talent of Wilbur, and yet shared his subjective, unenthusiastic ways.  More than once it had occurred to her that the presidency of Wetmore was the place of all others for which she herself was fitted.  Indeed, until Lyons had offered himself she had cherished in her inner consciousness the hope that the course of events might demonstrate that she was the proper person to direct the energies of this new medium for the higher education of women.  It irritated her to think that an institution founded by Benham philanthropy, and which would be a vital influence in the development of Benham womanhood, should be under the control of one who was hostile to American theories and methods.  Selma felt so strongly on the subject that she thought of airing her objections in a letter to Mr. Flagg, the donor, but she concluded to suspend her strictures until her return to Benham.  She sent, however, to Miss Bailey, who was now regularly attached to one of the Benham newspapers, notes for an article which should deplore the choice by the trustees of one who was unfamiliar and presumably out of sympathy with Benham thought and impulse.

Selma’s emotions on her arrival in Washington were very different from those which she had experienced in New York as the bride of Littleton.  Then she had been unprepared for, dazed, and offended by what she saw.  Now, though she mentally assumed that the capital was the parade ground of American ideas and principles, she felt not merely no surprise at the august appearance of the wide avenues, but she was eagerly on the lookout, as they drove from the station to the hotel, for signs of social development.  The aphorism which she had supplied to her husband, that the American people prefer to have their representatives live comfortably, dwelt in her thoughts and was a solace to her.  Despite her New York experience, she had the impression that the doors of every house in Washington would fly open at her approach as the wife of a Congressman.  She did not formulate her anticipations as to her reception, but she entertained a general expectation that their presence would be acknowledged as public officials in a notable way.  She dressed herself on the morning after their arrival at the hotel with some showiness, so as to be prepared for flattering emergencies.  She had said little to her husband on the subject, for she had already discovered that, though he was ambitious that they should appear well, he was disposed to leave the management of social concerns to her.  His information had been limited to bidding her come prepared for the reception to be given at the White House at the reassembling of Congress.  Selma had brought her wedding-dress for this, and was looking forward to it as a gala occasion.

The hotel was very crowded, and Selma became aware that many of the guests were the wives and daughters of other Congressmen, who seemed to be in the same predicament as herself—­that is, without anyone to speak to and waiting in their best clothes for something to happen.  Lyons knew a few of them, and was making acquaintances in the corridors, with some of whom he exchanged an introduction of wives.  As she successively met these other women, Selma perceived that no one of them was better dressed than herself, and she reflected with pleasure that they would doubtless be available allies in her crusade against frivolity and exclusiveness.