"Then let me tell you," he said, authoritatively, "you made a big mistake. That man Crane is on the Committee on Manufactures, and we have been arguing with him, and sending the most expensive men we have to prove to him that we are entitled to the same rebate on the platinum used in our machines as the Oshkosh Shoe-Stitching-Machine people get—and I have reason to know that Crane is the man standing in the way. I wish you had snuggled right up to him."
Eleanor surveyed her father with cold displeasure. Mrs. Hill-Smith was politely oblivious, especially of the word "snuggled." Coming, as she did, of a very old family which dated back to 1860, she felt a certain degree of commiseration for brand-new people like the Baldwins, who had not appeared above the social horizon until 1880—twenty years later. But she really liked them, and with a diplomatic instinct inherited from her father she relieved the situation by rising and saying:
"I see dear Mrs. Baldwin on the balcony and must go and speak to her."
And as she flitted through the glass door a deep masculine voice just behind Eleanor said:
