Part 15 (1/2)
And it was not long till every corner in the house had a sleeper languis.h.i.+ng in the happy shades of somnolence. Mr. Monroe, the astute ghost of quietness, after cavorting for a considerable time like a nanny goat in a field of crimson clover, was among the first to succ.u.mb to the silencing influence of the giver of potency, and disappeared, like a settling stone, into a whirlpool of revelry. And young Jasper Cobb, the gay and handsome son of the Thanksgiving father and mother, after cutting capers that would put to ignominious flight a colored gen'man at a cake walk, gave up the contest at last and became numbered among the rec.u.mbent forms that rested, like so many babes in the woods, along the walls.
You are not supposed to believe that the Jarneys witnessed all these antics of the merry makers at this party, to which a half column s.p.a.ce in the society page of the Sunday newspapers was devoted. No, you are not to believe they remained, retaining all their senses, to witness this pyretic debauch of high society. The truth is, that the Jarneys came as a matter of form in deference to Mr. Cobb, one of the high-ups in business; and they left in deference to their conscience and self-respect. The fact is, that after the second number was rendered, Mr. and Mrs. Jarney, seeing how things were going, and also at the solicitation of Miss Edith, took their ward, Star Barton, and repaired to their home.
”Well, how do you like high society?” asked Edith, when she and Star had reached their boudoir for a short lounging before going to bed.
”If that party is a fair sample, I don't like it,” emphatically answered Star. ”Why, it is no more respectable, if half as much, with all their fine things and glitter, than some of the hoe-downs in h.e.l.l's Half Acre.”
”I am very sorry we attended,” said Edith.
”I am not,” returned Star. ”It has been a great lesson to me.”
”Would you go again?” asked Edith.
”I shall always be guided by you, dear Edith.”
”Then you will have no further opportunity to attend a function of that kind, for that is the last for me,” said Edith; ”especially with that cla.s.s of people. Papa and mamma care nothing for such doings; neither do I; but owing to business connections, we are obliged to lend our presence, sometimes. Formality! Star; formality!”
”Is it one of the requirements of business?” asked Star, innocently.
”It is a deplorable truth,” answered Edith.
”I am glad, dear Edith, you are not wrapped up, heart and soul, with such people,” said Star.
”It is my pleasure to be independent, Star.”
”And I shall follow your example, dear Edith,” returned Star, with unbounden confidence in her friend.
”Say, Star,” said Edith, as she seated herself on an ottoman at the feet of Star, and taking one of Star's hands in hers, ”I have a trip planned for you; will you go?”
”If it is your wish, I will,” answered Star.
”Star,” and Edith looked up into her friend's face, blus.h.i.+ng the least bit, ”you remember the young man of whom I was telling you about meeting by chance? Yes. He is now my father's private secretary.”
”Oh, is he?” asked Star, by rote.
”Yes; and by my request, too. I will take you to my father's office tomorrow, and, if he is there, you shall share his acquaintance with me.”
”I shall be glad to meet him--if he is your friend,” said Star.
”He is my friend, Star--no, not yet--but I want him to be, Star,” and Edith buried her head in Star's lap to hide her tell-tale face. Then raising her head, in a moment, ”Will you go? Of course you will.”
”If you permit me to talk with him,” said Star, teasingly, ”I will go.”
”Who would think of being jealous of you, my dear Star? Why should I? He is no more--yes, he is--” and Edith buried her face again, while Star stroked her long silken tresses in loving admiration.
”Ho, ho, Edith! I know,” said Star, pointing a finger of jest at her, as she raised her face.
”Do you guess my secret, Star?”