A CHANCE MEETING

Barbara Thurston stood at the window of a large old-fashioned house, looking out into Connecticut Avenue.  It was almost dark.  An occasional light twinkled outside in the street, but the room in which Barbara was stationed was still shrouded in twilight.

Suddenly she heard a curtain at the farther end of the drawing-room rustle faintly.

Bab turned and saw a young man standing between the curtains, peering into the shadows with a pair of near-sighted eyes.

Barbara started.  The stranger had entered the room through a small study that adjoined it.  He seemed totally unaware of any other presence, for he was whistling softly:  “Kathleen Mavourneen.”

“I beg your pardon,” Bab began impulsively, “but are you looking for some one?”

The newcomer flashed a charming smile at Barbara.  He did not seem in the least surprised at her appearance.

“No,” he declared cheerfully, “I was not looking for any one or anything.  The butler told me Mr. Hamlin and Harriet were both out.  But, I say, don’t you think I am fortunate to have found you quite by accident!  I came in here to loaf a few minutes.”

Barbara frowned slightly.  The young man’s manner was surprisingly familiar, and she had never seen him before in her life.

“I hope I am not disturbing you,” he went on gayly.  “I am an attache of the Russian legation, and a friend of Miss Hamlin’s.  I came with a message for Mr. Hamlin.  I was wondering if it were worth while to wait for him.  But I can go away if I am troublesome.”

“Oh, no, you are not disturbing me in the least,” Barbara returned.  “I expect Miss Hamlin and my friends soon.  We arrived in Washington last night, and the other girls have gone out to a reception.  I had a headache and stayed at home.  Won’t you be seated while I ring for the butler to turn on the lights?”

The newcomer sat down, gravely watching Barbara.

“Would you like me to guess who you are?” he asked, after half a minute’s silence.

Bab laughed.  “I am sure you will give me the first chance to tell you your name.  I did not recognize you at first.  But I believe Harriet told us about you last night.  She described several of her Washington friends to us.  You are Peter Dillon, aren’t you?”

“At your service,” declared the young attache, who looked almost boyish.  “But now give me my opportunity.  I do not know your name, but I have guessed this much.  You are an ‘Automobile Girl!’ Permit me to bid you welcome to Washington.”

Barbara nodded her head decidedly.  “Yes, I am Barbara Thurston, one of the ‘Automobile Girls.’  There are four of us.  Harriet has probably explained to you.  My sister, Mollie Thurston, Grace Carter, Ruth Stuart and I form the quartet.  Mr. William Hamlin is Ruth’s uncle.  So we are going to spend a few weeks here with Harriet and see the Capital.  I have never been in Washington before.”