Part 6 (1/2)

I glanced toward the Jackson box and saw a group of our most intimate friends--Edith's bridge club members and several of the girls in my set, too.

”All right,” I said, and we got up and strolled along the aisle.

As we approached I observed one of the women nudge another. I saw Helene McClellan open her mouth to speak and then close it quickly as she caught sight of us. I felt under Mrs. Jackson's over-effusive greeting the effort it was for her to appear easy and cordial. The group must have been talking about the masquerade, for as we joined it there ensued an uncomfortable silence. I would have withdrawn, but Edith pinched my arm and boldly went over and sat down in one of the empty chairs.

We couldn't have been there five minutes when Mrs. Sewall came strolling along the aisle, accompanied by Miss Oliphant. She, who usually held herself so aloof, was very gracious this afternoon, smiling cordially at left and right, and stopping now and again to present her niece. I saw her recognize Mrs. Jackson and then smilingly approach her. We all rose as our hostess got up and beamingly put her hand into Mrs. Sewall's extended one.

”How do you do, Mrs. Jackson,” said Mrs. Sewall. ”I've been enjoying your lovely boxful of young ladies all the afternoon. Charming, really!

Delightful! I hope you are all planning to come to my masquerade,” she went on, addressing the whole group now. ”I want it to be a success. I am giving it for my little guest here--and my son also,” she added with a significant smile, as if to imply that the coupling of Miss Oliphant's and her son's names was not accidental. ”Oh, how do you do, Mrs.

McClellan!” she interrupted herself, smiling across the group to Helene who stood next to me, ”I haven't caught your eye before today. I hope you're well--and oh, Miss McDowell!” She bowed to Leslie McDowell on my other side.

It was just about at this juncture that I observed Edith threading her way around back of several chairs toward Mrs. Sewall. I wish I could have stopped her, but it was too late. I heard her clear voice suddenly exclaiming from easy speaking distance,

”How do you do, Mrs. Sewall.”

”Ah! how do you do!” the lady condescended to reply. There was chilliness in the voice. Edith continued.

”We're so delighted,” she went on bravely, ”to have Gra.s.smere occupied again. The lights are very pretty on your hilltop from The Homestead, our place, you know.”

”Ah, The Homestead!” The chilliness was frosty now. Edith blushed.

”Perhaps you do not recall me, Mrs. Sewall--I am Mrs. Alexander Vars--you know. My sister----”

”Oh, yes--Mrs. Alexander Vars. I recall you quite well, Mrs. Vars.

Perfectly, in fact,” she said. Then stopped short. There was a terrible silence. It continued like a long-drawn out note on a violin.

”Oh,” nervously piped out some one in the group, at last, ”look at that lovely horse! I just adore black ones!”

Mrs. Sewall raised her lorgnette and gazed at the track.

”By the way, Mrs. Jackson,” she resumed, as if she had not just slaughtered poor Edith. ”By the way, can you tell me the partic.i.p.ants in the next event? I've left my program. So careless!” she purred. And afterwards she smilingly accepted a proffered armchair in the midst of the scene of her successful encounter.

It would have been thoughtful, I think, and more humane to have waited until the wounded had been carried away--or crawled away. For there was no one to offer a helping hand to Edith and me. I didn't expect it. In social encounters the vanquished must look out for themselves. With what dignity I could, I advanced towards Mrs. Jackson.

”Well, I must trot along,” I said lightly. ”My turn at the hurdles will be coming soon. Come, Edith, let's go and have a look at Blue-gra.s.s.

Good-by.” And leisurely, although I longed to cast down my eyes and hasten quickly away from the staring faces, I strolled out of the box, followed by Edith; walked without haste along the aisle, even stopping twice to exchange a word or two with friends; and finally escaped.

CHAPTER IX

CATASTROPHE

The incident at the horse show was simply the beginning. I couldn't go anywhere--to a tea, to the Country Club, or even down town for a morning's shopping--and feel sure of escaping a fresh cut or insult of some kind. Mrs. Sewall went out of her way to make occasion to meet and ignore me. It was necessary for her to go out of her way, for we didn't meet often by chance. I was omitted from the many dinners and dances which all the hostesses in Hilton began to give in Miss Oliphant's honor. I was omitted from the more intimate afternoon tea and sewing parties. Gale attended them now, and of course it would have been awkward.

I didn't blame my girl friends for leaving me out. I might have done the same to one of them. It isn't contrary to the rules. In fact the few times I did encounter the old a.s.sociates it was far from pleasant. There was a feeling of constraint. There was nothing to talk about, either.

Even my manicurist and hairdresser, usually so conversational about all the social events of the community, felt embarra.s.sed and ill at ease, with the parties at Gra.s.smere, the costumes for the masquerade, Miss Oliphant, and the Vars scandal barred from the conversation.

I was glad that Alec was away on a western trip. He, at least, was spared the unbeautifying effect of the ordeal upon his wife and sister.