resolutely. "Stuyvesant can't get into the service of any of these countries. He—"
"I'd like to know why not!" she cried sharply. "He is a gentleman, he has manner, he is— Well, isn't he as good as any of the young men one sees at the English or the French Legations in Washington?"
"I grant you all that, but he is an American just the same. He can't be born all over again, you know, with a new pair of parents. He's got to be in the American diplomatic corps, or in no corps at all. Now, get that through your head, my dear."
She finally got it through her head, and resigned herself to the American service, deciding that the Court of St. James offered the most desirable prospects in view of its close proximity to the other great capitals of Europe.
"Stuyvesant likes London next to Paris, and he could cross over to France whenever he felt the need of change."
Mr. Smith-Parvis looked harassed.
"Easier said than done," he ventured. "These chaps in the legations have to stick pretty close to their posts. He can't be running about, all over the place, you know. It isn't expected. You might as well understand in the beginning that he'll have to work like a nailer for a good many years before he gets anywhere in the diplomatic service."
"Nonsense. Doesn't the President appoint men to act as Ambassadors who never had an hour's experience in diplomacy? It's all a matter of politics. I'm sorry to say. Philander, the right men are never ap-
