one Mr. Ludlow had taken exception to and criticised, that afternoon, she played last, paying strict attention to the parts he had indicated as needing correction.

When she had finished, she laid down her violin, and came and stood in front of her aunt, questioning:

“Do you think I played them well enough? Did I do better than I did this afternoon before I went in to see Mr. Ludlow, and did you notice the difference in the playing of the last piece?”

“My, what a lot of questions,” said Aunt Betty, laughing. “Now, to answer them all: Yes, I do think you played much better just now than you did before. And I think Mr. Ludlow’s corrections in that last piece improve it greatly. You see, he considers your work from the viewpoint of the audience.”

“I am glad you like the correction. I think it is better by far, myself. But I just wanted to get your opinion on it before I was quite satisfied,” replied Dorothy. “I guess, to change the subject, that we are all ready for dinner, so let’s go down; maybe some of the others are ready also.”

They found that all of the party were already at dinner, so they joined them in a quiet meal. Each seemed imbued with the responsibility that rested on their shoulders.

Dorothy, leaving her aunt and Alfaretta to follow her to the theater, started early with Ruth and Mr. Ludlow.

On the way to the theater, Mr. Ludlow said, “Just one final word of instruction: Stand either a little to the right or a little to the left of the centre of the stage; never just in the centre. It looks better from the house side. And try not to get nervous. Mr. Dauntrey will give you each a program. And now, I think you are all right.”

Mr. Dauntrey, joining them on their arrival, gave each a program. Dorothy noted that she was to be the third, and was quite pleased to find that she came in the first half of the program. She always liked to play and then go out and sit with her aunt and listen to the remainder of the recital. The programs were beautifully printed in gold and color, on a heavy white paper, on the cover of which was an eagle. The sheets were tied together with a red, white and blue ribbon. The contents read as follows:

“Are you going out in front to sit with your aunt and Alfaretta, after you have finished?” inquired Ruth, who was standing beside Dorothy.

“Yes, do you want to come out with me?” Dorothy asked.

“Yes. If I may,” answered Ruth. “Will you wait here in the wings till I have finished singing, and then we can go out together. I come right after you on the program.”

“I am anxious to see Miss Winter’s dance,” said Dorothy.

“And so am I, and to hear that trio sing,” answered Ruth.

“Do you want to see the stage?” called Mr. Dauntrey. “Come now, if you do. Mr. Ludlow wants you all to go and try it out; that is, I mean, practice making an entrance.”

The girls walked over in the direction in which Mr. Dauntrey led.

“Oh!” exclaimed Ruth, when the vista of the stage came into view. “Isn’t it pretty!”

“It is, indeed,” acquiesced Dorothy.

The stage was a spacious one. To the right was placed the grand piano, around which palms were artistically arranged. In the centre, and way to the rear, as a background, hung a large American flag. On each side of the flag ran a regular column of palms. Little plants and flowers were on the stage in such profusion as to transform it into a veritable fairyland.

“Wasn’t that a nice idea to put the flag back there?” said Ruth.

“I think the stage decorations are very artistic, and I am sure with such surroundings, everyone should do their very best,” said Mr. Dauntrey.

Just then they looked at the clock in the wings and saw that it was 8.15 p. m., the time announced to commence. They all walked off the stage and back into the wings.

As the curtain arose, Miss Robbia advanced to do her part.

Just then Dorothy heard Mr. Ludlow say, “I think the President is here.”

“Oh, I hope he does come,” answered Miss Ruth.

But Dorothy, as she went back to await her turn, was not quite so sure. It seemed a serious thing to play before the greatest dignitary in the land.

The first number at last was finished, then the second, then it was Dorothy’s turn. When she was on the stage, she looked out into the audience and there, sure enough, in the large, beautifully decorated box, sat the President and his party.

Surely the presence of such a notable guest should prompt her to do her best. She wondered if the fact of his being there would make her nervous. Then she thought of Jim and of what he would say, and then once launched upon her theme, she forgot everything else. Her whole soul, it seemed to the audience, was engulfed in her art. Never had instrument fashioned by hand been more responsive to human touch.

When she had finished playing, she heard vaguely the applause, and went out again before the curtain to bow her acknowledgment. Then a large bunch of American beauty roses were handed to her. A very pretty picture indeed did she make with the large bouquet of flowers in her arms.

When the first half of the concert was over, Mr. Ludlow came back and said: “The President would like Miss Ruth and Miss Dorothy to come to his box; he would like to congratulate you both.”

“Ah, that is pleasing, indeed,” exclaimed Dorothy.

“Surely we are honored,” added Ruth. They followed Mr. Ludlow out to the President’s box, where he and his family and a few friends sat. When they reached the box, the President rose and said, smilingly:

“I want to congratulate you young people on your success. It has been a great pleasure for me to hear you. Your playing, Miss Calvert, was entrancing.”

All the eyes of the audience were now turned on the presidential box, and there was a craning of necks, trying to see what was going on there.

The incident was soon over, the President had shaken hands with each, and Dorothy at last found time to look at the card attached to her roses. She imagined Aunt Betty had sent them to her. But she was very much surprised and greatly pleased when she saw Jim’s name on them, and wondered how he could have sent them. She hugged them close to her and kissed each pretty rose.

Just then Ruth came up and said, “I am ready now, dear, let’s go out in front. My! What beautiful flowers you have. Who sent them to you?”

“A friend,” answered Dorothy, blushing.

“Wasn’t he thoughtful to remember to telegraph them here for you,” laughed Ruth. “I wish I had a friend to send me beautiful flowers,” she added.

“Who gave you those beautiful violets you are wearing, that just match your eyes?” questioned Dorothy.

“Oh, Mr. Ludlow sent them. He always does, because he knows I love violets, but that’s different from having American beauty roses sent to one,” Ruth replied.

By this time they were around in front and had quietly sat down in the two seats reserved for them beside Aunt Betty and Alfaretta. Miss Winter had come on the stage preparatory to performing her dances.

She was a very pretty little girl, with blonde hair, and had a small, but well formed figure. The stage was cleared and the lights dull. She danced about the stage in such a light, breezy way that it seemed to the audience that she was wafted about by a spring breeze. She danced most artistically, and her rendering of the two dances was so perfect that the audience applauded again and again, though in response, she just made some curtain bows and retired.

The trio, which Ruth so wished to hear, came next. Their rendition was a long and exquisite one, and Ruth now realized why Mr. Ludlow had put them last. She turned to Dorothy and whispered, “Aren’t they wonderful!”

“Yes,” answered Dorothy. “They are the best we have.”

“That’s why,” explained Ruth, “Mr. Ludlow put them last, so they would leave a good impression of the whole concert in the people’s mind. I feel as if I just couldn’t sing at all.”

The concert was now over, and the audience indicated by the volume of applause that rang out that it was a great success. Everyone had done just what they thought was their very best, and many had received beautiful flowers. It wasn’t long before they were all home.

CHAPTER XV.
MT. VERNON

As Mr. Ludlow had planned for them to visit Mount Vernon and the White House the next day it necessitated their packing partly, so as to be ready to take the train for the next city in which they were to give a concert. As the concert had been such a great success here, they were very hopeful regarding the rest of the tour.

The next morning they were all ready in time for the 10 a. m. boat for Mount Vernon. They had agreed the night before to see Mount Vernon first and leave the White House till last, as the majority cared more to see the former.

On their way they passed the City of Alexandria, and were told that here the Union troops began the invasion of Virginia soil, and here fell Elsworth the first notable victim of the war.

The old red brick hotel, where he pulled down the flag of the Confederates was pointed out to the party by the guide. Also the guide pointed out to them Christ Church, which Washington and his family had attended.

Then, a little further on, among some peach orchards, begins the Mount Vernon estate, which in Washington’s time contained about eight thousand acres. The estate is on the right bank of the Potomac, just sixteen miles below Washington.

The land was part of an extensive grant to John Washington, the first of the family who came to America in middle of the seventeenth century. The estate descended to George, when he was barely more than a boy. He continued to develop and beautify the property until the breaking out of the war of 1776. Then the ability he had shown in the Virginia militia called him to the service of the United Colonies. He returned to Mount Vernon at the close of the war, but had to leave it, and take up his duties as first President of the Republic.

He was buried upon his estate and the family declined to accept the subsequent invitation of Congress to transfer the body to the undercroft of the Capitol.

After Mrs. Washington’s death, the property descended finally to John Augustine Washington, who proposed to dispose of it. A Southern lady, Miss Ann Pamela Cunningham, secured the refusal, and after failing to interest Congress in her proposal that the Government should buy and preserve it as a memorial, succeeded in arousing the women of the country. An association of these women, named the “Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association of the Union,” with representatives from every State was incorporated, and in 1858 paid $200,000 for the central portion of the property, some 200 acres, covenanting to hold it in perpetuity. An admission fee of 25 cents charged all visitors goes to the payment of current expenses.

The tomb of Washington is the first object of attention. It stands immediately at the head of the path from the landing. Its position, small dimensions, and plain form of brick, were indicated by Washington in his will.

The front part, closed by plain iron gates, through which anyone may look, contains two plain sarcophagi, each excavated from a single block of marble. The one in the centre of the little enclosure contains the remains of the Father of His Country, within the little mahogany coffin in which they were originally put. At the left is that of Martha Washington. Four times a year these iron gates are opened by the authorities, and wreaths and other floral offerings are deposited therein.

The mansion itself, stands upon considerable eminence, overlooking broad reaches of the historic Potomac. It is built of oak and pictures have made its architectural features familiar everywhere.

When Mount Vernon was acquired by the ladies’ association, it was not only out of repair, but the furniture had been distributed to various heirs, or sold and scattered. An effort was made to preserve as much as possible, and to restore as closely as might be the original homelike appearance of the house. It has been impossible to do this absolutely, and a great many other articles of furniture, adornment and historical interest have been added. In order to do this, the various State branches of the association were invited to undertake to furnish one room each, and many have done so. The names of these States are associated with the apartments they have taken charge of. A considerable quantity of furniture, as well as personal relics of George and Martha Washington, are here, however, especially in the bedrooms where they died.

“Ah,” exclaimed Dorothy as she entered the hall. “Just look at those swords. Did they all belong to Washington?”

“Yes, dear, the one in the middle of the three,” answered Mrs. Calvert, “was the one he wore when he resigned his commission at Annapolis, and when he was inaugurated at New York.”

“And what is this key hanging here for?” asked Alfaretta.

“That key has a most interesting history,” answered Mr. Ludlow. “That is the key to the Bastile, that prison in Paris, which was so justly hated by the people, and which was demolished by the mob. Lafayette sent it to Washington in a letter.”

Next they turned to the east and entered the music room. This room is under the care of the State of Ohio.

“Oh, just see all the things in here!” cried Dorothy. “Look at that dear harpsichord.”

“That harpsichord was given to Nellie Custis by Washington,” answered Aunt Betty.

They next entered the west parlor. Above the mantel piece is carved the coat-of-arms of the family. The carpet here is a rug presented by Louis XVI to Washington. It was woven to order, in dark green with orange stars; its center piece is the seal of the United States, and the border is a floriated design. This room was refurnished by the State of Illinois.

“Look, dear, see the spinet there,” said Mrs. Calvert to Dorothy.

“Yes, and what beautiful candlesticks those are standing there on that queer table,” answered Dorothy.

“What is this next room?” inquired Alfaretta.

“This room,” answered Aunt Betty, “was Mrs. Washington’s sitting room, and was refurnished in the manner of the period by Georgia. But the dining room is what I want you to especially notice. The furniture here was that originally used by Washington – ”

“Next is Washington’s library, for I see books in there,” announced Ruth.

“This is one of the most important rooms in the house,” said Mr. Ludlow, as they entered the banquet hall.

Its length is the whole width of the mansion, and its richly decorated ceiling is full two stories high.

“The ornate fireplace and mantel of Italian marble and workmanship once occupied a place in a country home in England,” said Mrs. Calvert; “someone brought it over the ocean and gave it to Washington, and it is worth examining.”

They now ascended the stairs to the second floor to visit the bedrooms.

“Let’s go first to the bedroom where Washington died,” said Mr. Ludlow. “It is almost exactly as it was when he lived here.”

“There is the large four-poster,” said Dorothy.

“Yes, dear, and these pillows here on the chairs were worked by Martha Washington herself,” added Aunt Betty.

They next went to see the room where Martha Washington died. It is directly above the one occupied by Washington. This is fitted up as nearly as possible as it was when occupied by Martha, but only the corner washstand really belonged to her.

They visited the other bedrooms, noticing the important things of interest in them, and then started back to the city, where they had late luncheon and went out immediately after to visit the White House. They had very little time left and wanted to get just a glimpse of the President’s home.

Everyone is familiar with the appearance of the White House. The grounds consist of some eight acres sloping down to the Potomac. The immediate gardens were early attended to as is shown by the size of the trees.

One park, near the house, known as the white lot, is open to the public, and here, in warm weather, the marine band gives outdoor concerts. Here also is the sloping terrace just behind the White House, that the children of the city gather upon on Easter to roll their colored eggs.

Coming up from Pennsylvania avenue along the semi-circular drive that leads up from the open gates, they entered the stately vestibule through the front portico. The middle upper window from which Lincoln made so many impromptu but memorable addresses during the war was pointed out. The doorkeepers here direct callers upon the President up the broad staircase. They formed the company into one party and conducted them, under their guidance, around the building.

They were taken into the East room, originally designed for a banquet hall, which is used now as a state reception room. It has eight beautiful marble mantels, surmounted by tall mirrors, and large crystal chandeliers from each of the three great panels of the ceiling.

Full length portraits of George and Martha Washington are among the pictures on the wall. Every visitor is told that Mrs. Madison cut the former painting from out the frame with a pair of shears to preserve it from the enemy when she fled from the town in 1814. But in her own letters describing her flight she says that Mr. Custis, the nephew of Washington, hastened over from Arlington to save the precious portrait and that a servant cut the outer frame with an axe so the canvas could be removed, stretched on the inner frame.

Adjoining the East room is the Green room, named so from the general color scheme which has been traditional. The ceiling is ornamented with an exquisite design in which musical instruments are entwined in a garland with cherubs and flowers.

Next to this, and somewhat larger and oval, is the Blue room. The ornaments here are presents from the French. The mantel clock was a present from Napoleon to Lafayette, and was given by the latter to the United States. The fine vases were presented by the president of the French Republic, on the occasion of the opening of the Franco-American cable. It is here the President stands when holding receptions and ceremonials.

The Red room, west of the Blue room, is square and the same size as the Green parlor. It is more homelike than the others because of its piano and mantel ornaments, abundant furniture and pictures. It is used as a reception room and private parlor by the ladies of the mansion.

In the State dining room at the end of the corridor, elaborate dinners are usually given once or twice a week, during the winter, and they are brilliant affairs. Plants and flowers from the conservatories are supplied in limitless quantities and the table is laden with a rare display of plate, porcelain and cut glass. It presents a beautiful appearance and is an effective setting for the elaborate toilets of the ladies and their glittering jewels.

The table service is exceedingly beautiful and is adorned with various representations of the flora and fauna of America. The new set of cut glass, consisting of five hundred and twenty separate pieces, was made especially for the White House, and on each piece, from the mammoth centerpiece and punch bowl to the tiny salt cellars, is engraved the coat-of-arms of the United States. The table can be made to accommodate as many as fifty-four persons, but the usual number of guests is from thirty to forty.

A door leads into the conservatory, which is always a beauty spot. Just opposite the state dining room is the private or family dining room.

The offices of the President and his secretaries are on the second floor at the eastern end. The President’s room and Cabinet room are in the executive office west of the White House, so the guide told them, and a large force of watchmen including police officers are on duty inside the mansion at all hours, and a continuous patrol is maintained by the local police of the grounds immediately surrounding the mansion.

Thinking they had seen as much as they could safely spare time for, they hurried away back to the hotel, where they all hastily packed the rest of their things and sent them at once to the station. They soon started on their considerable journey, and almost nightly concerts till they should reach Chicago.