“I think it is the most beautiful building in Washington, and, in fact, one of the finest in the world,” she said enthusiastically, and later when the “Automobile Girls” were fairly inside the famous library, they fully agreed with her.  It was particularly hard to tear Barbara away from what seemed to her the most fascinating place she was ever in, and she announced her intention of visiting it again at the first opportunity.

The sightseers arrived home in time for luncheon and at four o’clock that afternoon they stood in a row, beside Harriet Hamlin and her father, helping to receive the guests who crowded in to the reception.  Some of the women wore beautiful gowns, others looked as though they had come from small towns where the residents knew nothing of fashionable society.

Mollie and Bab wore the white chiffon frocks Mr. Prescott had presented them with in Chicago.  But Grace and Ruth wore gowns that had been ordered for this particular occasion.  Bab thought their white frocks, which looked as though they were new, as pretty as any of the gowns worn there.  But little Mollie was not satisfied.  She hated old clothes, no matter how well they looked.  And Harriet Hamlin was rarely beautiful in an imported gown of pale, yellow crepe.

After receiving for an hour, Bab slipped quietly into a chair near a window.  She wished to examine the guests at her leisure.  Mollie and Ruth were deep in conversation with Mrs. Post and Hugh.  Grace was talking to Dorothy and Gwendolin Morton.

Barbara’s eyes wandered eagerly over the throng of people.  Suddenly some one touched her on the shoulder.

“You do not remember me, do you?”

Bab turned and saw a young woman.

“I am Marjorie Moore,” said the newcomer.  “I am the girl who came to ask you for your pictures.  Perhaps you think it is strange for me to come to Harriet Hamlin’s reception when she was so rude to me last night.  But I am not a guest.  Besides, newspaper people are not expected to have any feelings.  My newspaper sent me to find out what people were here this afternoon.  So here I am!  I know everybody in Washington.  Would you like me to point out some of the celebrities to you?  See that stunning woman just coming in at the door?  She has the reputation of being the most popular woman in Washington.  But nobody knows just where she comes from, or who she is, or how she gets her money.  But I must not talk Washington gossip.  You’ll meet her soon yourself.”

“How do you do, Miss Moore?” broke in a charming contralto voice.  “You are the very person I wish to see.  I can give you some news for your paper.  It is not very important, but I thought you might like to have it.”

“You are awfully good, Mrs. Wilson,” Marjorie Moore replied gratefully.  “I have just been talking to Miss Thurston about you.  May I introduce her?  She has just arrived in Washington, and I told her, only half a second ago, that you were the nicest woman in this town.”