A sudden hush had fallen upon Mount Vernon.

From the river below came the distant sounds of the steamer, which, with its crowds safe on board, was now putting off for Washington.

But the lawns and paths of the house, and the formal garden behind it, and all its simple rooms upstairs and down, were now given back to the spring and silence, save for this last party of sightseers.

The curator, after his preliminary lecture on the veranda, took them within; the railings across the doors were removed; they wandered in and out as they pleased.
Perhaps, however, there were only two persons among the six now following the curator to whom the famous place meant anything more than a means of idling away a warm afternoon.

General Hobson carried his white head proudly through it, saying little or nothing.