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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a24b352 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55719 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55719) diff --git a/old/55719-8.txt b/old/55719-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 743b0ac..0000000 --- a/old/55719-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3339 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Social Secretary, by David Graham Phillips - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Social Secretary - -Author: David Graham Phillips - -Illustrator: Clarence F. Underwood - Ralph Fletcher Seymour - -Release Date: October 9, 2017 [EBook #55719] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOCIAL SECRETARY *** - - - - -Produced by David E. Brown and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -The Social Secretary - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE SOCIAL - SECRETARY - - _by_ - - DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS - Author of The Plum Tree - The Cost etc. etc. - - - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY - CLARENCE F. UNDERWOOD - - Decorations by - Ralph Fletcher Seymour - - - [Illustration] - - - New York - Grosset & Dunlap - Publishers - - - COPYRIGHT 1905 - THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - - OCTOBER - - - - -The Social Secretary - - - - -The Social Secretary - - - - -I - - -November 29. At half-past one to-day--half-past one exactly--I began my -"career." - -Mrs. Carteret said she would call for me at five minutes to one. But -it was ten minutes after when she appeared, away down at the corner of -I Street. Jim was walking up and down the drawing-room; I was at the -window, watching that corner of I Street. "There she blows!" I cried, -my voice brave, but my heart like a big lump of something soggy and -sad. - -Jim hurried up and stood behind me, staring glumly over my shoulder. He -has proposed to me in so many words more than twenty times in the last -three years, and has looked it every time we've met--we meet almost -every day. I could feel that he was getting ready to propose again, but -I hadn't the slightest fear that he'd touch me. He's in the army, and -his "pull" has kept him snug and safe at Washington and has promoted -him steadily until now he's a Colonel at thirty-five. But he was -brought up in a formal, old-fashioned way, and he'd think it a deadly -insult to a woman he respected enough to ask her to be his wife if he -should touch her without her permission. I admire Jim's self-restraint, -but--I couldn't bear being married to a man who worshiped me, even if -I only liked him. If I loved him, I'd be utterly miserable. I've been -trying hard to love Jim for the past four months, or ever since I've -really realized how desperate my affairs are. But I can't. And the most -exasperating part of my obstinacy is that I can't find a good reason or -excuse for it. - -As I was saying--or, rather, writing--Jim stood behind me and said in a -husky sort of voice: "You ain't goin' to do it, are you, Gus?" - -I didn't answer. If I had said anything, it would have been a feeble, -miserable "No"--which would have meant that I was accepting the -alternative--him. All my courage had gone and I felt contemptibly -feminine and dependent. - -I looked at him--I did like the expression of his eyes and the strength -and manliness of him from head to foot. What a fine sort of man a -"pull" and a private income have spoiled in Jim Lafollette! He went on: -"Surely, I'm not more repellent to you than--than what that auto is -coming to take you away to." - -"Shame on you, Jim Lafollette!" I said angrily--most of the anger so -that he wouldn't understand and take advantage of the tears in my eyes -and voice. "But how like you! How _brave_!" - -He reddened at that--partly because he felt guilty toward me, partly -because he is ashamed of the laziness that has made him shirk for -thirteen years. "I don't care a hang whether it's brave or not, or -_what_ it is," he said sullenly. "I want _you_. And it seems to me I've -got to do something--use force, if necessary--to keep you from--_from -that_. You ain't fit for it, Gus--not in any way. Why, it's worse than -being a servant. And you--brought up as you've been--" - -I laughed--a pretty successful effort. "I've been educating for it all -my life, without knowing it. And it's honest and independent. If you -had the right sort of ideas of self-respect, you'd be ashamed of me if -you thought I'd be low enough to marry a man I couldn't give my heart -to--for a living." - -"Don't talk rubbish," he retorted. "Thousands of women do it. Besides, -if I don't mind, why should you? God knows you've made it plain enough -that you don't love me. Gus, why can't you marry me and let me save you -from this just as a brother might save a sister?" - -"Because I may love somebody some day, Jim," said I. I wanted to hurt -him--for his own sake, and also because I didn't want him to tempt me. - -The auto was at the curb. He didn't move until I was almost at the -drawing-room door. Then he rushed at me and his look frightened me a -little. He caught me by the arm. "It's the last chance, Augusta!" he -exclaimed. "Won't you?" - -I drew away and hurried out. "Then you don't intend to have anything -to do with me after I've crossed the line and become a toiler?" I -called back over my shoulder. I couldn't resist the temptation to be -thoroughly feminine and leave the matter open by putting him in the -wrong with my "woman's last word." I was so low in my mind that I -reasoned that my adventure might be as appalling as I feared, in which -case it would be well to have an alternative. I wonder if the awful -thoughts we sometimes have are our real selves or if they just give us -the chance to measure the gap between what we might be as shown by them -and what we are as shown by our acts. I hope the latter, for surely I -can't be as poor a creature as I so often have impulses to make myself. - -Mrs. Carteret was waiting for the servant to open the door. I hurried -her back toward the auto, being a little afraid that Jim would be -desperate enough to come out and beg her to help him--and I knew she -would do it if she were asked. In the first place, Jessie always does -what she's asked to do--if it helps her to spend time and breath. In -the second place, she'd never let up on me if she thought I had so good -a chance to marry. For she knows that Washington is the hardest place -in the world for a woman to find a husband unless she's got something -that appeals to the ambition of men. Besides, she thinks, as do many of -my friends, that I am indifferent to men and discourage them. As if any -woman was indifferent to men! The only point is that women's ideas of -what constitutes a man differ, and my six years in this cosmopolis have -made me somewhat discriminating. - -But to return to Jessie, she was full of apologies for being late. -"I've thought of nothing but you, dear, for two days and nights. And I -thought that for once in my life I'd be on time. Yet here I am, fifteen -minutes late, unless that clock's wrong." She was looking at the -beautiful little clock set in the dashboard of the auto. - -"Only fifteen minutes!" I said. "And you never before were known to -be less than half an hour late. You even kept the President waiting -twenty minutes." - -"Isn't it stupid, this fussing about being on time?" she replied. "I -don't believe any but dull people and those who want to get something -from one are ever on time. For those who really live, life is so full -that punctuality is impossible. But I should have been on time, if I -hadn't been down seeing the Secretary of War about Willie Catesby--poor -Willie! He has been _so_ handicapped by nature!" - -"Did you get it for him?" I asked. - -"I think so--third secretary at St. Petersburg. The secretary said: -'But Willie is almost an imbecile, Mrs. Carteret. If we don't send -him abroad, his family'll have to put him away.' And I said: 'That's -true, Mr. Secretary. But if we don't send that sort of people to -foreign courts, how are we to repay the insults they send us in the -form of imbecile attachés?' And then I handed him six letters from -senators--every one of them a man whose vote he needs for his fight -on that nomination. They were _real_ letters. So presently he said, -'Very well, Mrs. Carteret, I'll do what I can to resent the Czar's last -insult by exporting Willie to him." - -I waited a moment, then burst out with what I was full of. "You think -she'll take me?" I said. - -Jessie reproached me with tragedy in her always intensely serious gray -eyes. "Take _you_?" she exclaimed. "Take a Talltowers when there's a -chance to get one? Why, as soon as I explained who you were, she fairly -quivered with eagerness." - -"You had to _explain_ who a Talltowers is?" I said with mock -amazement. It's delightful to poke fun at Jessie; she always -appreciates a jest by taking it more seriously than an ordinary -statement of fact. - -"But, dear, you mustn't be offended. You know Mrs. Burke is very common -and ignorant. She doesn't know the first thing about the world. She -said to me the other day that she had often heard there were such -things as class distinctions, but had never believed it until she came -to Washington--she had thought it was like the fairy stories. She never -was farther east than Chicago until this fall. She went there to the -Fair. You must get her to tell you how she and three other women who -belong to the same Chautauqua Circle went on together and slept in the -same room and walked from dawn till dark every day, catalogue in hand, -for eleven days. It's too pathetic. She said, 'My! but my feet were -sore. I thought I was a cripple for life.'" - -"That sounds nice and friendly," said I, suspicious that Jessie's -quaint sense of humor had not permitted her to appreciate Mrs. Burke. -"I'm so dreadfully afraid I'll fall into the clutches of people that'll -try to--to humiliate me." - -Tears sprang to Jessie's eyes. "Please don't, Gus!" she pleaded. -"They'll be only too deferential. And you must keep them so. I suspect -that Mrs. Burke chums with her servants." - -We were stopping before the house--the big, splendid Ralston Castle, -as they call it; one of the very finest of the houses that have been -building since rich men began to buy into the Senate and Cabinet -and aspire for diplomatic places, and so have attracted other rich -families to Washington. What a changed Washington it is, and what a -fight the old simplicity is making against the new ostentation! The -sight of the Ralston Castle in my present circumstances depressed me -horribly. I went to my second ball there, and it was given for me by -Mrs. Ralston. And only a little more than a year ago I danced in the -quadrille of honor with the French Ambassador--and the next week the -Ralstons went smash and hurried abroad to hide, all except the old man -who is hanging round Wall Street, they say, trying to get on his feet -with the aid of his friends. Friends! How that word must burn into -him every time he thinks of it. When he got into a tight place his -"friends" took advantage of their knowledge of his affairs to grab his -best securities, they say. No doubt he was disagreeable in a way, but -still those who turned on him the most savagely had been intimate with -him and had accepted his hospitality. - -"You'll be mistress here," Jessie was saying. She had put on her -prophetic look and pose--she really believes she has second sight at -certain times. "And you'll marry the son, if you manage it right. I -counted him in when I was going over the advantages and disadvantages -of the place before proposing it to you. He looks like a mild, nice -young man--though I must say I don't fancy cowlicks right in the part -of the hair. I saw only his picture." - -A tall footman with an insolent face opened the door and ushered -us into the small drawing-room to the left: "Mrs. Carteret! Miss -Talltowers!" he shouted--far louder than is customary or courteous. I -saw the impudent grin in his eyes--no proper man-servant ever permits -any one to see his eyes. And he almost dropped the curtain in our -faces, in such haste was he to get back to his lounging-place below -stairs. - -His roar had lifted to her feet an elderly woman with her hair so -badly dyed that it made her features look haggard and harsh and even -dissipated. She made a nervous bow. She was of the figure called stout -by the charitable and sumptuous by the crude. She was richly-dressed, -over-dressed, dressed-up--shiny figured satin with a great deal of -beads and lace that added to her width and subtracted from her height. -She stood miserable, jammed and crammed into a tight corset. Her -hands--very nice hands, I noticed--were folded upon her stomach. As -soon as I got used to that revolting hair-dye, I saw that she had in -fact a large-featured, sweet face with fine brown eyes. Even with the -dye she was the kind of looking woman that it sounds perfectly natural -to hear her husband call "mother." - -Jessie went up to her as she stood wretched in her pitiful attempt at -youth and her grandeur of clothes and surroundings. Mrs. Burke looked -down kindly, with a sudden quizzical smile that reminded me of my -suspicions as to the Chicago Fair story. Jessie was looking up like a -plump, pretty, tame robin, head on one side. "_Dear_ Mrs. Burke," she -said. "This is Miss Talltowers, and I'm sure you'll love each other." - -Mrs. Burke looked at me--I thought, with a determined attempt to be -suspicious and cautious. I'm afraid Jessie's reputation for tireless -effort to do something for everybody has finally "queered" her -recommendations. However, whatever warning Mrs. Burke had received went -for nothing. She was no match for Jessie--Jessie from whom his Majesty -at the White House hides when he knows she's coming for an impossible -favor--she was no match for Jessie and she knew it. She wiped the sweat -from her face and stammered: "I hope we'll suit each other, Miss--" In -her embarrassment she had forgotten my name. - -"Talltowers," whispered Jessie with a side-splitting look of tragic -apology to me. Just then the clock in the corner struck out the -half-hour from its cathedral bell--the sound echoed and reëchoed -through me, for it marked the beginning of my "career." Jessie went on -more loudly: "And now that our _business_ is settled, can't we have -some lunch, Mrs. Burke? I'm starved." - -Mrs. Burke brightened. "The Senator won't be here to-day," she drawled, -in a tone which always suggests to me that, after all, life is a -smooth, leisurely matter with plenty of time for everything except -work. "As he was leaving for the Capitol this morning, he says to me, -says he: 'You women had better fight it out alone.'" - -"The _dear_ Senator!" said Jessie. "He's _so_ clever?" - -"Yes, he _is_ mighty clever with those he likes," replied Mrs. -Burke--Jessie looking at me to make sure I would note Mrs. Burke's -"provincial" way of using the word clever. - -Jessie saved the luncheon--or, at least, thought she was saving it. -Mrs. Burke and I had only to listen and eat. I caught her looking at -me several times, and then I saw shrewdness in her eyes--good-natured, -but none the less penetrating for that. And I knew I should like her, -and should get on with her. At last our eyes met and we both smiled. -After that she somehow seemed less crowded and foreign in her tight, -fine clothes. I saw she was impatient for Jessie to go the moment -luncheon was over, but it was nearly three o'clock before we were left -alone together. There fell an embarrassed silence--for both of us were -painfully conscious that nothing had really been settled. - -"When do you wish me to come--if you do wish it at all?" I asked, by -way of making a beginning. - -"When do you think you could come?" she inquired nervously. - -"Then you do wish to give me a trial? I hope you won't feel that Mrs. -Carteret's precipitate way binds you." - -She gave me a shrewd, good-natured look. "I want you to come," she -said. "I wanted it from what I'd heard of you--I and Mr. Burke. I want -it more than ever, now that I've seen you. When can you come?" - -"To-morrow--to-morrow morning?" - -"Come as early as you like. The salary is--is satisfactory?" - -"Mrs. Carteret said--but I'm sure--you can judge better--whatever--" I -stuttered, red as fire. - -Mrs. Burke laughed. "I can see you ain't a great hand at business. The -salary is two thousand a year, with a three months' vacation in the -time we're not at Washington. Always have a plain understanding in -money matters--it saves a lot of mean feelings and quarrels." - -"Very well--whatever you think. I don't believe I'm worth much of -anything until I've had a chance to show what I can do." - -"Well, Tom--Mr. Burke--said two thousand would be about right at the -set-off," she drawled in her calming tone. "So we'll consider that -settled." - -"Yes," I gasped, with a big sigh of relief. "I suppose you wish me to -take charge of your social matters--relieve you of the burdensome part -of entertaining?" - -"I just wish you could," she said, with a great deal of humor in her -slow voice. "But I've got to keep that--it's the trying to make people -have a good time and not look and act as if they were wondering why -they'd come." - -"That'll soon wear off," said I. "Most of the stiffness is strangeness -on both sides, don't you think?" - -"I don't know. As nearly as I can make out, they never had a real, -natural good time in their lives. They wear the Sunday, go-to-meeting -clothes and manners the whole seven days. I'll never get used to it. -I can't talk that kind of talk. And if I was just plain and natural, -they'd think I was stark crazy." - -"Did you ever try?" - -She lifted her hands in mock-horror. "Mercy, no! Tom--Mr. Burke--warned -me." - -I laughed. "Men don't know much about that sort of thing," said I. "A -woman might as well let a man tell her how to dress as how to act." - -She colored. "He does," she said, her eyes twinkling. "He was here -two winters--this is my first. I've a kind of feeling that he really -don't know, but he's positive and--I've had nobody else to talk about -it with. I'm a stranger here--not a friend except people who--well, I -can guess pretty close to what they say behind my back." She laughed--a -great shaking of as much of her as was not held rigid by that tight -corset. "Not that I care--I like a joke myself, and I'm a good deal of -a joke among these grand folks. Only, I do want to help Tom, and not be -a drag." She gave me a sudden, sharp look. "I don't know why I trust -you, I'm sure." - -"Because I'm your confidential adviser," said I, "and it's always well -to keep nothing from a confidential adviser." The longer I looked and -listened, the larger possibilities I saw in her. My enthusiasm was -rising. - -She rose and came to me and kissed me. There were tears in her eyes. -"I've been _so_ lonesome," she said. "Even Tom don't seem natural any -more, away off here in the East. Sometimes I get so homesick that I -just can't eat or anything." - -"We're going to have a lot of fun," said I encouragingly--as if she -were twenty-four and I fifty, instead of it being the other way. -"You'll soon learn the ropes." - -"I'm so glad you use slang," she drawled, back in her chair and -comfortably settled. "My, but Tom'll be scandalized. He's made -inquiries about you and has made up his mind that whatever you say is -right. And I almost believed he knew the trails. I might 'a' known! -He's a man, you see, and always was stiff with the ladies. You ought -to 'a' seen the letter he wrote proposing to me. You see, I'm kind of -fat and always was. Mother used to tease me because I hadn't any beaux -except Tom, who wouldn't come to the point. She said: 'Lizzie, you'll -never have a man make real love to you.' And she was right. When Tom -proposed he wrote very formal-like--not a sentimental word. And when -we were married and got better acquainted, I teased him about it, and -tried to get him to make love, real book kind of love. But not a word! -But he's fond of me--we always have got on fine, and his being no good -at love-talk is just one of our jokes." - -It was fine to hear her drawl it out--I knew that she was sure to make -a hit, if only I could get her under way, could convince her that it's -nice to be natural if you're naturally nice. - -"Tom" came in from the Senate and I soon saw that, though she was a -"really" lady, of the only kind that is real--the kind that's born -right, he was a made gentleman, and not a very successful job. He was -small and thin and dressed with the same absurd stiff care with which -he had made her dress. He had a pointed reddish beard and reddish -curls, and he used a kind of scent that smelt cheap though it probably -wasn't. He was very precise and distant with me--how "Lizzie's" eyes -did twinkle as she watched him. I saw that she was "on to" Tom with the -quickness with which a shrewd woman always finds out, once she gets the -clue. - -"Have you had Miss Talltowers shown her rooms, Mrs. Burke?" he soon -inquired. - -"Why, no, pa," replied Mrs. Burke. "I forgot it clear." As she said -"pa" he winced and her eyes danced with fun. She went on to me: "You -don't mind our calling each other pa and ma before you, do you, Miss -Talltowers? We're so used to doing it that, if you minded it and we had -to stop, we'd feel as if we had company in the house all the time." - -I didn't dare answer, I was so full of laughter. For "pa" looked as if -he were about to sink through the floor. She led me up to my rooms--a -beautiful suite on the third floor. "We took the house furnished," she -explained as we went, "and I feel as if I was living in a hotel--except -that the servants ain't nearly so nice. I do hope you'll help me with -them. Tom wanted me to take a housekeeper, but those that applied were -such grand ladies that I'd rather 'a' done all my own work than 'a' -had any one of them about. Perhaps we could get one now, and you could -kind of keep her in check." - -"I think it'd be better to have some one," I replied. "I've had -some experience in managing a house." I couldn't help saying it -unsteadily--not because I miss our house; no, I'm sure it wasn't that. -But I suddenly saw the old library and my father looking up from -his book to smile lovingly at me as I struggled with the household -accounts. Anyhow, deep down I'm glad he did know so little about -business and so much about everything that's fine. I'd rather have my -memories of him than any money he could have left me by being less of a -father and friend and more of a "practical" man. - -Mrs. Burke looked at me sympathetically--I could see that she longed -to say something about my changed fortunes, but refrained through fear -of not saying the right thing. I must teach her never to be afraid of -that--a born lady with a good heart could never be really tactless. -She went to the front door with me, opening it for me herself to -the contemptuous amusement of the tall footman. We shook hands and -kissed--I usually can't bear to have a woman kiss me, but I'd have felt -badly if "ma" Burke hadn't done it. - -When I got back to Rachel's and burst into the drawing-room with a -radiant face, I heard a grunt like a groan. It was from Jim in the -twilight near Rachel at the tea-table. "I'm going out to service -to-morrow," said I to Rachel. "So you're to be rid of your visitor at -last." - -"Oh, Gus!" exclaimed Rachel between anger and tears. And Jim looked -black and sullen. But I was happy--and am to-night. Happy for the -first time in two years. I'm going to _do_ something--and it is -something that interests me. I'm going to launch a fine stately ship, a -full-rigged four-master in this big-little sea of Washington society. -What a sensation I can make with it among the pretty holiday boats! - - - - -II - - -December 6. Last Monday morning young Mr. Burke--Cyrus, the son and -heir--arrived, just from Germany. The first glimpse I had of him was as -he entered the house between his father and his mother, who had gone to -the station to meet him. I got myself out of the way and didn't come -down until "ma" Burke sent for me. I liked the way she was sitting -there beaming--but then, I like almost everything she does; she's such -a large, natural person. She never stands, except on her way to sit -just as soon as ever she can. "I never was a great hand for using my -feet," she said to me on my second day, "and I don't know but about -as much seems to 'a' come to find me as most people catch up with by -running their legs off." I liked the way her son was hovering about -her. And I liked the way "pa" Burke hovered round them both, nervous -and pulling at his whiskers and trying to think of things to say--if he -only wouldn't use brilliantine, or whatever it is, on his whiskers! - -"Cyrus, this is my friend, Miss Talltowers," said Mrs. Burke. I smiled -and he clapped his heels together with a click and doubled up as if he -had a sudden pain in his middle, just like all the northern Continental -diplomats. When he straightened back to the normal I took a good look -at him--and he at me. I don't know--or, rather, didn't then know--what -_he_ thought. But I thought him--well, "common." He has a great big -body that's strong and well-proportioned; but his features are so -insignificant--a small mouth, a small nose, small ears, eyes, forehead, -small head. And there, in the very worst place--just where the part -ought to be--was the cowlick I'd noticed in his photograph. When he -began to speak I liked him still less. He's been at Berlin three years, -but still has his Harvard accent. I wonder why they teach men at -Harvard to use their lips in making words as a Miss Nancy sort of man -uses his fingers in doing fancy work? - -Neither of us said anything memorable, and presently he went away to -his room, his mother going up with him. His father followed to the -foot of the stairs, then drifted away to his study where he could lie -in wait for Cyrus on his way down. Pretty soon his mother came into the -"office" they've given me--it's just off the drawing-room so that I can -be summoned to it the instant any one comes to see Mrs. Burke. - -[Illustration: CLARENCE F. UNDERWOOD] - -"I've let his pa have him for a while," she explained, as she came in. -I saw that she was full of her boy, so I turned away from my books. -She rambled on about him for an hour, not knowing what she was saying, -but just pouring out whatever came into her head. "His pa has always -said I'd spoil him," was one of the things I remember, "but I don't -think love ever spoiled anybody." Also she told me that his real -name wasn't Cyrus but Bucyrus, the town his father originally came -from--it's somewhere in Ohio, I think she said. "And," said she, -"whenever I want to cut his comb I just give him his name. He tames -right down." Also that he has used all sorts of things on the cowlick -without success. "There it is, still," said she, "as cross-grained as -ever. I like it about the best of anything, except maybe his long legs. -I'm a duck-leg myself, and his pa--well, _his_ legs 'just about reach -the ground,' as Lincoln said, and after that the less said the sooner -forgot. But Cyrus has _legs_. And his cowlick matches a cowlick in his -disposition--a kind of gnarly knot that you can't cut nor saw through -nor get round no way. It's been the saving of him, he's so good-natured -and easy otherwise." And she went on to tell how generous he is, "the -only generous small-eared person I've ever known, though I must say -I have my doubts about ears as a sign. There was Bill Slayback in our -town, with ears like a jack-rabbit, and whenever he had a poor man do a -job of work about his place he used to pay him with a ninety-day note -and then shave the note." - -I was glad when she hurried away at the sound of Cyrus in the hall. -For a huge lot of work there'll be for me to do until I get things in -some sort of order. I've opened a regular set of books to keep the -social accounts in. Of course, nobody who goes in for society, on the -scale we're going into it, could get along without social bookkeeping -as big as a bank's. I pity the official women in the high places who -can't afford secretaries; they must spend hours every night posting and -fussing with their account-books when they ought to be in bed asleep. - -On my second day here "pa" Burke explained what his plans were. "We -wish to make our house," said he, "the most distinguished social center -in Washington, next to the White House--and very democratic. Above all, -Miss Talltowers, democratic." - -"He don't mean that he wants us to do our own work and send out the -wash," drawled "ma" Burke, who was sitting by. "But democratic, with -fourteen servants in livery." - -"I understand," said I. "You wish simplicity, and people to feel at -ease, Mr. Burke." - -"Exactly," he replied in a dubious tone. "But I wish to maintain -the--the dignities, as it were." - -I saw he was afraid I might get the idea he wanted something like those -rough-and-tumble public maulings of the President that they have -at the White House. I hastened to reassure him; then I explained my -plan. I had drawn up a system somewhat like those the President's wife -and the Cabinet women and the other big entertainers have. I'm glad -the Burkes haven't any daughters. If they had I'd certainly need an -assistant. As it is, I'm afraid I'll worry myself hollow-eyed over my -books. - -First, there's the Ledger--a real, big, thick office ledger with almost -four hundred accounts in it, each one indexed. Of course, there aren't -any entries as yet. But there soon will be--what we owe various people -in the way of entertainment, what they've paid, and what they owe us. - -Second, there's my Day-Book. It contains each day's engagements so that -I can find out at a glance just what we've got to do, and can make out -each night before going to bed or early each morning the schedule for -Mrs. Burke for the day, and for Senator Burke and the son, I suppose, -for the late afternoon and the evening. - -Third, there's the Calling-Book. Already I've got down more than -a thousand names. The obscurer the women are--the back-district -congressmen's wives and the like--the greater the necessity for keeping -the calling account straight. I wonder how many public men have had -their careers injured or ruined just because their wives didn't keep -the calling account straight. They say that _men_ forgive slights, and, -when it's to their interest, forget them. But I know the _women_ never -do. They keep the knife sharp and wait for a chance to stick it in, -for years and years. Of course, if the Burkes weren't going into this -business in a way that makes me think the Senator's looking for the -nomination for president I shouldn't be so elaborate. We'd pick out our -set and stick to it and ignore the other sets. As it is, I'm going to -do this thing thoroughly, as it hasn't been done before. - -Fourth, there's our Ball-and-Big-Dinner Book. That's got a list of -all the young men and another of all the young women. And I'm making -notes against the names of those I don't know very well or don't know -at all--notes about their personal appearance, eligibility, capacities -for dancing, conversation, and so forth and so on. If you're going to -make an entertainment a success you've got to know something more or -less definite about the people that are coming, whom to ask to certain -things and whom not to ask. Take a man like Phil Harkness, or a girl -like Nell Witton, for example. Either of them would ruin a dinner, but -Phil shines at a ball, where silence and good steady dancing are what -the girls want. As for Nell, she's possible at a ball only if you can -be sure John Rush or somebody like him is coming--somebody to sit with -her and help her blink at the dancers and be bored. Then there's the -Sam Tremenger sort of man--a good talker, but something ruinous when -he turns loose in a ball-room and begins to batter the women's toilets -to bits. He's a dinner man, but you can't ask him when politics may be -discussed--he gets so violent that he not only talks all the time, but -makes a deafening clamor and uses swear words--and we still have quiet -people who get gooseflesh for damn. - -Then there's--let me see, what number--oh, yes--fifth, there's my -Acceptance-and-Refusal Book. It's most necessary, both as a direct help -and as an indirect check on other books. Then, too, I want it to be -impossible to send the Burkes to places they've said they wouldn't go, -or for them to be out when they've asked people to come here. Those -things usually happen when you've asked some of those dreadful people -that everybody always forgets, yet that are sure to be important at -some critical time. - -Sixth, there's my Book of Home Entertainments--a small book but most -necessary, as arranging entertainments in the packed days of the -Washington season isn't easy. - -Seventh, there's the little book with the list of entertainments other -people are going to give. We have to have that so that we can know -how to make our plans. And in it I'm going to keep all the information -I can get about the engagements of the people we particularly want to -ask. If I'm not sharp-eyed about that I'll fail in one of my principal -duties, which is getting the right sort of people under this roof often -enough during the season to give us "distinction." - -Eighth, there's my Distinguished-Stranger Book. I'm going to make that -a specialty. I want to try to know whenever anybody who is anybody -is here on a visit, so that we can get hold of him if possible. The -White House can get all that sort of information easily because the -distinguished stranger always gives the President a chance to get at -him. _We_ shall have to make an effort, but I think we'll succeed. - -Ninth--that's my book for press notices. It's empty now, but I think -"pa" Burke will be satisfied long before the season is over. - -Quite a library isn't it? How simple it must be to live in a city like -New York or Boston where one bothers only with the people of one set -and has practically no bookkeeping beyond a calling list. And here it's -getting worse and worse each season. - -Let me see, how many sets are there? There's the set that can say -must to us--the White House and the Cabinet and the embassies. Then -there's the set we can say must to--a huge, big set and, in a way, -important, but there's nobody really important in it. Then there's the -still wider lower official set--such people as the under-secretaries -of departments, the attachés of embassies, small congressmen and the -like. Then there's the old Washington aristocracy--my particular crowd. -It doesn't amount to "shucks," as Mrs. Burke would say, but everybody -tries to be on good terms with it, Lord knows why. Finally, there's the -set of unofficial people--the rich or otherwise distinguished who live -in Washington and must be cultivated. And we're going to gather in all -of them, so as not to miss a trick. - -The first one of the Burkes to whom I showed my books and explained -myself in full was "ma" Burke. She looked as if she had been taken with -a "misery," as she calls it. "Lord! Lord!" she groaned. "Whatever have -I got my fool self into?" - -I laughed and assured her that it was nothing at all. "I'm only showing -you _my_ work. All you've got to do is to carry out each day's work. -I'll see to it that you won't even have to bother about what clothes to -wear, unless you want to. You'll be perfectly free to enjoy yourself." - -"_Enjoy_ myself?" said she. "Why, I'll be on the jump from morning till -night." - -"From morning till morning again," I corrected. "The men sleep -in Washington. But the women with social duties have no time for -sleep--only for naps." - -"I reckon it'll hardly be worth while to undress for bed," she said -grimly. "I'm going to have the bed taken out of my room. It'd drive -me crazy to look at it. Such a good bed, too. I always was a great -hand for a good bed. I've often said to pa that you can't put too much -value into a bed--and by bed I don't mean headboard and footboard, nor -canopy nor any other fixings. What do you think of my hair?" - -I was a bit startled by her sudden change of subject. I waited. - -"Don't mind me--speak right out," she said with her good-natured -twinkle. "You might think it wasn't my hair, but it is. The color's -not, though, as you may be surprised to hear." The "surprised" was -broadly satirical. - -"I prefer natural hair," said I, "and gray hair is most becoming. It -makes a woman look younger, not older." - -"That's sensible," said she. "I never did care for bottled hair. I -think it looks bad from the set-off, and gets worse. The widow Pfizer -in our town got so that hers was bright green after she bottled it for -two years, trying to catch old man Coakley. And after she caught him -she bottled his, and it turned out green, too, after a while." - -"Why run such a risk?" said I. "I'm sure your own hair done as your -maid can do it would be far more becoming." - -Mrs. Burke was delighted. "I might have known better," she observed, -"but I found Mr. Burke bottling his beard, and he wanted me to; and it -seemed to me that somehow bottled hair just fitted right in with all -the rest of this foolishness here. How they would rear round at home if -they knew what kind of a place Washington is! Why, I hear that up at -the White House, when the President leaves the table for a while during -meals, all the ladies--women, I mean--his wife and all of them, have to -rise and stand till he comes back." - -"Yes," I replied. "He's started that custom. I like ceremony, don't -you?" - -"No, I can't say that I do," she drawled. "Out home all the drones and -pokes and nobodies are just crazy about getting out in feathers and -red plush aprons and clanking and pawing round, trying to make out -they're somebody. And I've always noticed that whenever anybody that -is a somebody hankers after that sort of thing it's because he's got a -streak of nobody in him. No, I don't like it in Cal Walters out home, -and I don't like it in the President." - -"We've got to do as the other capitals do," said I. "Naturally, as we -get more and more ambassadors, and a bigger army, and the President -more powerful, we become like the European courts. And the President is -simply making a change abruptly that'd have to come gradually anyhow." - -Her eyes began to twinkle. "First thing you know, the country'll turn -loose a herd of steers from the prairies in this town, and--But, long -as it's here, I suppose I've got to abide by it. So I'll do whatever -you say. It'll be a poor do, without my trying to find fault." - -And she's being as good as her word. She makes me tell her exactly -what to do. She is so beautifully simple and ladylike in her frank -confessions of her ignorance--just as the Queen of England would be if -she were to land on the planet Mars and have to learn the ways--the -surface ways, I mean. I've no doubt that outside of a few frills which -silly people make a great fuss about, a lady is a lady from one end of -the universe to the other. - -I'm making the rounds of my friends with Mrs. Burke in this period of -waiting for the season to begin. And she sits mum and keeps her eyes -moving. She's rapidly picking up the right way to say things--that -is, the self-assurance to say things in her own way. I took her -among my friends first because I wanted her to realize that I was -absolutely right in urging her to naturalness. There are so many in the -different sets she'll be brought into contact with who are ludicrously -self-conscious. Certainly, there's much truth in what she says about -the new order. We Americans don't do the European sort of thing well, -and, while the old way wasn't pretty to look at it, it was--it was our -own. However, I'm merely a social secretary, dealing with what is, and -not bothering my head about what ought to be. And as for the Burkes, -they're here to take advantage of what is, not to revolutionize things. - -Mr. Burke himself was the next member of the family at whom I got a -chance with my great plans. When he had got it all out of me he began -to pace up and down the floor, pulling at his whiskers, and evidently -thinking. Finally he looked at me in a kindly, sharp way, and, in a -voice I recognized at once as the voice of the Thomas Burke who had -been able to pile up a fortune and buy into the Senate, said: - -"I double your salary, Miss Talltowers. And I hope you understand that -expense isn't to be considered in carrying out your program. I want you -to act just as if this were all for yourself. And if we succeed I think -you'll find I'm not ungenerous." And before I could try to thank him he -was gone. - -The last member was "Bucyrus." As I knew his parents wished to be -alone with him at first I kept out of the way, breakfasting in my -rooms, lunching and dining out a great deal. What little I saw of him -I didn't like. He ignored me most of the time--and I, for one woman, -don't like to be ignored by any man. When he did speak to me it was as -they speak to the governess in families where they haven't been used -to very much for very long. Perhaps this piqued me a little, but it -certainly amused me, and I spoke to him in an humble, deferential way -that seemed somehow to make him uneasy. - -It was day before yesterday that he came into my office about an hour -after luncheon. He tried to look very dignified and superior. - -"Miss Talltowers," he said, "I must request you to refrain from calling -me sir whenever you address me." - -"I beg your pardon, sir," I replied meekly, "but I have never addressed -you. I hope I know my place and my duty better than that. Oh, no, sir, -I have always waited to be spoken to." - -He blazed a furious red. "I must request you," he said, with his speech -at its most fancy-work like, "not to continue your present manner -toward me. Why, the very servants are laughing at me." - -"Oh, sir," I said earnestly, "I'm sure that's not my fault." And I -didn't spoil it by putting accent on the "that" and the "my." - -He got as pale as he had been red. "Are you trying to make it -impossible for us to remain under the same roof?" he demanded. What a -spoiled stupid! - -"I'm sure, sir," said I, and I think my eyes must have shown what an -unpleasant mood his hinted threat had put me in, "that I'm not even -succeeding in making it impossible for us to remain in my private -office at the same time. Do you understand me, or do you wish me to -make my meaning--" - -He had given a sort of snort and had rushed from the room. - -I suppose I ought to be more charitable toward him. A small person, -brought up to regard himself as a sort of god, and able to buy -flattery, and permitted to act precisely as his humors might -suggest--what is to be expected of such a man? No, not a man but boy, -for he's only twenty-six. _Only_ twenty-six! One would think I was -forty to hear me talking in that way of twenty-six. But women always -seem older than men who are even many years older than they. And how -having to earn my own bread has aged me inside! I think Jessie was -right when she said in that solemn way of hers, "And although, dear -Augusta, they may think you haven't brains enough, I assure you you'll -develop them." Poor, dear Jessie! How she would amuse herself if she -could be as she is, and also have a sense of humor! - -At any rate, Mr. Bucyrus came striding back after half an hour, and, -rather surlily but with a certain grudging manliness, said: "I beg your -pardon, Miss Talltowers, for what I said. I am ashamed of my having -forgotten myself and made that tyrannical speech to you." - -"Thank you, sir," said I, without raising my eyes. "You are most -gracious." - -"And I hope," he went on, "that you will try to treat me as an equal." - -"It'll be very hard to do that, sir," said I. And I lifted my eyes and -let him see that I was laughing at him. - -He shifted uneasily, red and white by turns. "I think you understand -me," he muttered. - -"Perfectly," said I. - -He waved his arm impatiently. "Please don't!" he exclaimed rather -imperiously. "I could have got my mother to--" - -"I hope you won't complain of me to your mother," I pleaded. - -He flushed and snorted, like a horse that is being teased by a fly it -can reach with neither teeth, hoofs nor tail. "You know I didn't mean -that. I'm not an utter cad--now, don't say, 'Aren't you, sir?'" - -"I had no intention of doing so," said I. "In fact I've been trying -to make allowances for you--for your mother's sake. I appreciate that -you've been away from civilization for a long time. And I'm sure we -shall get on comfortably, once you've got your bearings again." - -He was silent, stood biting his lips and looking out of the window. -Presently, when I had resumed my work, he said in an endurable tone and -manner: "I hope you will be kind enough to include me in that admirable -social scheme of yours. Are those your books?" - -I explained them to him as briefly as I could. I had no intention -of making myself obnoxious, but on the other hand I did not, and do -not purpose to go out of my way to be courteous to this silly of an -overgrown, spoiled baby. He tried to be nice in praise of my system, -but I got rid of him as soon as I had explained all that my obligations -as social secretary to the family required. He thanked me as he was -leaving and said, in his most gracious tone, "I shall see that my -father raises your salary." - -I fairly gasped at the impudence of this, but before I could collect -myself properly to deal with him he was gone. Perhaps it was just as -well. I must be careful not to be "sensitive"--that would make me as -ridiculous as he is. - -And that's the man Jim Lafollette is fairly smoking with jealousy of! -He was dining at Rachel's last night, and Rachel put him next me. He -couldn't keep off the subject of "that young Burke." Jessie overheard -him after a while and leaned round and said to me, "How do you and -young Mr. Burke get on?" in her "strictly private" manner--Jessie's -strictly private manner is about as private as the Monument. - -"Not badly," I replied, to punish Jim. "We're gradually getting -acquainted." - -Jim sneered under his mustache. "It's the most shameful scheme two -women ever put up," he said, as if he were joking. - -"Oh, has Jessie told you?" I exclaimed, pretending to be concealing my -vexation. - -"It's the talk of the town," he answered, showing his teeth in a grin -that was all fury and no fun. - -There may be women idiots enough to marry a man who warns them in -advance that he's rabidly jealous, but I'm not one of them. Better a -crust in quietness. - - - - -III - - -December 27. Three weeks simply boiling with business since I wrote -here--and it seems not more than so many days. And all by way of -preparation, for the actual season is still five days away. - -I can hardly realize that Mrs. Burke is the same person I looked at so -dubiously two days less than a month ago. Truly, the right sort of us -Americans are wonderful people. To begin with her appearance: her hair -isn't "bottled," as she called it, any more. It's beautiful iron-gray, -and softens her features and permits all the placid kindliness and -humor of her face to show. Then there's her dress--gracious, how -tight-looking she was! A _thin_ woman can, and should, wear _close_ -things. But no woman who wishes to look like a lady must ever wear -anything _tight_. To be tight in one's clothes is to be tight in one's -talk, manner, thought--and that means--well, common. What an expressive -word "common" is, yet I'm sure I couldn't define it. - -For a fat woman to be tight is--revolting! My idea of misery is a fat -woman in a tight waist and tight shoes. Yet fat women have a mania -for wearing tight things, just as gaunt women yearn for stripes and -short women for flounces. My first move in getting Mrs. Burke into -shape--after doing away with that dreadful "bottled" hair--was to -put her into comfortable clothes. The first time I got her into an -evening dress of the right sort I was rewarded for all my trouble by -her expression. She kissed me with tears in her eyes. "My dear," said -she, "never before did I have a best dress that I wasn't afraid to -breathe in for fear I'd bust out, back or front." Then I made her sit -down before her long glass and look at herself carefully. She had the -prettiest kind of color in her cheeks as she smiled at me and said: "If -I'd 'a' looked like this when I was young I reckon Mr. Burke wouldn't -'a' been so easy in his mind when he went away from home, nor 'a' -stayed so long. I always did sympathize with pretty women when they -capered round, but now I wonder they ever do sober down. If I weighed a -hundred pounds or so less I do believe I'd try to frisk yet." - -And I do believe she could; for she's really a handsome woman. Why is -it that the women who have the most to them don't give it a chance to -show through, but get themselves up so that anybody who glances at them -tries never to look again? - -It is the change in her appearance even more than all she's learned -that has given her self-confidence. She feels at ease--and that puts -her at ease, and puts everybody else at ease, too. It has reacted upon -Mr. Burke. He has dropped brilliantine--perhaps "ma" gave him a quiet -hint--and he has taken some lessons in dress from "Cyrus," who really -gets himself up very well, considering that he has lived in Germany -for three years. I should have hopes that "pa" would blossom out into -something very attractive socially if he hadn't a deep-seated notion -that he is a great joker. A naturally serious man who tries to be funny -is about the most painful object in civilization. Still, Washington -is full of statesmen and scholars who try to unbend and be "light," -especially with "the ladies." Nothing makes me--or any other woman, I -suppose--so angry as for a man to show that he takes me for a fool by -making a grinning galoot of himself whenever he talks to me. Bucyrus is -much that kind of ass. He alternates between solemnity and silliness. - -I said rather pointedly to him the other night: "You men with your -great, deep minds make a mistake in changing your manner when you talk -with the women and the children. Nothing pleases us so much as to be -taken seriously." But it didn't touch him. However, he's hardly to -blame. He's spent a great many years round institutions of learning, -and in those places, I've noticed, every one has a musty, fusty sense -of humor. Probably it comes from cackling at classical jokes that have -laughed themselves as dry as a mummy. - -We've been giving a few entertainments--informal and not large, but -highly important. I had two objects in mind: In the first place, to -get Mr. and Mrs. Burke accustomed to the style of hospitality they've -got to give if they're going to win out. In the second place, to get -certain of the kind of people who are necessary to us in the habit of -coming to this house--and those people are not so very hard to get hold -of now; later they'll be engaged day and night. - -For two weeks now I've had my two especial features going. One of them -is for the men, the other for the women. And I can see already that -they alone would carry us through triumphantly; for they've caught on. - -My men's feature is a breakfast. I engaged a particularly good -cook--the best old-fashioned Southern cook in Washington. Rachel had -her, and I persuaded Mr. Derby to consent to giving her up to us, just -for this season. Cleopatra--that's her name--has nothing to do but -get together every morning by nine o'clock the grandest kind of an -old-fashioned American breakfast. And I explained to Senator Burke that -he was to invite some of his colleagues, as many as he liked, and tell -them to come any morning, or every morning if they wished, and bring -their friends. - -I consult with Cleopatra every day as to what she's to have the next -morning; and I think dear old father taught me what kind of breakfast -men like. I don't give them too much, or they'd be afraid to come -and risk indigestion a second time. I see to it that everything is -perfectly cooked--and it's pretty hard for any man to get indigestion, -even from corned beef hash and hot cornbread and buckwheat cakes with -maple syrup, if it's perfectly cooked and is eaten in a cheerful -frame of mind. No women are permitted at these breakfasts--just men, -with everything free and easy, plenty to smoke, separate tables, but -each large enough so that there's always room at any one of them for -one more who might otherwise be uncomfortable. Even now we have from -fifteen to twenty men--among them the very best in Washington. In the -season we'll have thirty and forty, and our house will be a regular -club from nine to eleven for just the right men. - -My other big feature is an informal dance every Wednesday night. It's -already as great a success in its way as the breakfasts are in theirs. -I've been rather careful about whom I let Mrs. Burke invite to come -in on Wednesdays whenever they like. The result is that everybody is -pleased; the affairs seem to be "exclusive," yet are not. I know it -will do the Burkes a world of good politically, because a certain kind -of people who are important politically but have had no chance socially -are coming to us on Wednesdays, and that's just the kind of people who -are frantically flattered by the idea that they are "in the push." - -Speaking of being "in the push," there are two ways of getting there -if one isn't there. One is to worm your way in; the other is to make -yourself the head and front of "the push." That's the way for those -who have money and know how. And that's the way the Burkes are getting -in--getting in at the front instead of at the rear. - -It's most gratifying to see how Mr. Burke treats me. He always has -been deferential, but he now shows that he thinks I have real brains. -And since his breakfasts have become the talk of the town and are -"patronized" by the men he's so eager to get hold of, he is even -consulting me about his business. I am criticizing for him now a speech -he's going to make on the canal question next month--a dreadfully -dull speech, and I don't feel competent to tell him what to do with -it. I think I'll advise him not to make it, tell him his forte is -diplomacy--winning men round by personal dealing with them--which is -the truth. - -Young Mr. Burke--after a period of unbending--is now shyer than ever. -I wondered why, until it happened to occur to me one day as I was -talking with Jessie. I suddenly said to her: "Jessie, did you ever tell -Nadeshda that you had planned to marry me to Cyrus Burke?" - -She hopped about in her chair a bit, as uneasy as a bird on a swaying -perch. Then she confessed that she "might have suggested before -Nadeshda what a delightfully satisfactory thing it would be." - -I laughed to relieve her mind--also because it amused me to see through -Nadeshda. - -Of course, one of the women I needed most in this Burke campaign was -Nadeshda. And I happened to know that she is bent on marrying a rich -American--indeed, that's the only reason why the wilds of America are -favored with the presence of the beautiful, joy-loving, courted and -adored Baroness Nadeshda Daragane. The yarn about her sister, the -ambassadress, being an invalid and shrinking from the heavy social -responsibilities of the embassy is just so much trash. So, as soon as -"Cyrus" came I went over to see her, and, as diplomatically as I knew -how, displayed before her dazzled eyes the substantial advantages of -the sole heir of the great Western multi-millionaire. - -As I went on to tell how generous the Senator is, and how certain he -would be to lavish wealth upon his daughter-in-law, I could see her -mind at work. A fascinating, naughty, treacherous little mind it -is--like a small Swiss watch of the rarest workmanship and full of -wheels within wheels. And she's a beautiful little creature, as warm as -a tropical sun to look at, and about as cold as the Arctic regions to -deal with. No, I haven't begun to describe her. I'd not be surprised -to hear that she had eloped with her brother-in-law's coachman; nor -should I be surprised to hear that she had married the most hideous, -revolting man in the world for his money, and was suspected of being -engaged in trying to hasten him off to the grave. She's of the queer -sort that would kiss or kill with equal enthusiasm, capable of almost -any virtue or vice--on impulse. If there's any part of her beneath the -impulsive part it's solid ice in a frame of steel. But--is there? She's -talked about a good deal--not a tenth enough to satisfy her craving -for notoriety, and, I may add, not a tenth part so much as she deserves -to be, and would be if we studied character on this side of the water -instead of being too busy with ourselves to look beyond anybody else's -surface. - -Well, the Baroness Nadeshda has been wild about the Burkes ever since -we had our talk. And she has Mr. Cyrus thoroughly tangled in her nets, -and the Senator, too. And, naturally, she lost no time in trying to -"do" me. She has told Bucyrus what a designing creature I am--no doubt -has warned him that if I seem distant to him I'm at my deadliest, and -to look out for mines. He certainly is looking out for them, for, -whenever I speak to him, he acts as if he were stepping round on a -volcano. I'm having a good deal of fun with him. I wish I had the -time; I'd try to teach him a very valuable lesson. Really, it's a shame -to let a man go through life imagining that he's an all-conqueror, when -in reality the woman who marries him will feel that she's swallowing -about as bitter a dose as Fate ever presented to feminine lips in a -gold spoon. - -Dear old "ma" Burke hasn't yet yielded to Nadeshda's blandishments. We -went to the embassy to call yesterday afternoon at tea-time, and I saw -her watching Nadeshda in that smiling, simple way of hers that conceals -about as keen a brain as I shouldn't care to have tearing me to pieces -for inspection. - -The embassy at tea-time is always wild. For then Sophie comes in with -her monkey and Nadeshda's seven dogs are racing about. And the Count -always laughs loudly, usually at nothing at all. And each time he -laughs the dogs bark until the monkey in a great fright dashes up the -curtains or flings himself at Sophie and almost strangles her with his -paws or arms, or whatever they are, round her neck. I don't think I've -ever been there that something hasn't been spilt for a huge mess; often -the whole tea-table topples over. Mrs. Burke loves to go, for afterward -she laughs a dozen times a day until her sides ache. - -As we came away yesterday I said to her: "What a fascinating, beautiful -creature Nadeshda is!" - -Mrs. Burke smiled. "When I was a girl," she said, "I had a catamount -for a pet--a cub, and they had cut his claws. He was beautiful and -mighty fascinating--you never did know when he was going to fawn on you -and when he was going to fasten his teeth in you. The baroness puts me -in mind of my old pet, and how I didn't know which was harder--to keep -him or to give him up." - -"She certainly has a strange nature," said I. - -After a pause Mrs. Burke went on: "She's the queerest animal in this -menagerie here, so far as I've seen. And I don't think I'm wrong in -suspecting she's sitting up to Cyrus." - -"I don't wonder he finds her interesting," said I. - -"Cyrus is just like his pa," said she, "a mighty poor judge of women. -It was lucky for his pa that he married and settled down before he had -much glitter to catch the eyes of the women. Otherwise, he'd 'a' made a -ridiculous fool of himself. But I like a man the women can fool easy. -That shows he's honest. These fellows who are so sharp at getting on to -the tricks of the women ain't, as a rule, good for much else. But Cyrus -has got _me_ to look after him." - -"He might do much worse than marry Nadeshda," said I. - -"That's what his pa says," she replied. "But I ain't got round to these -new-fashioned notions of marriage. I want to see my Cyrus married to -the sort of woman his ma'd like and be proud to have for the mother of -her grand-children. And I ain't altogether sure we need the kind of -tone in our blood that a catamount'd bring. Though I must say a year or -so of living with a catamount might do Cyrus a world of good." - -Which shows that even love can't altogether blind "ma" Burke. - -January 3. I had to do a little scheming to get Mrs. Burke an -invitation to assist at the New Year's reception. It's always the first -event of the season, and, though it would have been no great matter -if I hadn't been able to get her in among those who stand near the -President's wife and the Cabinet women, still I felt that I couldn't -get my "pulls" into working order any too soon. Ever since the second -week in my "job" I've realized that nothing could be easier than to put -the Burkes well to the front, but my ambition to make them first calls -for the exertion of every energy. - -So, in the third week of December I set Rachel at Mrs. Senator Lumley -and Mrs. Admiral Bixby--two women who can get almost anything in reason -out of the President's wife. Rachel is about the most important woman -in the old Washington aristocracy, and the Lumleys and the Bixbys are -in the nature of fixtures here, not at all like an evanescent President -or Cabinet person. So Rachel's request set the two women to work. And -although the President's wife said she'd asked all she intended to ask, -far too many, and didn't see why on earth she should be beset for a -newcomer who had been reported to her as fat and impossible, still she -finally yielded. - -I hadn't hoped to get an invitation for them for the Cabinet dinner, -and I was astounded when it came. We had arranged to give a rather -large informal dinner that night and had to call it off, as an -invitation from the White House, even from the obscurest member of the -President's family for any old function whatever, is a command that -may not be disobeyed. Well, as I was saying, the invitation to the -Cabinet dinner came unsought. It seems that the Burke breakfasts are -making a great stir politically; so great a stir that they have made -the President a little uneasy. Of course, the best way to get rid of an -opponent is to conciliate him. Hence the royal command to Senator and -Mrs. Burke to appear at his Majesty's dinner to his Majesty's ministers. - -Mrs. Burke is tremendously proud of her first two communications from -the White House. As for the Senator, he looks at them half a dozen -times a day. - -I went down to the New Year's reception to see how "ma" was getting on. -As I had expected, she didn't stand very long. She cast about for a -chair, and, seeing one, planted herself. Soon the Baroness joined her, -and young Prince Krepousky joined Nadeshda, and then General Martin, -who loves Mrs. Burke for the feeds she gives. The group grew, and -Mrs. Burke began to talk in her drawling, humorous way, and Nadeshda -laughed, which made the others laugh--for it's impossible to resist -Nadeshda. When I arrived Mrs. Burke was "right in it." - -And after a while the President came and said: "Is this your reception, -madam, or is it mine?" At which there was more laughing, he raising a -great guffaw and slapping his hip with his powerful hand. Then they all -went up to have something to eat, and the President spent most of the -time with her. - -She doesn't need any more coaching. Of course, she's flattered by her -success. But instead of having her head turned, as most women do who -get the least bit of especial attention from the conspicuous men here, -she takes it all very placidly. "They don't care shucks for me," she -says, "and I know it. We're all in business together, and I'm mighty -glad it can be carried on so cheerful-like." At the Cabinet dinner, -to-morrow night, she'll have to sit well down toward the foot of the -table. But she won't mind that. Indeed, if I hadn't been giving her -lessons in precedence she wouldn't have an idea that everything here is -arranged by rank. - -Jessie--so she tells me--had a half-hour's session with "Cyrus" the -other day and gave him a very exalted idea of my social position and -influence. No doubt, what she said confirmed his suspicion that I and -my friends are conspiring against him; but I observe a distinct change -in his manner toward me. He's even humble. I suppose he thought I -was some miserable creature whom his mother had taken on, half out -of charity. I'm afraid I have a sort of family pride that's a little -ridiculous--but I can't help it. Still, I am American enough to despise -people who are courteous or otherwise, according as they look up to or -look down on the particular person's family and position. I guess young -Mr. Burke is his father in an aggravated form. Yet Jessie, and Rachel, -too, pretend to like him. And probably they really do--it's not hard -to like any one who is not asking favors and is in a position to grant -them, and isn't so near to one that his quills stick into one. - -The Countess of Wend came in to see me this afternoon and told me all -about the row over at the legation. It seems that the new minister is -a plebeian, and in their country people of his sort aren't noticed by -the upper classes unless an upper-class man happens to need something -to wipe his boots on and one of them is convenient for use. Well, every -attaché is in a fury, and none of them will speak to the minister -except in the most formal way and only when it's absolutely necessary. -As for the minister's wife, the other women--but what's the use of -describing it; we all know how nasty women can be about matters of -rank. The Count is talking seriously of resigning. I'd be dreadfully -sorry, as Eugenie is a dear, more like an American than a foreigner; -and I believe she really likes us, where most of them privately despise -us as a lot of low-born upstarts. I know they laugh all day long at the -President's queer manners and mannerisms--but then, so do we, for that -matter. And it's quite unusual for Washington, where each President is -bowed down to and praised everywhere and flattered till he thinks he's -a sort of god--and forgotten as soon as his term is ended. I suppose -there's nothing deader on this earth than an ex-President, with no -offices to distribute and no hopes for a further political career. - -January 9. We had a beautiful dinner here last night--very brilliant -too, as we all were going to a ball at the Russian embassy afterward. -All the diplomats and army men were in uniform--and one or two of the -army men were really brilliant. But none of the diplomats. They say -that no nation sends us its best or even its second best. It seems -that diplomats don't amount to much in this day of cables. Those who -have any intelligence naturally go to courts, where the atmosphere is -congenial and where there are chances for decorations. So we get only -the stiffs and stuffs--with a few exceptions. If it weren't for their -women-- - -But, to return to our dinner--Mrs. Burke went in with the German -ambassador, and I saw that they were getting on famously. He is a very -clever man in a small way, and has almost an American sense of humor. -As soon as he saw that she intended what she said to be laughed at he -gave himself up to it. "Your Mrs. Burke is charming, Miss Talltowers," -said he to me after dinner. "She ranks with Bret Harte and Mark Twain. -It's only in America that you find old women who make you forget to -wish you were with young and pretty women." - -Jim Lafollette took me in--the first time I've had him here. I must -say he behaved very well and was the handsomest man in the room. But -he never has much to say that is worth hearing. Though conversation at -Washington in society isn't on any too high a plane, as a rule--how -could conversation in a mixed society anywhere be very high?--still it -isn't the wishy-washy chatter and gossip that Jim Lafollette delights -in. Of course, army officers almost always go in for gossip--that comes -from sitting round with their women at lonely posts where nothing -occurs. And they, as a rule, either gossip or simply drivel when they -talk to women, because all the women that ever liked them liked them -for their brass buttons, and all the women they ever liked they liked -for their pretty faces and empty heads. So, usually, to get an army -officer at dinner is to sit with a bowl of soft taffy held to your -lips and a huge spoonful of it thrust into your mouth every time you -stop talking. That's true of many of the statesmen, too, especially the -heavyweights. I suppose I'm wrong, but I can't help suspecting a man -without a sense of humor of being a solemn fraud. - -You'd think American women, at the capital, at least, would be -interested in politics. But they're not. They say it's the vulgarity -of the intriguing and of most of the best intriguers that makes them -dislike politics, even here. I suspect there's another reason. We women -are so petted by the men that we don't have to know anything to make -ourselves agreeable. If we're pretty and listen well that's all that's -necessary. So, why get headaches learning things? - -Of course, there are exceptions. Take Maggie Shotwell. Her husband -is a wag-eared ass. Yet in eleven years she has advanced him from -second secretary to minister to a second-class power just by showing -up here at intervals and playing the game intelligently. And there are -scores of army women who do as well in a smaller way, and a few of the -diplomats' wives are most adroit, intriguing well both here and at -their homes in a nice, clean way, as intrigue goes. - -But most of the women are like "ma" Burke, who'd as soon think of -entering for a foot-race as of interfering in her husband's political -affairs in any way, beyond giving him some sound advice about the -men that can be trusted and the men that can't. I suppose if there -were real careers in public life in this country, not dependent upon -elections, the Washington women wouldn't be so lazy and indifferent, -but would wake up and intrigue their brothers and sons and other male -relatives into all sorts of things. Then, too, a man has to vote with -his "party" on everything that's important, and his "party" is a small -group of old men who are beyond social blandishments and go to bed -early every night and associate only with men in the daytime. - -No, we women don't amount to much _directly_ at Washington. If Jim -Lafollette had kept away from the women and society he might have -amounted to something. It's become a proverb that whenever a young man -comes here and goes in for the social end of it he is doomed soon to -disappear and be heard of no more. The President is trying to make -society amount to something, but he won't succeed. Whatever benefit -there may be in it will go, not to him, but to men like Senator Burke. -He doesn't go any more than he can help, except to his own breakfasts. -But he sends his wife, and so, without wasting any of his time, he -makes himself prominent in a very short space of time and gets all the -big social indirect influence--the influence of the women on their -husbands. - -Mrs. Burke's younger brother, Robert Gunton, arrived last night. He -reminds me of her, but he's slender and very active--a shabby sort of -person, clean but careless, and he looks as if he had so many other -things to think about that he hadn't time to think about himself. He -looks younger and talks older than his years. He's here to get some -sort of patent through; he won't permit his brother-in-law to assist -him; he refuses to go anywhere--in society, I mean. We rode up to the -Capitol together in a street-car this morning, and I liked him. - -"Why do you ride in a street-car?" he asked. - -"Because it's not considered good form to use carriages too much," I -replied. "It might rouse the envy of those who can't afford carriages." - -"Then it isn't because you don't want to, but because you don't dare -to?" - -"Yes," said I. "But things are changing rapidly. The rich people who -live here but care nothing for politics are gradually introducing class -distinctions." - -"You mean, poor people who like to fawn upon and hate the rich are -introducing class distinctions," he corrected. - -He is thirty-two years old; he treats a woman as if she were a man, -and he treats a man as if he himself were one. It isn't possible not to -like that sort of human being. - -Invitations are beginning to come in floods--invitations for the big, -formal things for which people are asked weeks in advance. And we are -getting a splendid percentage of acceptances for our big affairs, -thanks to my taking the trouble to find out the freest dates in the -season. If all goes well, before another month, as soon as it gets -round that we are going to give something big in a short time, lots of -pretty good people will be holding off from accepting other things in -the hope that they're on our list. - -Certainly, there's a good deal in going about anything in a systematic -way--even a social launching. - - - - -IV - - -January 12. We are all sleeping so badly. Even the Senator, whom -nothing has ever before kept from his "proper rest," is complaining -of wakefulness. Suppers every night either here or elsewhere, the -house never quiet until two or three in the morning, all of us up at -eight--Cyrus often at seven because he rides a good deal, and the early -morning is the only time when any one in Washington in the season -can find time to ride. "It's worse than the Wilderness campaign," -said Mr. Burke, who was a lieutenant in the war. "For now and then, -between battles and skirmishes, we did get plenty of sleep. This is -a continuous battle day and night, week in and week out, with no -let-up for Sundays." And Mrs. Burke--poor "ma!" How hollow-eyed and -sagged-cheeked she is getting with the real season less than two weeks -old! She says: "I wouldn't treat a dog as I treat myself. I no sooner -get to sleep than they wake me. I think the servants just delight to -wake me, and I don't blame them, for they're worse off than we are, -though I do try to be as easy on them as possible." She doesn't know -how many long naps they take while she's dragging herself from place to -place. - -On our way to the White House to a musicale she fell asleep. As we -rolled up to the entrance I had to wake her. She came to with a sort -of groan and gave a ludicrously pitiful glance at the attendant who was -impatiently waiting. "Oh, Lord!" she muttered. "I was dreaming I was in -bed, and it ain't so. Instead, I've got to enjoy myself." And then she -gave a dreary laugh. - -"Ma" Burke dozed through the musicale with a pleasant smile on her -large face and her head keeping time to the music. When we spoke to the -President and he said he hoped she'd "enjoyed herself," she drawled: -"I did that, Mr. President! I only wish it had been longer--I'm 'way -behind on sleep." He laughed uproariously. It's the fashion to laugh -at everything "ma" says now, because the German ambassador tells every -one what a wit she is. And who'd fail to laugh at wit admired by an -ambassador? - -Writing about sleep has driven off my fit of wakefulness. I'll only -add that Lu Frayne's in town, working day and night to get her husband -transferred from San Francisco to the War Department here. I think -she'll win out, as she's got two Senators who've been frightening -the President by acting queerly lately. It's too funny! When the new -Administration came every one was scared because the rumor got round -that he was going to give us a repetition of the Cleveland nightmare. -But there was nothing in it; the only "pulls" that have failed to -work are those that were strong with the last Administration, and -there's a whole crop of new pulls. Well, at least, the right sort of -people, those who have family and position, are getting their rights to -preference as they never did before. We've not had many Presidents who -knew the right sort of people even when they've been willing to please -them, if they could pick them out. - -What a changed Washington it is: so many formalities; so many rich -people; so many rich men, and men of family and position in office; -so many big, fine houses and English and French servants. "Such a -stylishness!" - -January 14. Our first big dance last night--I mean, formal dance to -show our strength. Everybody was here, and the dinner beforehand and -the supper afterward and all the mechanical arrangements, so to speak, -were perfect. The ball-room was a sight--even "ma" Burke, tired to -death, perked up. Almost all the diplomats, except those nobody asks, -were here. And I don't think more than thirty people we hadn't invited -ventured to come. We were all so excited that, after the last people -had gone, we sat round for nearly an hour. "Ma" Burke took me in her -arms and kissed me. "It was your ball," said she. "But then, everything -we get credit for is all yours; ain't it, pa?" - -"Miss Talltowers has certainly done wonderfully," said "pa" in his -cautious, judicial way. Then he seemed ashamed of himself, as if he had -been ungenerous, and shook hands with me and added: "Thank you, thank -you, Miss Augusta--if you'll permit me the liberty of calling you so." - -"I never expected to see as pretty a girl as you bothering to have -brains," Mrs. Burke went on to say. And for the first time in weeks and -weeks it occurred to me that I did have a personal existence apart from -my work--the books and bookkeeping, the servants and the housekeeper, -who is only one more to fuss with, the tradespeople, and musicians, and -singers, and florists, and--it makes my head whirl to try to recall the -awful list. - -"She won't be pretty very long," said Cyrus--he's taking lessons of his -mother and is dropping his fancy-work speech and his "made-in-Germany" -manners--"if she don't stop working day _and_ night." - -"Oh, I'm amusing myself," replied I; but I was reminded how weary I -felt, and went away to bed. I neglected to close my sitting-room door, -and as I was getting ready for bed in my dressing-room I couldn't help -overhearing a scrap of talk between Cyrus and Mr. Gunton as they went -along the hall on the way to their apartments. - -"The Tevises were disgusting--they showed their envy so plainly," Cyrus -said. The Tevises are trying hard to do what we're doing in a social -way, and though they must have even more money than the Burkes, they're -failing at it. - -"They'll never get anywhere," Mr. Gunton replied. "You can't collect -much of a crowd of nice people just to watch you spend money. You've -got to give them a real show. There's where Miss Talltowers comes in." - -"She has wonderful taste and originality," said Cyrus. Cyrus! - -Mr. Gunton sat out most of the evening with Nadeshda. I suppose -she was trying to make Cyrus jealous and also to create trouble -between him and his uncle. I've not seen a franker flirtation even -in Washington. Whenever I chanced to look at them, Mr. Gunton was -talking earnestly, and she seemed to be hanging to his words like a -thirsty bird to a water-pan. And her queer, subtle face was--well, -it was beautiful, and gave me that sense of the wild and fierce and -uncanny which makes her both fascinating and terrible. I think Mr. -Gunton was infatuated--indeed, I know it. For when I spoke of her to -him this morning his eyes seemed to blaze. He drew a long breath. "A -wonder-woman!" he said. "I never saw anything like her--in the flesh." -Then he looked a little sheepish, and added: "I mean it, but I laugh -at myself, too. There are fools that don't know they're fools; then, -there are fools that do know it and laugh at themselves as they plan -fresh follies--it takes a pretty clever man, Miss Talltowers, to make -a grand, supreme, rip-roaring ass of himself, doesn't it? At least, -I hope so." And with that somewhat mysterious observation he left me -abruptly. - -When I saw him and Nadeshda together so much at the ball I looked out -for Cyrus. He seemed bored, and devoted himself to wallflowers, but on -the whole was surprisingly unconcerned, apparently. I had him in sight -almost the whole evening. Jim Lafollette, who stuck to my train like a -Japanese poodle--I told him so, but he didn't take the hint--said that -"the gawk," meaning Cyrus, was hanging round me. "He's moon-struck," -said Jim. "So your little put-up job with Jessie seems to be doing -nicely, thank you." I wonder why a man assumes that the fact that he -loves a woman gives him the right to insult her and makes it his duty -to do it. And I wonder why we women assent to that sort of impudence. -There's another conventionality that ought to be stamped out. - -I find I was hasty in my judgment of Cyrus. He's a lot more of a man -than he led me to suppose at first. I think he might be licked into -shape. He ought to hunt up some widow or married woman older than -himself and go to school for a few seasons. But perhaps Nadeshda will -do as well. - -January 17. There were thirty-two at Senator Burke's "little informal -breakfast" yesterday morning, including four of the leading Senators, -two members of the Cabinet, an ambassador and three ministers, several -generals, half a dozen distinguished strangers, four or five big -financial men from New York who are here on "private business" with -Congress, and not a man who doesn't count for something except that -wretched little Framstern, who never misses anything free. And our -regular weekly informal dance was an equal success in its way. Senator -Ritchie told me it was amazing how Burke had forged to the front in -influence and in popularity. "And now that the newspapers have begun to -take him up he'll soon be standing out before the whole country." So -my little suggestion about the wives and families of correspondents of -the big papers, which the Burkes adopted, is bearing fruit. And Mrs. -Burke is so genuinely friendly and hospitable that really I've only to -suggest her being nice to somebody to set her to work. If she were the -least bit of a fraud I'd not dare--she'd only get into trouble. - -January 18. I was breakfasting alone in my sitting-room this morning--I -always do an hour or so of work before I touch anything to eat--when -Mr. Gunton sent, asking if he might join me. I was glad to have him. -His direct way is attractive, and he never talks without saying at -least a few things I haven't heard time and again. He was in riding -clothes, and as soon as I looked at him I saw he had something on his -mind. - -"Good ride?" I asked. - -He made an impatient gesture--whenever he has anything to say and -doesn't know how to begin, the way to start him off is to make some -commonplace remark. It acts like a blow that knocks in the head of a -full barrel. "I was out with the Baroness Daragane," he said, "with -Nadeshda." - -"And Cyrus?" said I. - -He looked at me in astonishment, then laughed queerly. "Oh, bother!" -he exclaimed. "Cyrus doesn't disturb himself about _her_, or she about -him--and you know it. Miss Talltowers, I love her--and she loves me." - -His tone was convincing. But, after the first shock, I couldn't believe -anything so preposterous. And I felt sorry for him--an honest, straight -man, inexperienced with women, a fine mixture of gentleness and -roughness, at once too much and too little of a gentleman for Nadeshda. -If I had dared I should have tried to undeceive him. But I'm not so -stupid as ever to try to make a person in love see the truth about -the person he or she's in love with. So I simply said: "She is a most -fascinating woman." - -[Illustration] - -"You think I'm a fool," he went on, as if I hadn't spoken, "and I am -a--a blankety-blank fool. Did you see her night before last in that -dress of silver spangles like the wonderful skin of some amazing -serpent? Did you see her eyes--her hair--the way her arms looked--as if -they could wind themselves round a man's neck and choke him to death -while her eyes were fooling him into thinking that such a death was -greater happiness than to live?" He rolled this all out, then burst -into a queer, crazy laugh. "You see, I'm a lunatic!" he said. - -"Yes, I see it," I replied cheerfully. "But why do you rave to me?" - -"Because I--we--have got to tell somebody, and you're the only person -in Washington that I know that's both sensible and experienced, wise -enough to understand, beautiful enough to sympathize, and young enough -to encourage." - -That was rather good for a man who had had less than a month's real -experience with women, wasn't it? I recognized Nadeshda's handiwork, -and admired. - -"Miss Talltowers," he went on, "I am going to make a fool of myself, -and she's going to help me." - -"In what particular sort of folly are you about to embark?" said I. - -"We're going to marry," he replied. "We've _got_ to marry. I'm afraid -of her and she's afraid of me, and we'll either have Heaven or the -other place when we do marry--perhaps big doses of each alternately. -But we've got to do it." - -"You know it's impossible," said I. "Under the laws of her country -she mayn't marry without the consent of her parents. And they'd never -consent." - -"Certainly they won't," said he, "unless you can suggest some way of -getting the ambassador and his wife round. We want to give her people a -chance." This with perfect coolness. I began to believe that there must -be something in it. - -"Does Nadeshda know you aren't rich?" I asked. - -"She knows I have practically nothing. In fact I told her I had less -than I have." - -"And you're sure she wishes to marry you?" - -"Ask her." - -He was quiet a while, then raved about her for ten minutes, begged me -to do my best thinking, and left me. I felt dazed. I simply couldn't -believe it. And the longer I thought, the more certain I was that -she was making some sort of grand play in coquetry, which seemed -ridiculous enough when I considered what small game Mr. Gunton is from -the standpoint of a woman like Nadeshda. - -In the afternoon I was in a flower store in Pennsylvania Avenue, and -Nadeshda joined me. Her surface was, if anything, cooler and subtler -and more cynical than usual. "Send away your cab," said she, "and let -me take you in my auto--wherever you wish." - -As I was full of curiosity, I accepted instantly. When we were under -way she gave me a strange smile--a slow parting of the lips, a slow -half-closing and elongation of those Eastern eyes which she inherits -from a Russian grandmother, I believe. - -"Well, Gus," she said, "has that wild man told you?" - -"Yes, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said I, a little -indignantly. "It ain't fair to coax an innocent into _your_ sort of -game and fleece him of his little all." - -She laughed--beautiful white teeth, cruel like her red lips. "It's all -true--all he told you," she replied. "All true, on my honor." - -Every season Washington's strange mixture of classes and conditions and -nations furnishes at least one sensation of some kind or other. But, -used as I am to surprises until they have ceased to surprise, this took -me quite aback. "Do you love him, Nadeshda--really?" - -She quite closed her eyes and said in a strange, slow undertone: -"He's my master. The blood in my veins flowed straight from the -savage wilderness. And he comes from there, and I don't dare disobey -him. I'd do anything he said. And when we're married I'll never -glance at another man--if he saw me he'd kill me. Ah, you don't -understand--you're too--too civilized. Now, I think I should love him -better if he'd beat me." - -I laughed--it was too ridiculous, especially as she was plainly in -earnest. She laughed, too, and added: "I think some day I'll try -to make him do it. He's afraid of me, too. And he may well be, for -I--well, he belongs to _me_, you see, and I _will_ have what's mine!" - -Yes, she would--I believe her absolutely. And I must say I like her at -last, for all her extremely uncanny way of loving and of liking to be -loved. I suppose she's only a primeval woman--I believe the primeval -woman fancied the lover who lay in wait and brought her down with a -club. I begin to understand Robert Gunton, too--that is, the side of -his nature she's roused. - -"Do you believe us?" she asked. - -"Yes, I do," said I, "and I apologize to you. I've been thinking of you -all along as--fascinating, of course, but--mercenary." - -"Ah, but so I am!" she exclaimed. "It breaks my heart to marry this -poor man--and of such a vulgar family--even among you funny Americans. -But"--she threw up her arms and her shoulders and let them drop in a -gesture of tragicomic helplessness--"I must have him; I must be his -slave." - -I can't imagine how it's going to end, as her people will never let -her marry him. Possibly, if "ma" Burke were to persuade the Senator -to settle a large sum on her--but that's wild, even if Gunton would -consent. I can imagine what a roar he'd give if such a thing were -proposed. He'll insist on having her on his own terms. As if his -insisting would do any good! - -The last thing she said to me was: "Do you know when we became engaged? -Listen! It was the first time we met--after three hours. After one hour -he made me insult the men who came up to claim dances. After two hours -he made me say, 'I love you.' After three hours--it was on the way down -to my carriage--he asked me to come into the little reception-room by -the entrance. And he closed the door and caught me in his arms and -kissed me. 'That makes you my wife,' he said in a _dreadful_ voice--oh, -it was--_magnifique!_--and he said, 'Do you understand?' And"--she -smiled ravishingly and nodded her head--"I understood." - -I shan't sleep a wink to-night. - -January 20. I wish they hadn't told me. If ever a man loves me and -wants to win me he must be--well, perhaps not exactly _that_, but -certainly not tame. I'm not a bit like Nadeshda, but I do hate the tame -sort. I know what's the matter with me now. Yes, I wish they hadn't -told me. - -January 21. Robert and Nadeshda have told "ma" Burke. She -is--_delighted_! "I never heard of the like," she said to me all in -a quiver. "I wish I'd known there were such things. I reckon I'd 'a' -made my Tom cut a few capers before he got _me_." And then she laughed -until she cried. It certainly was droll to picture "pa" capering in the -Robert-Nadeshda fashion. - -She went to the embassy and told Nadeshda's sister, Madame -l'Ambassadrice. "She let on as if she was just tickled to death," she -reported to me a few minutes after she returned. "And when I told her -that we--Tom and I--would do handsomely by Nadeshda as soon as they -were married she had tears in her eyes. But I don't trust her--nor any -other foreigner." - -"Not even Nadeshda?" - -"Ma" nodded knowingly. "I reckon Bob'll keep her on the chalk," she -replied. "He's started right, and in marriage, as in everything else, -it's all in the start." - -January 22. Nadeshda asked Mrs. Burke to give a big costume ball, but -I sat on it hard. "I don't think you want to do that, Mrs. Burke," -said I, when she proposed it to me. "If this were New York it wouldn't -matter so much, though I don't think really nice people with means do -that sort of thing there. Here I'm afraid it'd make you very unpopular." - -"Do you think so?" said she. "Now, I'd 'a' said it was just the sort of -foolishness these people'd like." - -"Those who have money would," I replied. "But how about those who -haven't? Don't you think that people of large means ought to make it a -rule never to cause any expense whatever to those of their friends and -acquaintances who haven't means?" - -"Don't say another word!" she exclaimed, seeing my point instantly. -"Why, it'd be the worst thing in the world. Out home I've always been -careful about those kind of things, but on here I don't know the people -and am liable to forget how they're circumstanced. They all seem -so prosperous on the surface. I reckon there's a lot of miserable -pinching and squinching when the blinds are down." - -Cyrus happened to come in just then, and she told him all about -it. He looked at me and grew red and evidently tried to say -something--probably something that would have shown how poorly he -thought of my cheating them all out of the fun. But he restrained -himself and said nothing. - -Presently he went out and must have gone straight to his -father--probably to remonstrate, though I may wrong him--for, after a -few minutes, the Senator came. - -"My son has just been telling me," he said to me, "and I agree with -you entirely. It would be ruinous politically. As it is, if it hadn't -been for you we'd never have been able to keep both the official and -the fashionable sets in a good humor with us." I never saw him so -"flustered" before. - -"What are you talking about, pa?" inquired Mrs. Burke. - -"About the costume ball you were thinking of giving." - -Mrs. Burke smiled. "You'd better go back to your cage," said she. -"That's settled and done for long ago." - -"Pa" looked more uneasy than his good-natured tone seemed to -justify--but, no doubt, he knows when he has put his foot into it. He -"faded" from the room. When she heard his study door close "ma" said to -me in a complacent voice: "There's nothing like keeping a man always to -his side of the fence. When 'pa' began to get rich I saw trouble ahead, -for he was showing signs that he was thinking himself right smart -better than the common run, and that he was including his wife in the -common run. I took Mr. Smartie Burke right in hand. And so, with him -it's never been 'I' in this family, but 'we.' And keeping it that way -has made Tom lots happier than he would 'a' been lording it over me and -having no control on his foolishness anywhere." - -What a dear, sensible woman she is! He's got good brains, but if he had -as good brains as she has he'd get what he's after and doesn't stand a -show for. - -January 24. The whole town is in a tumult over Robert and Nadeshda. -People think she's crazy. When Cyrus said this to me I said: "And I -think they are--at least, delirious." - -"A divine delirium, though," he replied, much to my astonishment. For -he's never shown before that he had so much as a spot of that sort of -thing in him. But then, I'm beginning to revise my judgment of him in -some ways. He is much nearer what his mother said he was than what I -thought him. But he's young and crude. I find that he likes--and really -appreciates--the same composers and poets and novelists that I do. I -can forgive much to any one who realizes what a poet Browning was--when -he did write poetry, not when he wrote the stuff for the Browning clubs -to fuddle with. - -Nadeshda is in the depths--except when Robert is by to hypnotize -her. "I was so strong," she said pathetically to me to-day, "or I -thought I was. And now I'm all weakness." She went on to tell me -how horribly they are talking to her at the embassy--for they are -determined she shan't marry "that nobody with nothing." I always knew -her brother-in-law was a snob of the cheapest and narrowest kind--the -well-born, well-bred kind. But I had no idea he was a coward. He -threatens to have the Emperor make her come home and go into a convent -if she doesn't break off the engagement within a week. - -We are tremendously popular. Everybody is cultivating us, hoping -to find out the real inside of this incredible engagement. And the -ambassador has to pretend publicly that he's personally wild with -delight and hopes Nadeshda's parents will consent. He knows how -unpopular it would make him and his country with America if his -opposition and his reason for it were to be known. - -January 30. Nadeshda has disappeared. They give out at the embassy that -she has left for home to consult with her parents. Robert looks like -a man who had gone stark mad and was fighting to keep himself from -showing it. - -We were all at the ball at the French embassy, Mr. and Mrs. Burke -dining there. I dined at the White House--a literary affair. The -conversation was what you might expect when a lot of people get -together to show one another how brilliant they are. The President -talked a great deal. He has very positive opinions on literature in all -its branches. I was the only person at the table who wasn't familiar -with his books. Fortunately, I wasn't cornered. Cyrus came to the ball -from Mrs. Dorringer's, where he took in the Duchess d'Emarre. "She has -a beautiful face in repose," he said to me as he paused for a moment, -"and it's not at all pretty when she talks. So she listened well." - -I was too tired to dance, as were the others. We went home together, -all depressed. "It's too ridiculous, this kind of life," said "ma" -Burke, "and the most ridiculous part of it is that, now we're hauled -into it and set a-going, we'll never get out and be sensible again. It -just shows you can get used to anything in this world--except doing as -you please. I don't believe anybody was ever satisfied to do that. Did -you ever wear a Mother Hubbard? _There's_ comfort!" - -I can think of nothing but Robert and Nadeshda. Have they some sort of -understanding? No--I'm afraid not. - -I forgot to put down that Robert made the Senator go to the Secretary -of State about Nadeshda's disappearance. The Secretary was sympathetic, -but he refused to interfere in any way. What else could he do? - - - - -V - - -February 1. Last night Robert started for Europe. He is going to see -Nadeshda's father and mother. I begin to suspect that Nadeshda has -really gone abroad and that she has let him know. He is certainly in -a very different frame of mind from what he was at first. But he says -nothing, hints nothing. Rachel, who has a huge sentimental streak in -her, has given Robert a letter to her sister Ellen--she's married to -one of the biggest nobles in the empire, Prince Glückstein. Also, she -has written Ellen a long, long letter, telling her all about Robert, -and what a great catch he is. And he _is_ a great catch now, for -Senator Burke has organized a company to take over his patents and pay -him a big sum for them--it'll sound fabulously big to such people as -the Daraganes. For even where these foreigners are very rich and have -miles on miles of land and large incomes from it, they're not used to -the kind of fortunes we have--the sums in cash, or in property that's -easily sold. And the Daraganes have only rank; their estates are quite -insignificant, Von Slovatsky says. - -"They might as well consent first as last," said Mrs. Burke to me just -after Robert left; "for Bob always gets what he wants. He never lets -go. Cyrus is the same way--he spent eleven months in the mountains -once, and like to 'a' starved and froze and died of fever, just because -he'd made up his mind not to come back without a grizzly. That's why -the President took to him." - -And then she told me that it was Cyrus who thought out the scheme -for making Robert financially eligible and put it in such form that -Robert consented. That convicted me of injustice again, for I had been -suspecting him of being secretly pleased at Robert's set-back--he -certainly hasn't looked in the least sorry for him. But it may be that -Robert has told him more than he's told us. He certainly couldn't have -found a closer-mouthed person. As his mother says, "The grave's a -blabmouth beside him when it comes to keeping secrets. And most men are -_such_ gossips." - -Mrs. Fortescue came in to tea this afternoon. Mrs. Burke was out -calling, and I received her--or, rather, she caught me, for I detest -her. Just as she was going Cyrus popped in, and she nailed him before -he could pop out. She thought it was a good chance to put in a few -strong strokes for her daughter. "Of course, it's very pretty and -romantic about Nadeshda," she said, "and in this case I'm sure no one -with a spark of heart could object. Still, the principle is bad. I -don't think young girls who are properly brought up are so impulsive -and imprudent. I often say to my husband that I think it's perfectly -frightful the way girls--young girls--go about in Washington. They're -out before they should be even thinking of leaving the nursery, and go -round practically unchaperoned. It's so demoralizing." - -"But how are they to compete with the young married women if they -don't?" said Cyrus, because he was evidently expected to say something. - -"I don't think a man--a _sensible_ man--looking for a wife for his home -and a mother for his children would want a girl who'd been 'competing' -in Washington society," she answered. "I don't at all approve the way -American girls are brought up, anyway--it's entirely too free and -destructive of the innocence that is a woman's chief charm. And as for -turning the young girls loose in Washington!" Mrs. Fortescue threw -up her hands. "It's simply madness. Most of the men are foreigners, -accustomed to meet only married women in society. They don't know how -to take a young girl, and they don't understand this American freedom. -The wonder to me is that we don't have a regular cataclysm every -season. Now, I never permit Mildred to go _anywhere_ without me or -some other _real_ chaperon. And I know that her mind is like a fresh -rose-leaf." - -Cyrus and I exchanged a covert glance of amusement. Mildred Fortescue -is a very nice, sweet girl, but--well, she does fool her mother -scandalously. - -"I should think a man would positively be _afraid_ to marry the -ordinary Washington society girl who knows everything that she -shouldn't and nothing that she should." - -"Perhaps that's what makes them so irresistible," said Cyrus. - -"Irresistible to flirt with and to _flaner_ about with," said Mrs. -Fortescue reproachfully. "But I'm sure you wouldn't marry one of them, -Mr. Burke." - -"Oh, I don't know," he answered. "No doubt it does spoil a good -many, being so free and associating with experienced men who've been -brought up in a very different way. But"--he hesitated and blushed -uncomfortably--"it seems to me that those who do come through all right -are about the best anywhere. If a girl has any really bad qualities -anywhere in her they come out here. And if a Washington girl does marry -a man--for himself--and I rather think they make marriages of the heart -more than most girls in the same sort of society in other cities--don't -you, Miss Talltowers?" - -"It may be so," I replied. "But probably they're much like girls--and -men--everywhere. They make marriages of the heart if they get the -chance. And if nobody happens along in the marrying mood who is able -to appeal to their hearts, they select the most eligible among the -agreeable ones they can get. I think many a girl has been branded as -mercenary when in reality the rich man she chose was neither more nor -less agreeable than the poor man she rejected, and she only had choice -among men she didn't especially care about." - -Mrs. Fortescue looked disgusted. Cyrus showed that he agreed with me. -"What I was going to say," he went on, "was, that if a Washington girl -does choose a man, after she has known lots of men and has come to -prefer him, she's not likely--at least, not _so_ likely--to repent her -bargain. And," he said, getting quite warmed up by his subject, "if a -man looks forward to his wife's going about in society, as he must if -he lives in a certain way, I think he's wise to select some one who has -learned something of the world--how to conduct herself, how to control -herself, how to fill the rôle Fate has assigned her." - -"Oh, of course, a girl should be well-bred," said Mrs. Fortescue, as -sourly as her sort of woman can speak to a bachelor with prospects. - -Cyrus said no more, and soon she was off. He stood at the window -watching her carriage drive away. He turned abruptly--I was at the -little desk, writing a note. - -"You can't imagine," he said with quick energy, "how I loathe the -average girl brought up in conventional, exclusive society in America." - -"Really?" said I, not stopping my writing--though I don't mind -confessing that I was more interested in his views than I cared to let -him see. - -"Yes, really," he replied ironically. Then he went on in his former -tone: "Poor things, they can't help having silly mothers with the idea -of aping the European upper classes, and with hardly a notion of those -upper classes beyond--well, such notions as are got in novels written -by snobs for snobs. And these unfortunate girls are afraid of a genuine -emotion--by Jove, I doubt if they even have the germs of genuine -emotion. All that sort of thing has been weeded out of them. Little dry -minds, little dry hearts--so 'proper,' so--vulgar!" - -"Not in Washington," said I. - -"No, not so many in Washington; though more and more all the time. Miss -Talltowers, will you marry me?" - -It was just like that--no warning, not a touch of sentiment toward me. -I almost dropped my pen. But I managed to hide myself pretty well. -I simply went on with my note, finished it, sealed and addressed it, -and rang for a servant. Then I went and stood by the fire. The servant -came; I gave him the note and went into my office. I had been in there -perhaps ten minutes when he came, looking shy and sheepish. He stumbled -over a low chair and had a ridiculous time saving himself from falling. -When he finally had himself straightened up and shaken together he -stood with his hands behind him, and his face red, and his eyes down, -and with his mouth fixed in that foolish little way as if he were about -to speak with his fancy-work way of handling his words. - -"Do you wish something?" I asked. - -"Only--only my answer," said he humbly. - -Would you believe it, I actually hesitated. - -"I want a woman that doesn't like me for my money, and that at the -same time would know how to act and would be--be sensible. I've had -you in mind ever since you explained your system for--for"--he smiled -faintly--"exploiting mother and father. And mother has been talking in -the same way of late. She says we can't afford to let you get out of -the family. That's all, I guess--all you'd have patience to hear." - -"Then you were making me a serious business proposition?" said I. - -"Well, you might call it that," he admitted, as if he weren't -altogether satisfied with my way of summing it up. - -"I'm much obliged, but it doesn't attract me," I said. - -He gave a kind of hopeless gesture. "I've put it all wrong," said he. -"I always _say_ things wrong. But--I--I believe I _do_ things better." -And he gave me a look that I liked. It was such a quaint mingling of -such a nice man with such a nice boy. - -"I understand perfectly," said I, and I can't tell how much I hated -to hurt him--he did so remind me of dear old "ma" Burke. "But--please -don't discuss it. I couldn't consider the matter--possibly." - -"You won't leave!" he exclaimed. "I assure you I'll not annoy you. You -must admit, Miss Talltowers, that I haven't tried to thrust myself on -you in the past. And--really, mother and father couldn't get on at all -without you." - -"Certainly, I shan't leave--why should I?" said I. "I'm very well -satisfied with my position." - -"Thank you," he said with an awkward bow, and he left me alone. - -Of course, I couldn't possibly marry him. But I suppose a woman's -vanity compels her to take a more favorable view of any man after -she's found out that he wishes to marry her. Anyhow, I find I don't -dislike him at all as I thought I did. I couldn't help being amused at -myself the next day. I was driving with Jessie, and she was giving me -her usual sermon on the advantages of the Burke alliance--if I could -by chance scheme it through. "You're very pretty, Gus," she said. "In -fact you're beautiful at times. Men do like height when it goes with -your sort of a--a willowy figure. Your eyes alone--if you would only -_use_ them--would catch him. And the Burkes would be--well, they might -object a little at first because you've given them a position that -has no doubt swollen their heads--but they'd yield gracefully. And -although you are very attractive and are always having men in love with -you, you've simply got to make up your mind soon. Look how many such -nice, good-looking girls have been crowded aside by the young ones. Men -are crazy about freshness, no matter what they pretend. Yes, you must -decide, dear. And--I couldn't _endure_ poor Carteret when I married -him." - -Carteret is a miserable specimen, and Jessie's ways keep him in a dazed -state--like an old hen sitting on a limb and turning her head round and -round to keep watch on a fox that's racing in a circle underneath. Fox -doesn't seem exactly to fit Jessie, but sometimes I suspect--however-- - -"But," Jessie was going on, "I knew mama was my best friend. And when -she said, 'Six months after marriage you'll be quite used to him and -won't in the least mind, and you'll be so glad you married somebody who -was quiet and good,' I married him. And I love him dearly, Gus, and we -make each other _so_ happy!" - -I laughed--Jessie doesn't mind; she don't understand what laughter -means in most people. I was thinking of what Rachel told me the other -day. She said to Carteret, "It must be great fun wondering what Jessie -will do next." And he looked at her in his dumb way and said: "What -she'll do _next_? Lord, I ain't caught up with _that_. I'm just about -six weeks behind on her record all the time." - -But to go back to Jessie's talk to me, she went on: "And Mr. Burke's -not so dreadfully unattractive, dear. Of course, he's far from -handsome, and--well, he's the son of Mr. and Mrs. Burke--but though -they're quite common and all that--" - -I found myself furiously angry. "I don't think he's at all -bad-looking," I said, pretending to be judicial. "He's big and strong -and sensible; and what more does a woman usually ask for? And I don't -at all agree with you about his father and mother, either--especially -his mother. No, Jessie, dear, my objections aren't yours at all. I'm -sure you wouldn't understand them, so let's not talk about it." - -February 3. Yesterday Mrs. Tevis sent for me. That was a good deal of -an impertinence, but I'm getting very sensible about impertinences. -She lives in grand style in a big, new house in K Street--it, like -everything about her, is "regardless of expense." The Tevises have been -making the most desperate efforts to "break in" last season and this, -and as Washington is, up to a certain point, very easy for strangers -with money, they've gone pretty far. I suppose Washington's like every -other capital--the people are so used to all sorts of queer strangers -and everything is so restless and changeful that no one minds adding to -his list of acquaintances any person who offers entertainment and isn't -too appalling. And the Tevises have been spending money like water. - -It's queer how people can go everywhere that anybody goes and can seem -to be "right in it," yet not be in it at all. That's the way it is -with the Tevises. They are at every big affair in town--White House, -embassies, private houses. But they're never invited to the smaller, -more or less informal things. And when they do appear at a ball or -anywhere they're treated with formal politeness. They know there's -something wrong, but they can't for the life of them see what it is. -And that's not strange, for who can see the line that's instinctively -drawn between social sheep and social goats in the flock that's -apparently all mixed up? Everybody knows the sheep on sight; everybody -knows the goats. And all act accordingly without anything being said. - -Well, Mr. and Mrs. Tevis are goats. Why? Anybody could see it after -talking to either of them for five minutes; yet who could say why? It -isn't because they're snobs--lots of sheep are nauseating snobs. It -isn't because they're very badly self-made--I defy anybody to produce -a goat that can touch Willie Catesby or Rennie Tucker, yet each of them -has ancestors by the score. It isn't because they're new--the Burkes -are new, yet Mrs. Burke has at least a dozen intimate acquaintances -of the right sort. It isn't because they're ostentatious and boastful -about wealth and prices--there are scores of sheep who make the same -sort of absurd exhibition of vulgarity. I can't place it. They're just -goats, and they know it, and they feel it; and when you go to their -house they suggest a restaurant keeper welcoming his customers; and -when they come to your house they suggest Cook's tourists roaming in -the private apartments of a palace, smiling apologetically at every one -and wondering whether they're not about to be told to "step lively." - -Mrs. Tevis received me very grandly and graciously, though dreadfully -nervous withal, lest I should be seeing that she was "throwing a bluff" -and should put her in her place. - -"I've requested you to come, my dear Miss Talltowers," she began, -after she had bunglingly served tea from the newest and costliest and -most elaborate tea-set I ever saw, "because I had a little matter of -business to talk over with you and felt that we could talk more freely -here." - -"I must be back at half-past five," said I, by way of urging her on to -the point. - -"That will be quite time enough," said she. "We can have our little -conversation quite nicely, and you will be in ample time for your -duties." - -I wonder what sort of dialect she _thinks_ in. It certainly can't be -more irritating than the one she translates her thoughts into before -speaking them. The dialect she inflicts on people sounds as if it were -from a Complete Conversationalist, got up by an old maid who had been -teaching school for forty years. - -"I have decided to take a secretary for next season," she went on. "Not -that I need any such direction as the Burkes. Fortunately, Mr. Tevis -and I have had a large social experience on both sides of the Atlantic -and have always moved with the best people. But just a secretary--to -attend to my onerous correspondence and arrangements for entertaining. -The duties would be light, but we should be willing to pay a larger -salary than the position would really justify--that is, we should be -willing to pay it, you know, to a _lady_ such as you are." - -I bowed. - -"We should treat you with all delicacy and appreciation of -the fact that your misfortunes have compelled you to take -a--a--position--which--which--" - -"You are very kind, Mrs. Tevis," said I. - -"And we realized that in all probability the Burkes would have no -further use for your services at the end of this season, as you have -been most successful with them." - -I winced. For the first time the "practical" view of what I've been -doing for the Burkes stared me in the face--that is, the view which -such people as the Tevises, perhaps many of my friends, took of it. So -I was being regarded, spoken of, discussed, as a person who had been -bought by the Burkes to get them in with certain people. And it was -assumed that, having got what they wanted, they would dismiss me and so -cut off a superfluous expense! I was somewhat astonished at myself for -not having seen my position in this light before. - -And I suddenly realized why I hadn't--because the Burkes were really -nice people, because I hadn't been their employee but their friend. -What if I had started my career as a dependent of Mrs. Tevis'! I -shivered. And when the Burkes should need me no longer--why, the -probabilities were that I should have to seek employment from just -such dreadful people as these--upstarts eager to jam themselves in, -vulgarians whom icy manners and forbidding looks only influence to -fiercer efforts to associate with those who don't wish to associate -with them. - -Mrs. Tevis interrupted my dismal thoughts with a cough, intended to be -polite. "What--what--compensation would you expect, may I ask?" - -"What do such positions pay?" I said, and my voice sounded harsh to me. -I wished to know what value was usually put upon such services. - -"Would--say--twenty-five dollars a week be--meet with your views?" -she asked, and her tone was that of a person performing an act of -astounding generosity. - -"Oh, dear me, no," said I, with the kind of sweetness that coats a pill -of gall. "I couldn't think of trying to get you in for any such sum as -that." - -I saw that the gall had bit through the sugar-coat. - -"Would you object to giving me some idea of what the Burkes pay?" she -asked, with the taste puckering her mouth. - -"I should," I replied, rising. "Anyhow, I don't care to undertake the -job. Thank you so much for your generosity and kindness, Mrs. Tevis." -I nodded--I'm afraid it was a nod intended to "put her in her place." -"Good-by." And I smiled and got myself out of the room before she -recovered. - -I _wish_ I hadn't seen her. I hate the truth--it's always unpleasant. - -February 5. Mrs. Burke had thirty-one invitations to-day, eleven of -them for her and Mr. Burke. Seven were invitations to little affairs -which Mrs. Tevis would give--well, perhaps five dollars apiece--to -get to. How ridiculous for her to economize in the one way in which -liberality is most necessary. Here they are spending probably a -hundred thousand dollars a season in hopeless attempts to do that which -they would hesitate to pay me six hundred dollars for doing. And this -when they think I could accomplish it. But could I? I guess not. To -win out as I have with the Burkes you've got to have the right sort -of material to work on, and it must be workable. Vulgar people would -be ashamed to put themselves in any one's hands as completely as Mrs. -Burke put herself in my hands. - -Oh, I'm sick--sick, sick of it! I'm ashamed to look "ma" Burke in the -face, because I think such mean things about them all when I'm in bed -and blue. - -February 6. I decline all the invitations that come for me personally. -I sit in my "office" and pretend to be fussing with my books--they give -me the horrors! And I was so proud of them and of my plans to make my -little enterprise a success. - -February 7. Mrs. Burke came in this afternoon and came round my desk -and kissed me. "What is it, dear? What's the matter?" she said. "Won't -you tell _me_? Why, I feel as if you were my daughter. I did have a -daughter. She came first. Tom was so disappointed. But I was glad. A -son belongs to both his parents, and, when he's grown up, to his wife. -But a daughter--she would 'a' belonged to me always. And she had to up -and die just when she was about to make up her mind to talk." - -I put my face down in my arms on the desk. - -"Tired, dear?" said "ma"--she's a born "ma." "Of course, that's it. -You're clean pegged out, working and worrying. You must put it all -away and rest." And she sat down by me. - -All of a sudden--I couldn't help it--I put my head on her great, big -bosom and burst out crying. "Oh, I'm so _bad_!" I said. "And you're so -_good_!" - -She patted me and kissed me on top of my head. "What pretty, soft hair -you have, dear," she said, "and what a lot of it! My! My! I don't see -how anybody that looks like you do could ever be unhappy a minute. You -don't know what it means to be born homely and fat and to have to work -hard just to make people not object to having you about." And she went -on talking in that way until I was presently laughing, still against -that great, big bosom with the great, big heart beating under it. -When I felt that it would be a downright imposition to stay there any -longer I straightened up. I felt quite cheerful. - -"Was there something worrying you?" she asked. - -I blushed and hung my head. "Yes, but I can't tell you," said I. And I -couldn't--could I? Besides, there somehow doesn't seem to be much of -anything in all my brooding. What a nasty beast that Mrs. Tevis is! - -February 12. Mrs. Burke and I went to a reception at the Secretary -of State's this afternoon. We saw Nadeshda's sister in the -distance--that's where we've always seen her and the ambassador and -the whole embassy staff ever since the "bust-up," except funny little -De Pleyev. He, being of a mediatized family, does not need to disturb -himself about ambassadorial frowns or smiles. It's curious what a -strong resemblance there is between a foreigner of royal blood and a -straightaway American gentleman. But, as I was about to write, this -afternoon the distance between us and Madame l'Ambassadrice slowly -lessened, and when she was quite close to us she gave us a dazzling -smile apiece and said to Mrs. Burke: "My dear Madame Burke, you are -looking most charming. You must come to us to tea. To-morrow? Do say -yes--we've missed you so. My poor back--it almost shuts me out of the -world." And she passed on--probably didn't wish to risk the chance that -"ma's" puzzled look might give place to an expression of some kind of -anger and that she might make one of those frank speeches she's famous -for. - -"Well, did you _ever_!" exclaimed "ma" when the Countess was out of -earshot. - -I said warningly: "Everybody's seen it and is watching you." And it -was true. The whole crowd in those perfume-steeped rooms was gaping, -and the news had spread so quickly that a throng was pushing in from -the tea-room, some of them still chewing. - -Afterward we discussed it, and could come to but one conclusion--that -the Robert-Nadeshda crisis had passed. But--do the Daraganes think -that Nadeshda is safe from Robert, or have they decided to take him -in? Certainly, _something_ decisive has happened. And if Robert had -anything to do with it it must have been stirring enough to make the -Daraganes use the cable--how else could Nadeshda's sister have got her -cue so soon? - -February 15. No news whatever of Robert and Nadeshda. Yesterday the -ambassadress came here to tea and said to Mrs. Burke that she had had -a letter from Nadeshda in which she sent us all her love--"especially -your dear, splendid, big Monsieur Cyrus." Mr. and Mrs. Burke are to -dine at the embassy five weeks from to-night--the ambassadress insisted -on Mrs. Burke's giving her first free evening to her, and that was it. - -"I reckon we'll have to go," said "ma" after her departure, and while -the odor of her frightfully-powerful heliotrope scent was still heavy -in the room, "though I doubt if I'll be alive by then. Sometimes it -seems to me I've just got to knock off and take a clean week in bed. -I thought I'd never think of drugs to keep me going, as so many women -advise. But I see I'm getting round to it. And I'm getting _that_ fat -in the body and _that_ lean in the face! Did you ever see the like? I -must 'a' lost three pounds off my face. And the skin's hanging there -waiting for it to come back, instead of shrinking. I'm glad my Tom -never looks at me. I know to a certainty he ain't looked at me in -twenty years. Husbands and wives don't waste much time looking at each -other, and I guess it's a good, safe plan." - -Mrs. Burke does look badly. I must take better care of her. Cyrus looks -badly, too. I haven't seen him to talk to since he made his "strictly -business" proposition. I suppose he wants me to realize that he isn't -one of the pestering kind. I'm sorry he takes it that way, as I'd have -liked to be friends with him. He quarreled so beautifully when we -didn't agree. It's a great satisfaction to have some one at hand who -both agrees and quarrels in a satisfactory way. But I don't dare make -any advances to him. He might misunderstand. - -I've just been laughing--at his cowlick. It _is_ such an obstinate -little swirl. And when he looks serious it looks so funnily frisky, and -when he smiles it looks so fiercely serious and disapproving. Yesterday -I hurried suddenly into the little room just off the ball-room, -thinking it was empty. But Cyrus and his mother were there, and he -was tickling her, and he looked so fond of her, and she looked so -delighted. I slipped away without their seeing me. - -February 16. We gave our second big ball last night with a dinner for -sixty before. It was just half-past five this morning when the last -couple came sneaking out from the alcove off the little room beyond -the conservatory and, we pretending not to see them, scuttled away -without saying good night. Major-General Cutler danced with Mrs. -Burke in the opening quadrille, and Mr. Burke danced with the British -ambassadress--the ambassador is ill. I had Jim on my hands most of the -evening--though I was flirting desperately with little D'Estourelle, he -hung to me with a maddening husbandish air of proprietorship. I don't -see how I ever endured him, much less thought of marrying him. Cyrus -Burke is a king beside him. Excuse me from men who think the fact that -they've done a woman the honor of loving her gives them a property -right to her. Mrs. Burke was the belle of the ball. She had a crowd of -men round her chair all evening, laughing at everything she said. - -February 17. A cable from Robert Gunton at Hamburg this morning--just -"Arrive Washington about March 3." That was all--worse than nothing. -It is Lent, but there's no let up for us. We only get rid of the kind -of entertainments that cost us the least trouble to plan and give, and -we have to arrange more of the kind that have to be done carefully. -Anybody can give a dance, but it takes skill to give a successful -dinner. - -February 19. Nadeshda's sister said to-day, quite casually, to Jessie: -"Deshda's coming back, and we're so glad. The trip has done her _so_ -much good--in every way." Now, whatever did _that_ mean? - - - - -VI - - -February 26. No news of Robert and Nadeshda. Have been glancing through -this diary. How conceited I am, taking credit to myself for everything. -I wonder if I am vainer than most people, or does everybody make the -same ridiculous discovery about himself when he takes himself off his -guard? What an imperfect record this is of our launching. But then, if -I had made it perfect I should have had to go into so many wearisome -details, not to speak of my having so little time. Still, it would -have been interesting to read some day, when I shall have forgotten the -little steps--for although we've had in all only a month before the -season and five weeks between New Year's and Ash Wednesday, so much -has been crowded into that time. It's amazing what one can accomplish -if one uses every moment to a single purpose. And I've not only used -my own time, but Robert's and Jessie's and the time of their and my -friends, and that of Nadeshda and a dozen other people. They and I -all worked together to make my enterprise a success--and Jim and the -Senator, and "ma" Burke was a great help after the first few weeks. -Yes, and I mustn't forget Cyrus. He has made himself astonishingly -popular. I see now that he showed a better side to every one than he -did to me. Perhaps I can guess why. I wonder if he really cares or did -care--for me, or was it just "ma" trying to get me into the family, and -he willing to do anything she asked of him? - -But to go back to my vanity--I see that Jessie, Rachel and Cyrus -were the real cause of my success. Jessie and Rachel alone could -make anybody, who wasn't positively awful, a go. Then Nadeshda, bent -on marrying Cyrus at first, was a big help--and every mama with a -marriageable daughter was hot on Cyrus' trail. So it's easy to make -an infallible recipe for getting into society: First, wealth; second, -willingness to act on competent advice; third, get a "secretary" who -knows society and has intimate friends in its most exclusive set, -and who also knows how to arrange entertainments; fourth, have a -marriageable son, if possible, or, failing that, a daughter, or, -failing that, a near relative who will be well dowered; fifth, organize -the campaign thoroughly and pay particular attention to getting -yourself liked by the few people who really count. You can't bribe -them; you can't drive them; you must _amuse_ them. The more leisure -people have the harder it is to amuse them. - -Looking back, I can see that "ma" Burke passed her social crisis when, -on January 5, Mrs. Gaether asked her to assist at her reception. For -Mrs. Gaether was the first social power who took "ma" up simply and -solely because she liked her. - -We have spent a great deal of money, but not half what the Tevises have -spent. But our money counted because it was incidental. Mere money -won't carry any one very far in Washington--I don't believe it will -anywhere, except, perhaps, in New York. - -I ought to have kept some sort of record of what we've done from day -to day--I mean, more detailed than my books. However, I'll just put in -our last full day before Lent, as far as I can recall it. No, I'll only -write out what Mrs. Burke alone did that day: - -7:30 to 10. She and I, in her room, went over the arrangements for the -ball we were giving in the evening. - -10 to 12:30. She went to see half a dozen people about various social -matters, besides doing a great deal of shopping. - -12:30 to 1:45. More worrying consultation with me, then dressing for -luncheon. - -1:45 to 3:45. A long and tiresome luncheon at one of the embassies. - -3:45 to 6:30. More than twenty calls and teas--a succession of -exhausting rushes and struggles. - -6:30 to 7:15. In the drawing-room here, with a lot of people coming and -going. - -7:15 to 8. Dressing for dinner--a frightful rush. - -8 to 8:30. Receiving the dinner guests. - -8:30 to 10:45. The dinner. - -10:45 to midnight. Receiving the guests for the dance--on her feet all -the time. - -Midnight to 6 in the morning. Sitting, but incessantly busy. - -6 to 9. In bed. - -9. A new and crowded day. - -This has been a short season, but I don't think it was the shortness, -crowding much into a few days, that made the pressure so great. It's -simply that year by year Washington becomes socially worse and worse. -As I looked round at that last ball of ours I pitied the people who -were nerving themselves up to trying to enjoy themselves. - -Almost every one was, and looked, worn out. Here and there the -unnatural brightness of eyes or cheeks showed that somebody--usually a -young person--had been driven to some sort of stimulant to enable him -or her to hold the pace. Quick to laugh; quick to frown and bite the -lips in almost uncontrollable anger. Nerves on edge, flesh quivering. - -Yet, what is one to do? To be "in it" one must go all the time; not -to go all the time, not to accept all the principal invitations, is -to make enemies right and left. Besides, who that gets into the -hysterical state which the Washington season induces can be content to -sit quietly at home when on every side there are alluring opportunities -to enjoy? - -No wonder we see less and less of the men of importance. No wonder the -"sons of somebodies" and the young men of the embassies and legations -and departments, most of them amiable enough, but all just about as -near nothing as you would naturally expect, are the best the women can -get to their houses. - -It is foolish; it is frightful. But it is somehow fascinating, and it -gives us women the chance to go the same reckless American gait that -the men go in their business and professions. - -I am utterly worn out. I might be asleep at this moment. Yet I'm -sitting here alone, too feverish for hope of rest. And I can see -lights in Cyrus' apartment and in Senator Burke's sitting-room, and I -don't doubt poor "ma" is tossing miserably in a vain attempt to get the -sleep that used to come unasked and stay until it was fought off. - -It is Lent, and the season is supposed to be over. But the rush is -still on, and other things which crowd and jam in more than fill up the -vacant space left by big, formal parties. It seems to me that there is -even as much dancing as there was two weeks ago. The only difference is -that it isn't formally arranged for beforehand. - -I'd like to "shut off steam"--indeed, it seems to me that I must if -"ma" Burke is not to be sacrificed. But how can we? People expect us to -entertain, and we must go out to their affairs also. The only escape -would be to fly, and we can't do that so long as Congress is sitting. - -February 27. Robert and Nadeshda are both in town, he with us, she -at the embassy. They are to be married the twelfth of April. The -engagement is to be announced to-morrow. I've never seen any one more -demure than Nadeshda, or happier. I suspect she's going to settle down -into the most domestic of women. Indeed, I know it--for, as she says, -she's afraid of him, obeys him as a dog its master, and the domestic -side of her is the only one he'll tolerate. I've always heard that her -sort of woman is the tamest, once it's under control. She has will but -no continuity. He has a stronger will and his purposes are unalterable. -So he'll continue to dominate her. - -"Ma" Burke asked him, "How did you make out with her folks?" - -He smiled, then laughed. - -"I don't know--exactly," he said. "They couldn't talk my language nor -I theirs. So it was all done through an interpreter. And he was Mrs. -Dean's brother-in-law, Prince Glückstein, and a regular trump. He saw -them half a dozen times before I did. When I saw them everything was -lovely. They left me alone with her after twenty minutes. Finally it -was agreed that we should come back on the same steamer, her brother -accompanying her." - -"But why on earth didn't you cable us?" she demanded. - -"I did," he replied. - -"But you didn't tell us anything," she returned. - -"I told you all there was to tell," he replied. - -"You only said you were coming," she objected. - -"Well," he answered, looking somewhat surprised, "I knew you'd know I -wouldn't come without her." - -I'm glad he didn't get it into his head to "take after" me. A woman -stands no more chance with a man like that than a rabbit with a -greyhound. - -February 29. "Ma" Burke is dreadfully ill--has been for two days. The -doctors have got several large Latin names for it, but the plain truth -is that she has broken down under the strain she seemed to be bearing -so placidly. She didn't give up until she was absolutely unable to lift -herself out of bed. "I knew it was coming," she said, "but I thought I -had spirit enough to put it off till I had more time." - -It wasn't until she did give up that her face really showed how badly -off she was. I was sitting by her bed when "pa" Burke and Cyrus came -in. I couldn't bear to look at them, yet I couldn't keep my eyes off -their faces. Both got deadly white at sight of her, and "pa" rushed -from the room after a moment or two. The doctor had cautioned him -against alarming her by showing any signs of grief. But "pa" couldn't -stand it. He went to his study, and the housekeeper told me he cried -like a baby. Cyrus stayed, and I couldn't help admiring the way he put -on cheerfulness. - -"I'll be all right in a few days," said "ma." "It wasn't what I did; it -was what I et. I'm such a fool that I can't let things that look good -go by. And I went from house to house, munching away, cake here, candy -there, chocolate yonder, besides lunches and dinners and suppers. I et -in and I et out. Now, I reckon I've got to settle the bill. Thank the -Lord I don't have to do it standing up." - -Cyrus and I went away from her room together. "If she wasn't so good," -said he, more to himself than to me, "I'd not be so--so uncertain." - -"I feel that I'm to blame," said I bitterly. "It was I that gave her -all those things to do." - -He was silent, and his silence frightened me. I had felt that I was -partly to blame. His silence made me feel that I was wholly to blame, -and that he thought so. - -"If I could only undo it," I said, in what little voice I could muster. - -"If you only could," he muttered. - -I was utterly crushed. Every bit of my courage fled, and--but what's -the use of trying to describe it? It was as if I had tried to murder -her and had come to my senses and was realizing what I'd done. - -I suppose I must have shown what was in my mind, for, all of a sudden, -with a sort of sob or groan, he put his arms round me--such a strong -yet such a gentle clasp! "Don't look like that, dear!" he pleaded. -"Forgive me--it was cowardly, what I said--and not true. We're all to -blame--you the least. Haven't I seen, day after day, how you've done -everything you could to spare her--how you've worn yourself out?" - -He let me go as suddenly as he had seized me. - -"I'm not fit to be called a man!" he exclaimed. "Just because I loved -you, and was always thinking of you, and watching you, and worrying -about you, I neglected to think of mother. If I'd given her a single -thought I'd have known long ago that she was ill." - -Just then Mrs. Burke's maid called me--she was only a few yards away, -and must have seen everything. I hurried back to the room we had -quitted a few minutes before. "You must cheer up those two big, foolish -men, child," she said. "You all think I'm going to pass over, but I'm -not. You won't get rid of me for many a year. And I rely on you to -prevent them from going all to pieces." - -She paused and looked at me wistfully, as if she longed to say -something but was afraid she had no right to. I said: "What is it--ma?" - -Her face brightened. "Come, kiss me," she murmured. "Thank you for -saying that. We're very different in lots of ways, being raised so -different. But hearts have a way of finding each other, haven't they?" - -I nodded. - -"What I wanted to say was about--Cyrus," she went on. "My Cyrus told -me that he don't see how he could get along without you, no way, and -I advised him to talk to you about it, because I knew it'd relieve -his mind and because it'd set you to looking at him in a different -way. Anyhow, it's always a good plan to ask for what you want. And he -did--and he told me you wouldn't hear to him. Don't think I'm trying to -persuade you. All I meant to say is that--" - -She stopped and smiled, a bright shadow of that old, broad, beaming -smile of hers. - -"I'd do anything for you!" I exclaimed, on impulse. - -"I'm afraid that wouldn't suit Cyrus," she drawled, good humoredly. -"He'd be mad as the Old Scratch if he knew what I was up to now. -Well--do the best you can. But don't do anything unless it's for his -sake. Only--just look him over again. There's a lot to Cyrus besides -his cowlick. And he's been so dead in love with you ever since he first -saw you that he's been making a perfect fool of himself every time he -looked at you or spoke to you. Sometimes, when I've seen the way he's -acted up, like a farmhand waltzing in cowhides, I've felt like taking -him over my knees and laying it on good and hard." - -I was laughing so that I couldn't answer--the reaction from the fear -that she might be very, very ill had made me hysterical. I could still -see that she was sick, extremely sick, but I realized that our love for -her had just put us into a panic. - -"Do the best you can, dear," she ended. "And everything--all the -entertaining here and the going out--must be kept up just the same -as if I was being dragged about down stairs instead of lying up here -resting." - -She insisted on this, and would not be content until she had my -promise. "And don't forget to cheer pa and Cyrus up. I never was sick -before--not a day. That's why they take on so." - -I think I have been succeeding in cheering them up. And everything is -going forward as before--except, of course, that we've cut out every -engagement we possibly could. - -It's amazing how many friends "ma" Burke has made in such a short -time. Ever since the news of her illness got out, the front door has -been opening and shutting all day long. And those of the callers that -I've seen have shown a real interest. This has made me have a better -opinion of human nature than I had thought I could have. I suppose -half the seeming heartlessness in this world is suspicion and a sort -of miserly dread lest one should give kindly feeling without getting -any of it in return. But "ma" Burke, who never bothers her head for an -instant about whether people like her, and gets all her pleasure out of -liking them, makes friends by the score. - -I'm in a queer state of mind about Cyrus. - -March 3. "Ma" Burke was brought down to the drawing-room for tea -to-day. She held a regular levee. Those that came early spread it -round, and by six o'clock they were pouring in. She looked extremely -well, and gloriously happy. All she had needed was complete rest and -sleep--and less to eat. "After this," she said, "I'm not going to eat -more than four or five meals a day. At my age a woman can't stand the -strain of ten and twelve--my record was sixteen--counting two teas -as one meal." For an hour there was hilarious chattering in English, -French, German, Italian, Russian, and mixtures of all five. I think -the thing that most fascinates Mrs. Burke about Washington is the many -languages spoken. She looks at me in an awed way when I trot out my -three in quick succession. And she regards the women as superhuman who -speak so many languages so fluently that they drift from one to the -other without being quite sure what they're speaking. There certainly -were enough going on at once to-day, and a good many of the women -smoked. - -But to return to Mrs. Burke. When only a few of those we know best were -left this afternoon, and Nadeshda was smoking, Jessie, who is always -so tactful, said to Robert: "I'm glad to see that you don't object to -Nadeshda's smoking." - -Mrs. Burke laughed. "Why should he?" said she. "Why, when we were -children ma and pa used to sit on opposite sides of the chimney, -smoking their pipes. And ma dipped, too, when it wasn't convenient for -her to have her pipe." - -"Do _you_ smoke, Mrs. Burke?" asked Jessie, with wide, serious eyes. "I -never saw you." - -"No, I don't," she confessed. "Tom used to hate the smell of it, so I -never got into the habit." - -Nadeshda was tremendously amused by what Mrs. Burke had said about -pipes. "I didn't know it was considered nice for a lady to smoke in -America until recently," said she. "And pipes! How eccentric! Mama -smokes cigars--one after dinner, but I never heard of a lady smoking a -pipe." - -"Ma wasn't a lady--what _you'd_ call a lady," replied Mrs. Burke. "She -was just a plain woman. She didn't smoke because she thought it was -fashionable, but because she thought it was comfortable. As soon as we -children got a little older we used to be terribly ashamed of it--but -_she_ kept right on. And now it's come in style." - -"Not _pipes_," said Jessie. - -"Not _yet_," said "ma," with a smile. - -When I thought they had all gone, and I was writing in my "office" for -a few minutes before going up to dress, Nadeshda came in to me. "Ma" -Burke used often to say that Nadeshda's eyes were "full of the Old -Scratch," but certainly they were not at that moment. She was giving -me a glimpse of that side which, as Browning, I think, says, even the -meanest creature has and shows only to the person he or she loves. Not -that Nadeshda loves me, but she has that side turned outermost nowadays -whenever she hasn't the veil drawn completely over her real self. - -"My dear," she said in French, "what is it? Why these little smiles all -afternoon whenever you forgot where you were?" - -I couldn't help blushing. "I don't quite know, myself," I replied--and -it was so. - -"Oh, you cold, cold, _cold_ Americans!"--then she paused and gave me -one of her strange smiles, with her eyes elongated and her lips just -parted--"I mean, you American women." - -"Cold, because we don't set ourselves on fire?" I inquired. - -"But yes," she answered, "yourselves, and the men, too. Never mind. I -shall not peep into your little secret." She laughed. "It always chills -me to grope round in one of your cold American women's hearts." - -"I wish you could tell me what my secret is--and that's the plain -truth," said I. - -She laughed again, shrugged her shoulders, pinched my cheek, nodded -her head until her big plumed hat was all in a quiver and was shaking -out volumes of the strong, heavy perfume she uses. And without saying -anything more she went away. - -March 4. Cyrus and I sat next each other at dinner at the Secretary -of War's to-night. It has happened several times this winter, as the -precedence is often very difficult to arrange at small dinners. Old -Alex Bartlett took me in, and as he's stone deaf and a monstrous eater -I was free. - -Cyrus had taken in a silent little girl who has just come out. She had -exhausted her little line of prearranged conversation before the fish -was taken away. So Cyrus talked to me. - -"She's grateful for my letting her alone," said he when I tried to turn -him back to his duty. "Besides, if I didn't meet you out once in a -while you'd forget me entirely. And I don't want that, if I can avoid -it." - -"Thank you," said I, for lack of anything else to say, and with not -the remotest intention of irritating him. But he flushed scarlet, and -frowned. - -"You always and deliberately misconstrue everything I say," said he -bitterly. "I know I'm unfortunate in trying to express myself to you, -but why do you never attribute to me anything but the worst intentions?" - -"And why should you assume that every careless reply I make is a -carefully thought out attack on you?" I retorted. "Don't you think your -vanity makes you morbid?" - -"You know perfectly well that it isn't vanity that makes me think you -especially dislike me," said he. - -"But I don't," I answered. "I confess I did at first, but not since -I've come to know you better." - -"Why did you dislike me at first?" he asked. "You began on me with -almost the first moment of our acquaintance." - -"That's true--I did," I admitted. "I had a reason for it--didn't -Nadeshda tell you what it was?" - -He looked frightened. - -"Be frank, if you want me to be frank," said I. - -"I never for an instant believed what she said," he replied abjectly. -Then after a warning look from me, he added--"_Really_ believed it, I -mean." - -"And what was it that you didn't really believe?" I demanded. - -He looked at me boldly. "Nadeshda and one or two others told me that -you and your friends had arranged it for me to marry you. But, of -course, I knew it wasn't so." - -"But it was so," I replied. "You were one of the considerations that -determined my friends in trying to get me my place." - -"Well--and why didn't you take me when I finally fell into the trap?" - -I let him see I was laughing at him. - -He scowled--his cowlick did look so funny that I longed to pull it. -"Simply couldn't stand me--not even for the sake of what I brought," he -said. And then he gave me a straight, searching look. "I wonder why I -don't hate you," he went on. "I wonder why I am such an ass as to care -for you. Yes--even if I knew you didn't care for me, still I'd want -you. Can a man make a more degrading confession than that?" - -"But why?" said I, very careful not to let him see how eagerly I -longed to hear him say _the_ words again. "Why should you want--me?" - -He gave a very unpleasant laugh. "If you think I'm going to sit -here and exhibit my feelings for your amusement you're going to be -disappointed. It's none of your business _why_. Certainly not because I -find anything sweet or amiable or even kind in you." - -"That's rude," said I. - -"It was intended to be," said he. - -"Please--let's not quarrel now," said I coldly. "It gives me the -headache to quarrel during dinner." - -And he answered between his set teeth, "To quarrel with -you--anywhere--gives me--the heartache, Gus." - -I had no answer for that, nor should I have had the voice to utter it -if I had had it. And then Mr. Bartlett began prosing to me about the -Greeley-Grant campaign. And when the men came to join the women after -dinner Cyrus went away almost immediately. - -I am _so_ happy to-night. - -March 5. Cyrus came to me in my office to-day--as I had expected. But -instead of looking woebegone and abject, he was radiant. He shut the -door behind him. "_You_--guilty of cowardice," he began. "It isn't -strange that I never suspected it." - -"What do you mean?" I asked, not putting down my pen. - -He came over and took it out of my fingers, then he took my fingers and -kissed them, one by one. I was so astounded--and something else--that I -made not the slightest resistance. "It's useless for you to cry out," -he said, "for I've got the outer door well guarded." - -[Illustration] - -I started up aflame with indignation. "Who--whom--" I began. - -"Ma," he replied. - -"Oh!" I exclaimed, looking round with a wild idea of making a dart for -liberty. - -"Ma," he repeated, "and it's not of the slightest use for you to try -to side-step. You're cornered." He had both my hands now and was -looking at me at arm's length. "So you are afraid to marry me for fear -people--your friends--will say that--I walked right into the trap?" - -I hung my head and couldn't keep from trembling, I was so ashamed. - -"And if it wasn't for that you'd accept my 'proposition'--now--wouldn't -you?" - -"I would not," I replied, wrenching myself away with an effort that -put my hair topsy-turvy--it always does try to come down if I make a -sudden movement, and I washed it only yesterday. - -"What gorgeous hair you have!" he said. "Sometimes I've caught a -glimpse of it just as I was entering a room--and I've had to retreat -and compose myself to make a fresh try." - -"You've been talking to your mother!" I exclaimed--I'd been casting -about for an explanation of all this sudden shrewdness of his in ways -feminine. - -"I have," said he. "It's as important to her as to me that you don't -escape." - -"And she told you that I was in love with _you_!" I tried to put a -little--not too much--scorn into the "you." - -"She did," he answered. "Do you deny that it's true?" - -"I have told you I would never accept your 'proposition,'" was my -answer. - -"So you did," said he. "Then you mean that you're going to sacrifice -my mother's happiness and mine, simply because you're afraid of being -accused of mercenary motives?" - -"I shall never accept your 'proposition,'" I repeated, with a faint -smile that was a plain hint. - -He came very close to me and looked down into my face. "What do you -mean by that?" he demanded. And then he must have remembered what -his proposition was--a strictly business arrangement on both sides. -For, with a sort of gasp of relief, he took me in his arms. I do love -the combination of strength and tenderness in a man. He had looked -and talked and been so strong up to that instant. Then he was _so_ -tender--I could hardly keep back the tears. - -"Wouldn't you like me to tell mother?" he asked. "She's just in the -next room--and--" - -I nodded and said, "I never should have caught you if it hadn't been -for her." - -"Nor I you," said he. And he put me in a chair and opened the door. I -somehow couldn't look up, though I knew she was there. - -"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," said "ma" Burke. "So I guess -I'll just do both." And then she seated herself and was as good as her -word. - -[Illustration] - - - - -TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: - - Text in italics is surrounded with underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Social Secretary, by David Graham Phillips - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOCIAL SECRETARY *** - -***** This file should be named 55719-8.txt or 55719-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/7/1/55719/ - -Produced by David E. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Social Secretary - -Author: David Graham Phillips - -Illustrator: Clarence F. Underwood - Ralph Fletcher Seymour - -Release Date: October 9, 2017 [EBook #55719] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOCIAL SECRETARY *** - - - - -Produced by David E. Brown and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<h1>The Social Secretary</h1> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i005.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - - - -<div class="titlepage"> -<p class="ph1">THE SOCIAL<br /> -SECRETARY</p> - -<p class="ph2"><i>by</i></p> - -<p class="ph2">DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS<br /> -Author of The Plum Tree<br /> -The Cost etc. etc.</p> - -<p class="ph3">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY<br /> -CLARENCE F. UNDERWOOD</p> - -<p>Decorations by<br /> -Ralph Fletcher Seymour</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i005a.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p>New York<br /> -Grosset & Dunlap<br /> -Publishers</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright 1905<br /> -The Bobbs-Merrill Company</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">October</span><br /> -</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="ph1">The Social Secretary</p> - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> -<p class="ph2">The Social Secretary</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">I</h2></div> - - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">November</span> 29. At half-past -one to-day—half-past one exactly—I -began my "career."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Carteret said she would call for -me at five minutes to one. But it was -ten minutes after when she appeared, -away down at the corner of I Street. -Jim was walking up and down the -drawing-room; I was at the window, -watching that corner of I Street. -"There she blows!" I cried, my voice -brave, but my heart like a big lump of -something soggy and sad.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>Jim hurried up and stood behind me, -staring glumly over my shoulder. He -has proposed to me in so many words -more than twenty times in the last three -years, and has looked it every time -we've met—we meet almost every day. -I could feel that he was getting ready -to propose again, but I hadn't the slightest -fear that he'd touch me. He's in -the army, and his "pull" has kept him -snug and safe at Washington and has -promoted him steadily until now he's -a Colonel at thirty-five. But he was -brought up in a formal, old-fashioned -way, and he'd think it a deadly insult -to a woman he respected enough to ask -her to be his wife if he should touch -her without her permission. I admire -Jim's self-restraint, but—I couldn't bear -being married to a man who worshiped -me, even if I only liked him. If I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> -loved him, I'd be utterly miserable. I've -been trying hard to love Jim for the -past four months, or ever since I've -really realized how desperate my affairs -are. But I can't. And the most exasperating -part of my obstinacy is that I -can't find a good reason or excuse for it.</p> - -<p>As I was saying—or, rather, writing—Jim -stood behind me and said in a -husky sort of voice: "You ain't goin' -to do it, are you, Gus?"</p> - -<p>I didn't answer. If I had said anything, -it would have been a feeble, -miserable "No"—which would have -meant that I was accepting the alternative—him. -All my courage had gone -and I felt contemptibly feminine and -dependent.</p> - -<p>I looked at him—I did like the expression -of his eyes and the strength -and manliness of him from head to foot.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> -What a fine sort of man a "pull" and -a private income have spoiled in Jim -Lafollette! He went on: "Surely, I'm -not more repellent to you than—than -what that auto is coming to take you -away to."</p> - -<p>"Shame on you, Jim Lafollette!" I -said angrily—most of the anger so that -he wouldn't understand and take advantage -of the tears in my eyes and voice. -"But how like you! How <i>brave</i>!"</p> - -<p>He reddened at that—partly because -he felt guilty toward me, partly because -he is ashamed of the laziness that has -made him shirk for thirteen years. "I -don't care a hang whether it's brave or -not, or <i>what</i> it is," he said sullenly. "I -want <i>you</i>. And it seems to me I've got -to do something—use force, if necessary—to -keep you from—<i>from that</i>. You -ain't fit for it, Gus—not in any way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> -Why, it's worse than being a servant. -And you—brought up as you've been—"</p> - -<p>I laughed—a pretty successful effort. -"I've been educating for it all my life, -without knowing it. And it's honest -and independent. If you had the right -sort of ideas of self-respect, you'd be -ashamed of me if you thought I'd be -low enough to marry a man I couldn't -give my heart to—for a living."</p> - -<p>"Don't talk rubbish," he retorted. -"Thousands of women do it. Besides, -if I don't mind, why should you? God -knows you've made it plain enough that -you don't love me. Gus, why can't you -marry me and let me save you from this -just as a brother might save a sister?"</p> - -<p>"Because I may love somebody some -day, Jim," said I. I wanted to hurt -him—for his own sake, and also because -I didn't want him to tempt me.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>The auto was at the curb. He didn't -move until I was almost at the drawing-room -door. Then he rushed at me and -his look frightened me a little. He -caught me by the arm. "It's the last -chance, Augusta!" he exclaimed. -"Won't you?"</p> - -<p>I drew away and hurried out. "Then -you don't intend to have anything to -do with me after I've crossed the line -and become a toiler?" I called back -over my shoulder. I couldn't resist the -temptation to be thoroughly feminine -and leave the matter open by putting -him in the wrong with my "woman's -last word." I was so low in my mind -that I reasoned that my adventure might -be as appalling as I feared, in which -case it would be well to have an alternative. -I wonder if the awful thoughts -we sometimes have are our real selves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> -or if they just give us the chance to -measure the gap between what we might -be as shown by them and what we are -as shown by our acts. I hope the latter, -for surely I can't be as poor a creature -as I so often have impulses to make -myself.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Carteret was waiting for the -servant to open the door. I hurried her -back toward the auto, being a little -afraid that Jim would be desperate -enough to come out and beg her to -help him—and I knew she would do -it if she were asked. In the first place, -Jessie always does what she's asked to -do—if it helps her to spend time and -breath. In the second place, she'd never -let up on me if she thought I had so -good a chance to marry. For she knows -that Washington is the hardest place in -the world for a woman to find a husband<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> -unless she's got something that -appeals to the ambition of men. Besides, -she thinks, as do many of my friends, -that I am indifferent to men and discourage -them. As if any woman was -indifferent to men! The only point is -that women's ideas of what constitutes -a man differ, and my six years in this -cosmopolis have made me somewhat -discriminating.</p> - -<p>But to return to Jessie, she was full -of apologies for being late. "I've thought -of nothing but you, dear, for two days -and nights. And I thought that for -once in my life I'd be on time. Yet -here I am, fifteen minutes late, unless -that clock's wrong." She was looking -at the beautiful little clock set in the -dashboard of the auto.</p> - -<p>"Only fifteen minutes!" I said. "And -you never before were known to be less<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> -than half an hour late. You even kept -the President waiting twenty minutes."</p> - -<p>"Isn't it stupid, this fussing about -being on time?" she replied. "I don't -believe any but dull people and those -who want to get something from one -are ever on time. For those who really -live, life is so full that punctuality is -impossible. But I should have been on -time, if I hadn't been down seeing the -Secretary of War about Willie Catesby—poor -Willie! He has been <i>so</i> handicapped -by nature!"</p> - -<p>"Did you get it for him?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I think so—third secretary at St. -Petersburg. The secretary said: 'But -Willie is almost an imbecile, Mrs. Carteret. -If we don't send him abroad, his -family'll have to put him away.' And -I said: 'That's true, Mr. Secretary. But -if we don't send that sort of people to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> -foreign courts, how are we to repay the -insults they send us in the form of imbecile -attachés?' And then I handed -him six letters from senators—every one -of them a man whose vote he needs for -his fight on that nomination. They were -<i>real</i> letters. So presently he said, 'Very -well, Mrs. Carteret, I'll do what I can -to resent the Czar's last insult by exporting -Willie to him."</p> - -<p>I waited a moment, then burst out with -what I was full of. "You think she'll -take me?" I said.</p> - -<p>Jessie reproached me with tragedy in -her always intensely serious gray eyes. -"Take <i>you</i>?" she exclaimed. "Take a -Talltowers when there's a chance to get -one? Why, as soon as I explained who -you were, she fairly quivered with -eagerness."</p> - -<p>"You had to <i>explain</i> who a Talltowers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> -is?" I said with mock amazement. -It's delightful to poke fun at Jessie; she -always appreciates a jest by taking it -more seriously than an ordinary statement -of fact.</p> - -<p>"But, dear, you mustn't be offended. -You know Mrs. Burke is very common -and ignorant. She doesn't know the -first thing about the world. She said -to me the other day that she had often -heard there were such things as class -distinctions, but had never believed it -until she came to Washington—she had -thought it was like the fairy stories. -She never was farther east than Chicago -until this fall. She went there -to the Fair. You must get her to tell -you how she and three other women -who belong to the same Chautauqua -Circle went on together and slept in -the same room and walked from dawn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> -till dark every day, catalogue in hand, -for eleven days. It's too pathetic. She -said, 'My! but my feet were sore. I -thought I was a cripple for life.'"</p> - -<p>"That sounds nice and friendly," said -I, suspicious that Jessie's quaint sense of -humor had not permitted her to appreciate -Mrs. Burke. "I'm so dreadfully -afraid I'll fall into the clutches of people -that'll try to—to humiliate me."</p> - -<p>Tears sprang to Jessie's eyes. "Please -don't, Gus!" she pleaded. "They'll be -only too deferential. And you must keep -them so. I suspect that Mrs. Burke -chums with her servants."</p> - -<p>We were stopping before the house—the -big, splendid Ralston Castle, as -they call it; one of the very finest of the -houses that have been building since rich -men began to buy into the Senate and -Cabinet and aspire for diplomatic places,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> -and so have attracted other rich families -to Washington. What a changed -Washington it is, and what a fight the -old simplicity is making against the new -ostentation! The sight of the Ralston -Castle in my present circumstances depressed -me horribly. I went to my second -ball there, and it was given for me -by Mrs. Ralston. And only a little more -than a year ago I danced in the quadrille -of honor with the French Ambassador—and -the next week the Ralstons -went smash and hurried abroad to hide, -all except the old man who is hanging -round Wall Street, they say, trying to -get on his feet with the aid of his friends. -Friends! How that word must burn into -him every time he thinks of it. When -he got into a tight place his "friends" -took advantage of their knowledge of -his affairs to grab his best securities, they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> -say. No doubt he was disagreeable in -a way, but still those who turned on him -the most savagely had been intimate with -him and had accepted his hospitality.</p> - -<p>"You'll be mistress here," Jessie was -saying. She had put on her prophetic -look and pose—she really believes she -has second sight at certain times. "And -you'll marry the son, if you manage it -right. I counted him in when I was -going over the advantages and disadvantages -of the place before proposing it to -you. He looks like a mild, nice young -man—though I must say I don't fancy -cowlicks right in the part of the hair. -I saw only his picture."</p> - -<p>A tall footman with an insolent face -opened the door and ushered us into the -small drawing-room to the left: "Mrs. -Carteret! Miss Talltowers!" he shouted—far -louder than is customary or courteous.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> -I saw the impudent grin in his eyes—no -proper man-servant ever permits -any one to see his eyes. And he almost -dropped the curtain in our faces, in such -haste was he to get back to his lounging-place -below stairs.</p> - -<p>His roar had lifted to her feet an -elderly woman with her hair so badly -dyed that it made her features look haggard -and harsh and even dissipated. She -made a nervous bow. She was of the -figure called stout by the charitable and -sumptuous by the crude. She was richly-dressed, -over-dressed, dressed-up—shiny -figured satin with a great deal of beads -and lace that added to her width and -subtracted from her height. She stood -miserable, jammed and crammed into a -tight corset. Her hands—very nice -hands, I noticed—were folded upon her -stomach. As soon as I got used to that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> -revolting hair-dye, I saw that she had -in fact a large-featured, sweet face with -fine brown eyes. Even with the dye she -was the kind of looking woman that it -sounds perfectly natural to hear her husband -call "mother."</p> - -<p>Jessie went up to her as she stood -wretched in her pitiful attempt at youth -and her grandeur of clothes and surroundings. -Mrs. Burke looked down -kindly, with a sudden quizzical smile -that reminded me of my suspicions as -to the Chicago Fair story. Jessie was -looking up like a plump, pretty, tame -robin, head on one side. "<i>Dear</i> Mrs. -Burke," she said. "This is Miss Talltowers, -and I'm sure you'll love each -other."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke looked at me—I thought, -with a determined attempt to be suspicious -and cautious. I'm afraid Jessie's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> -reputation for tireless effort to do something -for everybody has finally "queered" -her recommendations. However, whatever -warning Mrs. Burke had received -went for nothing. She was no match -for Jessie—Jessie from whom his Majesty -at the White House hides when -he knows she's coming for an impossible -favor—she was no match for Jessie -and she knew it. She wiped the sweat -from her face and stammered: "I hope -we'll suit each other, Miss—" In her -embarrassment she had forgotten my -name.</p> - -<p>"Talltowers," whispered Jessie with a -side-splitting look of tragic apology to -me. Just then the clock in the corner -struck out the half-hour from its cathedral -bell—the sound echoed and reëchoed -through me, for it marked the beginning -of my "career." Jessie went on more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> -loudly: "And now that our <i>business</i> is -settled, can't we have some lunch, Mrs. -Burke? I'm starved."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke brightened. "The Senator -won't be here to-day," she drawled, in -a tone which always suggests to me that, -after all, life is a smooth, leisurely matter -with plenty of time for everything -except work. "As he was leaving for -the Capitol this morning, he says to me, -says he: 'You women had better fight -it out alone.'"</p> - -<p>"The <i>dear</i> Senator!" said Jessie. -"He's <i>so</i> clever?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he <i>is</i> mighty clever with those -he likes," replied Mrs. Burke—Jessie -looking at me to make sure I would -note Mrs. Burke's "provincial" way of -using the word clever.</p> - -<p>Jessie saved the luncheon—or, at least, -thought she was saving it. Mrs. Burke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> -and I had only to listen and eat. I caught -her looking at me several times, and -then I saw shrewdness in her eyes—good-natured, -but none the less penetrating -for that. And I knew I should -like her, and should get on with her. -At last our eyes met and we both smiled. -After that she somehow seemed less -crowded and foreign in her tight, fine -clothes. I saw she was impatient for -Jessie to go the moment luncheon was -over, but it was nearly three o'clock -before we were left alone together. -There fell an embarrassed silence—for -both of us were painfully conscious that -nothing had really been settled.</p> - -<p>"When do you wish me to come—if -you do wish it at all?" I asked, by -way of making a beginning.</p> - -<p>"When do you think you could -come?" she inquired nervously.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>"Then you do wish to give me a -trial? I hope you won't feel that Mrs. -Carteret's precipitate way binds you."</p> - -<p>She gave me a shrewd, good-natured -look. "I want you to come," she said. -"I wanted it from what I'd heard of -you—I and Mr. Burke. I want it more -than ever, now that I've seen you. When -can you come?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow—to-morrow morning?"</p> - -<p>"Come as early as you like. The salary -is—is satisfactory?"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Carteret said—but I'm sure—you -can judge better—whatever—" I -stuttered, red as fire.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke laughed. "I can see you -ain't a great hand at business. The salary -is two thousand a year, with a three -months' vacation in the time we're not -at Washington. Always have a plain understanding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> -in money matters—it saves -a lot of mean feelings and quarrels."</p> - -<p>"Very well—whatever you think. I -don't believe I'm worth much of anything -until I've had a chance to show -what I can do."</p> - -<p>"Well, Tom—Mr. Burke—said two -thousand would be about right at the set-off," -she drawled in her calming tone. -"So we'll consider that settled."</p> - -<p>"Yes," I gasped, with a big sigh of -relief. "I suppose you wish me to take -charge of your social matters—relieve -you of the burdensome part of entertaining?"</p> - -<p>"I just wish you could," she said, with -a great deal of humor in her slow voice. -"But I've got to keep that—it's the trying -to make people have a good time -and not look and act as if they were -wondering why they'd come."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>"That'll soon wear off," said I. "Most -of the stiffness is strangeness on both -sides, don't you think?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. As nearly as I can -make out, they never had a real, natural -good time in their lives. They wear the -Sunday, go-to-meeting clothes and manners -the whole seven days. I'll never -get used to it. I can't talk that kind of -talk. And if I was just plain and natural, -they'd think I was stark crazy."</p> - -<p>"Did you ever try?"</p> - -<p>She lifted her hands in mock-horror. -"Mercy, no! Tom—Mr. Burke—warned -me."</p> - -<p>I laughed. "Men don't know much -about that sort of thing," said I. "A -woman might as well let a man tell her -how to dress as how to act."</p> - -<p>She colored. "He does," she said, her -eyes twinkling. "He was here two winters—this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> -is my first. I've a kind of feeling -that he really don't know, but he's -positive and—I've had nobody else to -talk about it with. I'm a stranger here—not -a friend except people who—well, -I can guess pretty close to what they say -behind my back." She laughed—a great -shaking of as much of her as was not -held rigid by that tight corset. "Not -that I care—I like a joke myself, and -I'm a good deal of a joke among these -grand folks. Only, I do want to help -Tom, and not be a drag." She gave me -a sudden, sharp look. "I don't know -why I trust you, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>"Because I'm your confidential adviser," -said I, "and it's always well to -keep nothing from a confidential adviser." -The longer I looked and listened, -the larger possibilities I saw in -her. My enthusiasm was rising.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>She rose and came to me and kissed -me. There were tears in her eyes. "I've -been <i>so</i> lonesome," she said. "Even Tom -don't seem natural any more, away off -here in the East. Sometimes I get so -homesick that I just can't eat or anything."</p> - -<p>"We're going to have a lot of fun," -said I encouragingly—as if she were -twenty-four and I fifty, instead of it being -the other way. "You'll soon learn -the ropes."</p> - -<p>"I'm so glad you use slang," she -drawled, back in her chair and comfortably -settled. "My, but Tom'll be scandalized. -He's made inquiries about you -and has made up his mind that whatever -you say is right. And I almost believed -he knew the trails. I might 'a' known! -He's a man, you see, and always was -stiff with the ladies. You ought to 'a'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> -seen the letter he wrote proposing to me. -You see, I'm kind of fat and always was. -Mother used to tease me because I hadn't -any beaux except Tom, who wouldn't -come to the point. She said: 'Lizzie, -you'll never have a man make real love -to you.' And she was right. When -Tom proposed he wrote very formal-like—not -a sentimental word. And -when we were married and got better -acquainted, I teased him about it, and -tried to get him to make love, real book -kind of love. But not a word! But he's -fond of me—we always have got on -fine, and his being no good at love-talk -is just one of our jokes."</p> - -<p>It was fine to hear her drawl it out—I -knew that she was sure to make a -hit, if only I could get her under way, -could convince her that it's nice to be -natural if you're naturally nice.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>"Tom" came in from the Senate and -I soon saw that, though she was a -"really" lady, of the only kind that is -real—the kind that's born right, he was -a made gentleman, and not a very successful -job. He was small and thin and -dressed with the same absurd stiff care -with which he had made her dress. He -had a pointed reddish beard and reddish -curls, and he used a kind of scent that -smelt cheap though it probably wasn't. -He was very precise and distant with -me—how "Lizzie's" eyes did twinkle -as she watched him. I saw that she was -"on to" Tom with the quickness with -which a shrewd woman always finds -out, once she gets the clue.</p> - -<p>"Have you had Miss Talltowers -shown her rooms, Mrs. Burke?" he soon -inquired.</p> - -<p>"Why, no, pa," replied Mrs. Burke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> -"I forgot it clear." As she said "pa" -he winced and her eyes danced with -fun. She went on to me: "You don't -mind our calling each other pa and ma -before you, do you, Miss Talltowers? -We're so used to doing it that, if you -minded it and we had to stop, we'd feel -as if we had company in the house all -the time."</p> - -<p>I didn't dare answer, I was so full of -laughter. For "pa" looked as if he -were about to sink through the floor. -She led me up to my rooms—a beautiful -suite on the third floor. "We took -the house furnished," she explained as -we went, "and I feel as if I was living -in a hotel—except that the servants -ain't nearly so nice. I do hope you'll -help me with them. Tom wanted me -to take a housekeeper, but those that -applied were such grand ladies that I'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> -rather 'a' done all my own work than -'a' had any one of them about. Perhaps -we could get one now, and you could -kind of keep her in check."</p> - -<p>"I think it'd be better to have some -one," I replied. "I've had some experience -in managing a house." I couldn't -help saying it unsteadily—not because -I miss our house; no, I'm sure it wasn't -that. But I suddenly saw the old library -and my father looking up from his -book to smile lovingly at me as I struggled -with the household accounts. Anyhow, -deep down I'm glad he did know -so little about business and so much -about everything that's fine. I'd rather -have my memories of him than any -money he could have left me by being -less of a father and friend and more of -a "practical" man.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke looked at me sympathetically—I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> -could see that she longed to -say something about my changed fortunes, -but refrained through fear of not -saying the right thing. I must teach -her never to be afraid of that—a born -lady with a good heart could never be -really tactless. She went to the front -door with me, opening it for me herself -to the contemptuous amusement of -the tall footman. We shook hands and -kissed—I usually can't bear to have a -woman kiss me, but I'd have felt badly -if "ma" Burke hadn't done it.</p> - -<p>When I got back to Rachel's and -burst into the drawing-room with a -radiant face, I heard a grunt like a groan. -It was from Jim in the twilight near -Rachel at the tea-table. "I'm going -out to service to-morrow," said I to -Rachel. "So you're to be rid of your -visitor at last."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>"Oh, Gus!" exclaimed Rachel between -anger and tears. And Jim looked -black and sullen. But I was happy—and -am to-night. Happy for the first -time in two years. I'm going to <i>do</i> -something—and it is something that -interests me. I'm going to launch a fine -stately ship, a full-rigged four-master in -this big-little sea of Washington society. -What a sensation I can make with it -among the pretty holiday boats!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">II</h2></div> - - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">December</span> 6. Last Monday -morning young Mr. Burke—Cyrus, -the son and heir—arrived, -just from Germany. The first -glimpse I had of him was as he entered -the house between his father and his -mother, who had gone to the station to -meet him. I got myself out of the way -and didn't come down until "ma" Burke -sent for me. I liked the way she was -sitting there beaming—but then, I like -almost everything she does; she's such -a large, natural person. She never stands,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> -except on her way to sit just as soon as -ever she can. "I never was a great -hand for using my feet," she said to me -on my second day, "and I don't know -but about as much seems to 'a' come to -find me as most people catch up with -by running their legs off." I liked the -way her son was hovering about her. -And I liked the way "pa" Burke hovered -round them both, nervous and pulling -at his whiskers and trying to think -of things to say—if he only wouldn't -use brilliantine, or whatever it is, on his -whiskers!</p> - -<p>"Cyrus, this is my friend, Miss Talltowers," -said Mrs. Burke. I smiled and -he clapped his heels together with a -click and doubled up as if he had a sudden -pain in his middle, just like all the -northern Continental diplomats. When -he straightened back to the normal I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> -took a good look at him—and he at me. -I don't know—or, rather, didn't then -know—what <i>he</i> thought. But I thought -him—well, "common." He has a great -big body that's strong and well-proportioned; -but his features are so insignificant—a -small mouth, a small nose, -small ears, eyes, forehead, small head. -And there, in the very worst place—just -where the part ought to be—was -the cowlick I'd noticed in his photograph. -When he began to speak I liked -him still less. He's been at Berlin three -years, but still has his Harvard accent. -I wonder why they teach men at Harvard -to use their lips in making words -as a Miss Nancy sort of man uses his -fingers in doing fancy work?</p> - -<p>Neither of us said anything memorable, -and presently he went away to his -room, his mother going up with him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> -His father followed to the foot of the -stairs, then drifted away to his study -where he could lie in wait for Cyrus -on his way down. Pretty soon his -mother came into the "office" they've -given me—it's just off the drawing-room -so that I can be summoned to it the -instant any one comes to see Mrs. Burke.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i043.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p>"I've let his pa have him for a while," -she explained, as she came in. I saw -that she was full of her boy, so I turned -away from my books. She rambled on -about him for an hour, not knowing -what she was saying, but just pouring -out whatever came into her head. "His -pa has always said I'd spoil him," was -one of the things I remember, "but I -don't think love ever spoiled anybody." -Also she told me that his real name -wasn't Cyrus but Bucyrus, the town his -father originally came from—it's somewhere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> -in Ohio, I think she said. "And," -said she, "whenever I want to cut his -comb I just give him his name. He -tames right down." Also that he has -used all sorts of things on the cowlick -without success. "There it is, still," -said she, "as cross-grained as ever. I -like it about the best of anything, except -maybe his long legs. I'm a duck-leg -myself, and his pa—well, <i>his</i> legs -'just about reach the ground,' as Lincoln -said, and after that the less said the -sooner forgot. But Cyrus has <i>legs</i>. And -his cowlick matches a cowlick in his -disposition—a kind of gnarly knot that -you can't cut nor saw through nor get -round no way. It's been the saving of -him, he's so good-natured and easy -otherwise." And she went on to tell -how generous he is, "the only generous -small-eared person I've ever known,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> -though I must say I have my doubts -about ears as a sign. There was Bill -Slayback in our town, with ears like a -jack-rabbit, and whenever he had a poor -man do a job of work about his place -he used to pay him with a ninety-day -note and then shave the note."</p> - -<p>I was glad when she hurried away at -the sound of Cyrus in the hall. For a -huge lot of work there'll be for me to do -until I get things in some sort of order. -I've opened a regular set of books to -keep the social accounts in. Of course, -nobody who goes in for society, on the -scale we're going into it, could get along -without social bookkeeping as big as a -bank's. I pity the official women in the -high places who can't afford secretaries; -they must spend hours every night posting -and fussing with their account-books -when they ought to be in bed asleep.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>On my second day here "pa" Burke -explained what his plans were. "We -wish to make our house," said he, "the -most distinguished social center in Washington, -next to the White House—and -very democratic. Above all, Miss Talltowers, -democratic."</p> - -<p>"He don't mean that he wants us to -do our own work and send out the wash," -drawled "ma" Burke, who was sitting -by. "But democratic, with fourteen servants -in livery."</p> - -<p>"I understand," said I. "You wish -simplicity, and people to feel at ease, -Mr. Burke."</p> - -<p>"Exactly," he replied in a dubious -tone. "But I wish to maintain the—the -dignities, as it were."</p> - -<p>I saw he was afraid I might get the -idea he wanted something like those -rough-and-tumble public maulings of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> -the President that they have at the White -House. I hastened to reassure him; then -I explained my plan. I had drawn up a -system somewhat like those the President's -wife and the Cabinet women and -the other big entertainers have. I'm glad -the Burkes haven't any daughters. If -they had I'd certainly need an assistant. -As it is, I'm afraid I'll worry myself -hollow-eyed over my books.</p> - -<p>First, there's the Ledger—a real, big, -thick office ledger with almost four hundred -accounts in it, each one indexed. -Of course, there aren't any entries as yet. -But there soon will be—what we owe -various people in the way of entertainment, -what they've paid, and what they -owe us.</p> - -<p>Second, there's my Day-Book. It -contains each day's engagements so that -I can find out at a glance just what we've<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> -got to do, and can make out each night -before going to bed or early each morning -the schedule for Mrs. Burke for the -day, and for Senator Burke and the son, -I suppose, for the late afternoon and the -evening.</p> - -<p>Third, there's the Calling-Book. -Already I've got down more than a thousand -names. The obscurer the women -are—the back-district congressmen's -wives and the like—the greater the -necessity for keeping the calling account -straight. I wonder how many public -men have had their careers injured or -ruined just because their wives didn't -keep the calling account straight. They -say that <i>men</i> forgive slights, and, when -it's to their interest, forget them. But -I know the <i>women</i> never do. They keep -the knife sharp and wait for a chance -to stick it in, for years and years. Of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> -course, if the Burkes weren't going into -this business in a way that makes me -think the Senator's looking for the nomination -for president I shouldn't be so -elaborate. We'd pick out our set and -stick to it and ignore the other sets. As -it is, I'm going to do this thing thoroughly, -as it hasn't been done before.</p> - -<p>Fourth, there's our Ball-and-Big-Dinner -Book. That's got a list of all -the young men and another of all the -young women. And I'm making notes -against the names of those I don't know -very well or don't know at all—notes -about their personal appearance, eligibility, -capacities for dancing, conversation, -and so forth and so on. If you're going -to make an entertainment a success -you've got to know something more or -less definite about the people that are -coming, whom to ask to certain things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> -and whom not to ask. Take a man like -Phil Harkness, or a girl like Nell Witton, -for example. Either of them would -ruin a dinner, but Phil shines at a ball, -where silence and good steady dancing -are what the girls want. As for Nell, -she's possible at a ball only if you can be -sure John Rush or somebody like him -is coming—somebody to sit with her -and help her blink at the dancers and -be bored. Then there's the Sam Tremenger -sort of man—a good talker, but -something ruinous when he turns loose -in a ball-room and begins to batter the -women's toilets to bits. He's a dinner -man, but you can't ask him when politics -may be discussed—he gets so violent -that he not only talks all the time, but -makes a deafening clamor and uses swear -words—and we still have quiet people -who get gooseflesh for damn.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>Then there's—let me see, what number—oh, -yes—fifth, there's my Acceptance-and-Refusal -Book. It's most necessary, -both as a direct help and as an indirect -check on other books. Then, too, I -want it to be impossible to send the -Burkes to places they've said they -wouldn't go, or for them to be out -when they've asked people to come here. -Those things usually happen when -you've asked some of those dreadful -people that everybody always forgets, -yet that are sure to be important at -some critical time.</p> - -<p>Sixth, there's my Book of Home -Entertainments—a small book but most -necessary, as arranging entertainments -in the packed days of the Washington -season isn't easy.</p> - -<p>Seventh, there's the little book with -the list of entertainments other people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> -are going to give. We have to have -that so that we can know how to make -our plans. And in it I'm going to keep -all the information I can get about the -engagements of the people we particularly -want to ask. If I'm not sharp-eyed -about that I'll fail in one of my principal -duties, which is getting the right sort -of people under this roof often enough -during the season to give us "distinction."</p> - -<p>Eighth, there's my Distinguished-Stranger -Book. I'm going to make that -a specialty. I want to try to know -whenever anybody who is anybody is -here on a visit, so that we can get hold -of him if possible. The White House -can get all that sort of information easily -because the distinguished stranger -always gives the President a chance to -get at him. <i>We</i> shall have to make an -effort, but I think we'll succeed.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>Ninth—that's my book for press -notices. It's empty now, but I think -"pa" Burke will be satisfied long before -the season is over.</p> - -<p>Quite a library isn't it? How simple -it must be to live in a city like New -York or Boston where one bothers only -with the people of one set and has -practically no bookkeeping beyond a -calling list. And here it's getting worse -and worse each season.</p> - -<p>Let me see, how many sets are there? -There's the set that can say must to us—the -White House and the Cabinet and -the embassies. Then there's the set we -can say must to—a huge, big set and, -in a way, important, but there's nobody -really important in it. Then there's the -still wider lower official set—such people -as the under-secretaries of departments, -the attachés of embassies, small congressmen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> -and the like. Then there's the -old Washington aristocracy—my particular -crowd. It doesn't amount to -"shucks," as Mrs. Burke would say, but -everybody tries to be on good terms -with it, Lord knows why. Finally, -there's the set of unofficial people—the -rich or otherwise distinguished who live -in Washington and must be cultivated. -And we're going to gather in all of -them, so as not to miss a trick.</p> - -<p>The first one of the Burkes to whom -I showed my books and explained myself -in full was "ma" Burke. She looked -as if she had been taken with a "misery," -as she calls it. "Lord! Lord!" she -groaned. "Whatever have I got my -fool self into?"</p> - -<p>I laughed and assured her that it was -nothing at all. "I'm only showing you -<i>my</i> work. All you've got to do is to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> -carry out each day's work. I'll see to -it that you won't even have to bother -about what clothes to wear, unless you -want to. You'll be perfectly free to -enjoy yourself."</p> - -<p>"<i>Enjoy</i> myself?" said she. "Why, -I'll be on the jump from morning till -night."</p> - -<p>"From morning till morning again," -I corrected. "The men sleep in Washington. -But the women with social -duties have no time for sleep—only for -naps."</p> - -<p>"I reckon it'll hardly be worth while -to undress for bed," she said grimly. -"I'm going to have the bed taken out -of my room. It'd drive me crazy to -look at it. Such a good bed, too. I -always was a great hand for a good bed. -I've often said to pa that you can't put -too much value into a bed—and by bed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> -I don't mean headboard and footboard, -nor canopy nor any other fixings. What -do you think of my hair?"</p> - -<p>I was a bit startled by her sudden -change of subject. I waited.</p> - -<p>"Don't mind me—speak right out," -she said with her good-natured twinkle. -"You might think it wasn't my hair, -but it is. The color's not, though, as -you may be surprised to hear." The -"surprised" was broadly satirical.</p> - -<p>"I prefer natural hair," said I, "and -gray hair is most becoming. It makes a -woman look younger, not older."</p> - -<p>"That's sensible," said she. "I never -did care for bottled hair. I think it -looks bad from the set-off, and gets -worse. The widow Pfizer in our town -got so that hers was bright green after -she bottled it for two years, trying to -catch old man Coakley. And after she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> -caught him she bottled his, and it turned -out green, too, after a while."</p> - -<p>"Why run such a risk?" said I. "I'm -sure your own hair done as your maid -can do it would be far more becoming."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke was delighted. "I might -have known better," she observed, "but -I found Mr. Burke bottling his beard, -and he wanted me to; and it seemed to -me that somehow bottled hair just fitted -right in with all the rest of this foolishness -here. How they would rear round -at home if they knew what kind of a -place Washington is! Why, I hear that -up at the White House, when the President -leaves the table for a while during -meals, all the ladies—women, I mean—his -wife and all of them, have to rise -and stand till he comes back."</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied. "He's started that -custom. I like ceremony, don't you?"</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>"No, I can't say that I do," she -drawled. "Out home all the drones and -pokes and nobodies are just crazy about -getting out in feathers and red plush -aprons and clanking and pawing round, -trying to make out they're somebody. -And I've always noticed that whenever -anybody that is a somebody hankers after -that sort of thing it's because he's got a -streak of nobody in him. No, I don't -like it in Cal Walters out home, and I -don't like it in the President."</p> - -<p>"We've got to do as the other capitals -do," said I. "Naturally, as we get -more and more ambassadors, and a bigger -army, and the President more powerful, -we become like the European -courts. And the President is simply -making a change abruptly that'd have -to come gradually anyhow."</p> - -<p>Her eyes began to twinkle. "First<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> -thing you know, the country'll turn loose -a herd of steers from the prairies in this -town, and—But, long as it's here, I -suppose I've got to abide by it. So I'll -do whatever you say. It'll be a poor do, -without my trying to find fault."</p> - -<p>And she's being as good as her word. -She makes me tell her exactly what to -do. She is so beautifully simple and -ladylike in her frank confessions of her -ignorance—just as the Queen of England -would be if she were to land on -the planet Mars and have to learn the -ways—the surface ways, I mean. I've -no doubt that outside of a few frills -which silly people make a great fuss -about, a lady is a lady from one end of -the universe to the other.</p> - -<p>I'm making the rounds of my friends -with Mrs. Burke in this period of waiting -for the season to begin. And she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> -sits mum and keeps her eyes moving. -She's rapidly picking up the right way -to say things—that is, the self-assurance -to say things in her own way. I took -her among my friends first because I -wanted her to realize that I was absolutely -right in urging her to naturalness. -There are so many in the different sets -she'll be brought into contact with who -are ludicrously self-conscious. Certainly, -there's much truth in what she says -about the new order. We Americans -don't do the European sort of thing -well, and, while the old way wasn't -pretty to look at it, it was—it was our -own. However, I'm merely a social -secretary, dealing with what is, and not -bothering my head about what ought -to be. And as for the Burkes, they're -here to take advantage of what is, not -to revolutionize things.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>Mr. Burke himself was the next member -of the family at whom I got a chance -with my great plans. When he had got -it all out of me he began to pace up and -down the floor, pulling at his whiskers, -and evidently thinking. Finally he -looked at me in a kindly, sharp way, -and, in a voice I recognized at once as -the voice of the Thomas Burke who -had been able to pile up a fortune and -buy into the Senate, said:</p> - -<p>"I double your salary, Miss Talltowers. -And I hope you understand -that expense isn't to be considered in -carrying out your program. I want you -to act just as if this were all for yourself. -And if we succeed I think you'll -find I'm not ungenerous." And before -I could try to thank him he was gone.</p> - -<p>The last member was "Bucyrus." -As I knew his parents wished to be alone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -with him at first I kept out of the way, -breakfasting in my rooms, lunching and -dining out a great deal. What little I -saw of him I didn't like. He ignored -me most of the time—and I, for one -woman, don't like to be ignored by any -man. When he did speak to me it was -as they speak to the governess in families -where they haven't been used to -very much for very long. Perhaps this -piqued me a little, but it certainly -amused me, and I spoke to him in an -humble, deferential way that seemed -somehow to make him uneasy.</p> - -<p>It was day before yesterday that he -came into my office about an hour after -luncheon. He tried to look very dignified -and superior.</p> - -<p>"Miss Talltowers," he said, "I must -request you to refrain from calling me -sir whenever you address me."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>"I beg your pardon, sir," I replied -meekly, "but I have never addressed -you. I hope I know my place and my -duty better than that. Oh, no, sir, I -have always waited to be spoken to."</p> - -<p>He blazed a furious red. "I must -request you," he said, with his speech -at its most fancy-work like, "not to -continue your present manner toward -me. Why, the very servants are laughing -at me."</p> - -<p>"Oh, sir," I said earnestly, "I'm sure -that's not my fault." And I didn't spoil -it by putting accent on the "that" and -the "my."</p> - -<p>He got as pale as he had been red. -"Are you trying to make it impossible -for us to remain under the same roof?" -he demanded. What a spoiled stupid!</p> - -<p>"I'm sure, sir," said I, and I think -my eyes must have shown what an unpleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -mood his hinted threat had put -me in, "that I'm not even succeeding -in making it impossible for us to remain -in my private office at the same time. -Do you understand me, or do you wish -me to make my meaning—"</p> - -<p>He had given a sort of snort and had -rushed from the room.</p> - -<p>I suppose I ought to be more charitable -toward him. A small person, -brought up to regard himself as a sort -of god, and able to buy flattery, and permitted -to act precisely as his humors -might suggest—what is to be expected -of such a man? No, not a man but boy, -for he's only twenty-six. <i>Only</i> twenty-six! -One would think I was forty to -hear me talking in that way of twenty-six. -But women always seem older than -men who are even many years older -than they. And how having to earn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> -my own bread has aged me inside! I -think Jessie was right when she said in -that solemn way of hers, "And although, -dear Augusta, they may think you -haven't brains enough, I assure you -you'll develop them." Poor, dear Jessie! -How she would amuse herself if she -could be as she is, and also have a sense -of humor!</p> - -<p>At any rate, Mr. Bucyrus came striding -back after half an hour, and, rather -surlily but with a certain grudging manliness, -said: "I beg your pardon, Miss -Talltowers, for what I said. I am -ashamed of my having forgotten myself -and made that tyrannical speech to you."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, sir," said I, without -raising my eyes. "You are most gracious."</p> - -<p>"And I hope," he went on, "that you -will try to treat me as an equal."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>"It'll be very hard to do that, sir," -said I. And I lifted my eyes and let -him see that I was laughing at him.</p> - -<p>He shifted uneasily, red and white by -turns. "I think you understand me," -he muttered.</p> - -<p>"Perfectly," said I.</p> - -<p>He waved his arm impatiently. -"Please don't!" he exclaimed rather -imperiously. "I could have got my -mother to—"</p> - -<p>"I hope you won't complain of me -to your mother," I pleaded.</p> - -<p>He flushed and snorted, like a horse -that is being teased by a fly it can reach -with neither teeth, hoofs nor tail. "You -know I didn't mean that. I'm not an -utter cad—now, don't say, 'Aren't you, -sir?'"</p> - -<p>"I had no intention of doing so," -said I. "In fact I've been trying to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> -make allowances for you—for your -mother's sake. I appreciate that you've -been away from civilization for a long -time. And I'm sure we shall get on -comfortably, once you've got your bearings -again."</p> - -<p>He was silent, stood biting his lips -and looking out of the window. Presently, -when I had resumed my work, -he said in an endurable tone and manner: -"I hope you will be kind enough -to include me in that admirable social -scheme of yours. Are those your -books?"</p> - -<p>I explained them to him as briefly -as I could. I had no intention of making -myself obnoxious, but on the other -hand I did not, and do not purpose to -go out of my way to be courteous to -this silly of an overgrown, spoiled baby. -He tried to be nice in praise of my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> -system, but I got rid of him as soon as -I had explained all that my obligations -as social secretary to the family required. -He thanked me as he was leaving and -said, in his most gracious tone, "I shall -see that my father raises your salary."</p> - -<p>I fairly gasped at the impudence of -this, but before I could collect myself -properly to deal with him he was gone. -Perhaps it was just as well. I must be -careful not to be "sensitive"—that -would make me as ridiculous as he is.</p> - -<p>And that's the man Jim Lafollette is -fairly smoking with jealousy of! He -was dining at Rachel's last night, and -Rachel put him next me. He couldn't -keep off the subject of "that young -Burke." Jessie overheard him after a -while and leaned round and said to me, -"How do you and young Mr. Burke -get on?" in her "strictly private" manner—Jessie's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> -strictly private manner is -about as private as the Monument.</p> - -<p>"Not badly," I replied, to punish Jim. -"We're gradually getting acquainted."</p> - -<p>Jim sneered under his mustache. "It's -the most shameful scheme two women -ever put up," he said, as if he were -joking.</p> - -<p>"Oh, has Jessie told you?" I exclaimed, -pretending to be concealing -my vexation.</p> - -<p>"It's the talk of the town," he -answered, showing his teeth in a grin -that was all fury and no fun.</p> - -<p>There may be women idiots enough -to marry a man who warns them in -advance that he's rabidly jealous, but -I'm not one of them. Better a crust -in quietness.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">III</h2></div> - - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">December</span> 27. Three weeks -simply boiling with business -since I wrote here—and it seems -not more than so many days. And all -by way of preparation, for the actual -season is still five days away.</p> - -<p>I can hardly realize that Mrs. Burke -is the same person I looked at so dubiously -two days less than a month ago. -Truly, the right sort of us Americans -are wonderful people. To begin with -her appearance: her hair isn't "bottled," -as she called it, any more. It's beautiful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> -iron-gray, and softens her features -and permits all the placid kindliness and -humor of her face to show. Then there's -her dress—gracious, how tight-looking -she was! A <i>thin</i> woman can, and should, -wear <i>close</i> things. But no woman who -wishes to look like a lady must ever -wear anything <i>tight</i>. To be tight in one's -clothes is to be tight in one's talk, manner, -thought—and that means—well, -common. What an expressive word -"common" is, yet I'm sure I couldn't -define it.</p> - -<p>For a fat woman to be tight is—revolting! -My idea of misery is a fat -woman in a tight waist and tight shoes. -Yet fat women have a mania for wearing -tight things, just as gaunt women -yearn for stripes and short women for -flounces. My first move in getting Mrs. -Burke into shape—after doing away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> -with that dreadful "bottled" hair—was -to put her into comfortable clothes. -The first time I got her into an evening -dress of the right sort I was rewarded -for all my trouble by her expression. -She kissed me with tears in her eyes. -"My dear," said she, "never before did -I have a best dress that I wasn't afraid -to breathe in for fear I'd bust out, back -or front." Then I made her sit down -before her long glass and look at herself -carefully. She had the prettiest kind -of color in her cheeks as she smiled at -me and said: "If I'd 'a' looked like this -when I was young I reckon Mr. Burke -wouldn't 'a' been so easy in his mind -when he went away from home, nor -'a' stayed so long. I always did sympathize -with pretty women when they -capered round, but now I wonder they -ever do sober down. If I weighed a hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> -pounds or so less I do believe I'd -try to frisk yet."</p> - -<p>And I do believe she could; for she's -really a handsome woman. Why is it -that the women who have the most to -them don't give it a chance to show -through, but get themselves up so that -anybody who glances at them tries -never to look again?</p> - -<p>It is the change in her appearance -even more than all she's learned that -has given her self-confidence. She feels -at ease—and that puts her at ease, and -puts everybody else at ease, too. It has -reacted upon Mr. Burke. He has -dropped brilliantine—perhaps "ma" -gave him a quiet hint—and he has taken -some lessons in dress from "Cyrus," who -really gets himself up very well, considering -that he has lived in Germany -for three years. I should have hopes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> -that "pa" would blossom out into something -very attractive socially if he -hadn't a deep-seated notion that he is -a great joker. A naturally serious man -who tries to be funny is about the most -painful object in civilization. Still, -Washington is full of statesmen and -scholars who try to unbend and be -"light," especially with "the ladies." -Nothing makes me—or any other -woman, I suppose—so angry as for a -man to show that he takes me for a fool -by making a grinning galoot of himself -whenever he talks to me. Bucyrus is -much that kind of ass. He alternates -between solemnity and silliness.</p> - -<p>I said rather pointedly to him the -other night: "You men with your great, -deep minds make a mistake in changing -your manner when you talk with -the women and the children. Nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> -pleases us so much as to be taken seriously." -But it didn't touch him. However, -he's hardly to blame. He's spent -a great many years round institutions of -learning, and in those places, I've noticed, -every one has a musty, fusty sense -of humor. Probably it comes from -cackling at classical jokes that have -laughed themselves as dry as a mummy.</p> - -<p>We've been giving a few entertainments—informal -and not large, but -highly important. I had two objects in -mind: In the first place, to get Mr. and -Mrs. Burke accustomed to the style of -hospitality they've got to give if they're -going to win out. In the second place, -to get certain of the kind of people who -are necessary to us in the habit of coming -to this house—and those people are -not so very hard to get hold of now; -later they'll be engaged day and night.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>For two weeks now I've had my two -especial features going. One of them -is for the men, the other for the women. -And I can see already that they alone -would carry us through triumphantly; -for they've caught on.</p> - -<p>My men's feature is a breakfast. I -engaged a particularly good cook—the -best old-fashioned Southern cook in -Washington. Rachel had her, and I -persuaded Mr. Derby to consent to giving -her up to us, just for this season. -Cleopatra—that's her name—has nothing -to do but get together every morning -by nine o'clock the grandest kind -of an old-fashioned American breakfast. -And I explained to Senator Burke that -he was to invite some of his colleagues, -as many as he liked, and tell them to -come any morning, or every morning -if they wished, and bring their friends.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>I consult with Cleopatra every day -as to what she's to have the next morning; -and I think dear old father taught -me what kind of breakfast men like. I -don't give them too much, or they'd -be afraid to come and risk indigestion -a second time. I see to it that everything -is perfectly cooked—and it's pretty -hard for any man to get indigestion, -even from corned beef hash and hot -cornbread and buckwheat cakes with -maple syrup, if it's perfectly cooked and -is eaten in a cheerful frame of mind. -No women are permitted at these breakfasts—just -men, with everything free -and easy, plenty to smoke, separate tables, -but each large enough so that there's -always room at any one of them for one -more who might otherwise be uncomfortable. -Even now we have from -fifteen to twenty men—among them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> -the very best in Washington. In the -season we'll have thirty and forty, and -our house will be a regular club from -nine to eleven for just the right men.</p> - -<p>My other big feature is an informal -dance every Wednesday night. It's -already as great a success in its way as -the breakfasts are in theirs. I've been -rather careful about whom I let Mrs. -Burke invite to come in on Wednesdays -whenever they like. The result is that -everybody is pleased; the affairs seem to -be "exclusive," yet are not. I know it -will do the Burkes a world of good -politically, because a certain kind of -people who are important politically -but have had no chance socially are -coming to us on Wednesdays, and that's -just the kind of people who are frantically -flattered by the idea that they are -"in the push."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>Speaking of being "in the push," -there are two ways of getting there if -one isn't there. One is to worm your -way in; the other is to make yourself -the head and front of "the push." -That's the way for those who have -money and know how. And that's the -way the Burkes are getting in—getting -in at the front instead of at the rear.</p> - -<p>It's most gratifying to see how Mr. -Burke treats me. He always has been -deferential, but he now shows that he -thinks I have real brains. And since his -breakfasts have become the talk of the -town and are "patronized" by the men -he's so eager to get hold of, he is even -consulting me about his business. I am -criticizing for him now a speech he's -going to make on the canal question -next month—a dreadfully dull speech, -and I don't feel competent to tell him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> -what to do with it. I think I'll advise -him not to make it, tell him his forte -is diplomacy—winning men round by -personal dealing with them—which is -the truth.</p> - -<p>Young Mr. Burke—after a period of -unbending—is now shyer than ever. I -wondered why, until it happened to occur -to me one day as I was talking with -Jessie. I suddenly said to her: "Jessie, -did you ever tell Nadeshda that you had -planned to marry me to Cyrus Burke?"</p> - -<p>She hopped about in her chair a bit, -as uneasy as a bird on a swaying perch. -Then she confessed that she "might have -suggested before Nadeshda what a delightfully -satisfactory thing it would be."</p> - -<p>I laughed to relieve her mind—also -because it amused me to see through -Nadeshda.</p> - -<p>Of course, one of the women I needed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> -most in this Burke campaign was Nadeshda. -And I happened to know that -she is bent on marrying a rich American—indeed, -that's the only reason why -the wilds of America are favored with -the presence of the beautiful, joy-loving, -courted and adored Baroness Nadeshda -Daragane. The yarn about her sister, -the ambassadress, being an invalid and -shrinking from the heavy social responsibilities -of the embassy is just so much -trash. So, as soon as "Cyrus" came I -went over to see her, and, as diplomatically -as I knew how, displayed before -her dazzled eyes the substantial advantages -of the sole heir of the great Western -multi-millionaire.</p> - -<p>As I went on to tell how generous -the Senator is, and how certain he would -be to lavish wealth upon his daughter-in-law, -I could see her mind at work.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> -A fascinating, naughty, treacherous little -mind it is—like a small Swiss watch -of the rarest workmanship and full of -wheels within wheels. And she's a -beautiful little creature, as warm as a -tropical sun to look at, and about as -cold as the Arctic regions to deal with. -No, I haven't begun to describe her. -I'd not be surprised to hear that she had -eloped with her brother-in-law's coachman; -nor should I be surprised to hear -that she had married the most hideous, -revolting man in the world for his money, -and was suspected of being engaged in -trying to hasten him off to the grave. -She's of the queer sort that would kiss -or kill with equal enthusiasm, capable -of almost any virtue or vice—on impulse. -If there's any part of her beneath the -impulsive part it's solid ice in a frame -of steel. But—is there? She's talked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> -about a good deal—not a tenth enough -to satisfy her craving for notoriety, and, -I may add, not a tenth part so much as -she deserves to be, and would be if we -studied character on this side of the -water instead of being too busy with -ourselves to look beyond anybody else's -surface.</p> - -<p>Well, the Baroness Nadeshda has been -wild about the Burkes ever since we had -our talk. And she has Mr. Cyrus thoroughly -tangled in her nets, and the Senator, -too. And, naturally, she lost no -time in trying to "do" me. She has -told Bucyrus what a designing creature -I am—no doubt has warned him that if -I seem distant to him I'm at my deadliest, -and to look out for mines. He -certainly is looking out for them, for, -whenever I speak to him, he acts as if -he were stepping round on a volcano.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> -I'm having a good deal of fun with -him. I wish I had the time; I'd try to -teach him a very valuable lesson. Really, -it's a shame to let a man go through life -imagining that he's an all-conqueror, -when in reality the woman who marries -him will feel that she's swallowing about -as bitter a dose as Fate ever presented -to feminine lips in a gold spoon.</p> - -<p>Dear old "ma" Burke hasn't yet -yielded to Nadeshda's blandishments. -We went to the embassy to call yesterday -afternoon at tea-time, and I saw her -watching Nadeshda in that smiling, -simple way of hers that conceals about -as keen a brain as I shouldn't care to -have tearing me to pieces for inspection.</p> - -<p>The embassy at tea-time is always -wild. For then Sophie comes in with -her monkey and Nadeshda's seven dogs -are racing about. And the Count always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> -laughs loudly, usually at nothing at all. -And each time he laughs the dogs bark -until the monkey in a great fright dashes -up the curtains or flings himself at Sophie -and almost strangles her with his paws -or arms, or whatever they are, round -her neck. I don't think I've ever been -there that something hasn't been spilt -for a huge mess; often the whole tea-table -topples over. Mrs. Burke loves to -go, for afterward she laughs a dozen -times a day until her sides ache.</p> - -<p>As we came away yesterday I said to -her: "What a fascinating, beautiful -creature Nadeshda is!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke smiled. "When I was a -girl," she said, "I had a catamount for -a pet—a cub, and they had cut his -claws. He was beautiful and mighty -fascinating—you never did know when -he was going to fawn on you and when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> -he was going to fasten his teeth in you. -The baroness puts me in mind of my -old pet, and how I didn't know which -was harder—to keep him or to give -him up."</p> - -<p>"She certainly has a strange nature," -said I.</p> - -<p>After a pause Mrs. Burke went on: -"She's the queerest animal in this menagerie -here, so far as I've seen. And I -don't think I'm wrong in suspecting -she's sitting up to Cyrus."</p> - -<p>"I don't wonder he finds her interesting," -said I.</p> - -<p>"Cyrus is just like his pa," said she, -"a mighty poor judge of women. It -was lucky for his pa that he married -and settled down before he had much -glitter to catch the eyes of the women. -Otherwise, he'd 'a' made a ridiculous -fool of himself. But I like a man the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> -women can fool easy. That shows he's -honest. These fellows who are so sharp -at getting on to the tricks of the women -ain't, as a rule, good for much else. But -Cyrus has got <i>me</i> to look after him."</p> - -<p>"He might do much worse than -marry Nadeshda," said I.</p> - -<p>"That's what his pa says," she replied. -"But I ain't got round to these new-fashioned -notions of marriage. I want -to see my Cyrus married to the sort of -woman his ma'd like and be proud to -have for the mother of her grand-children. -And I ain't altogether sure we -need the kind of tone in our blood that -a catamount'd bring. Though I must -say a year or so of living with a catamount -might do Cyrus a world of good."</p> - -<p>Which shows that even love can't -altogether blind "ma" Burke.</p> - -<p>January 3. I had to do a little scheming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> -to get Mrs. Burke an invitation to -assist at the New Year's reception. It's -always the first event of the season, and, -though it would have been no great -matter if I hadn't been able to get her -in among those who stand near the -President's wife and the Cabinet women, -still I felt that I couldn't get my "pulls" -into working order any too soon. Ever -since the second week in my "job" I've -realized that nothing could be easier than -to put the Burkes well to the front, but -my ambition to make them first calls for -the exertion of every energy.</p> - -<p>So, in the third week of December I -set Rachel at Mrs. Senator Lumley and -Mrs. Admiral Bixby—two women who -can get almost anything in reason out -of the President's wife. Rachel is about -the most important woman in the old -Washington aristocracy, and the Lumleys<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> -and the Bixbys are in the nature of -fixtures here, not at all like an evanescent -President or Cabinet person. So -Rachel's request set the two women to -work. And although the President's -wife said she'd asked all she intended to -ask, far too many, and didn't see why -on earth she should be beset for a newcomer -who had been reported to her -as fat and impossible, still she finally -yielded.</p> - -<p>I hadn't hoped to get an invitation -for them for the Cabinet dinner, and I -was astounded when it came. We had -arranged to give a rather large informal -dinner that night and had to call it off, -as an invitation from the White House, -even from the obscurest member of the -President's family for any old function -whatever, is a command that may not -be disobeyed. Well, as I was saying, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> -invitation to the Cabinet dinner came -unsought. It seems that the Burke -breakfasts are making a great stir politically; -so great a stir that they have -made the President a little uneasy. Of -course, the best way to get rid of an -opponent is to conciliate him. Hence -the royal command to Senator and Mrs. -Burke to appear at his Majesty's dinner -to his Majesty's ministers.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke is tremendously proud of -her first two communications from the -White House. As for the Senator, he -looks at them half a dozen times a day.</p> - -<p>I went down to the New Year's reception -to see how "ma" was getting -on. As I had expected, she didn't stand -very long. She cast about for a chair, -and, seeing one, planted herself. Soon -the Baroness joined her, and young -Prince Krepousky joined Nadeshda, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> -then General Martin, who loves Mrs. -Burke for the feeds she gives. The -group grew, and Mrs. Burke began to -talk in her drawling, humorous way, -and Nadeshda laughed, which made the -others laugh—for it's impossible to -resist Nadeshda. When I arrived Mrs. -Burke was "right in it."</p> - -<p>And after a while the President came -and said: "Is this your reception, madam, -or is it mine?" At which there was -more laughing, he raising a great guffaw -and slapping his hip with his powerful -hand. Then they all went up to have -something to eat, and the President spent -most of the time with her.</p> - -<p>She doesn't need any more coaching. -Of course, she's flattered by her success. -But instead of having her head turned, -as most women do who get the least bit -of especial attention from the conspicuous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> -men here, she takes it all very placidly. -"They don't care shucks for me," -she says, "and I know it. We're all in -business together, and I'm mighty glad -it can be carried on so cheerful-like." -At the Cabinet dinner, to-morrow night, -she'll have to sit well down toward the -foot of the table. But she won't mind -that. Indeed, if I hadn't been giving -her lessons in precedence she wouldn't -have an idea that everything here is -arranged by rank.</p> - -<p>Jessie—so she tells me—had a half-hour's -session with "Cyrus" the other -day and gave him a very exalted idea of -my social position and influence. No -doubt, what she said confirmed his suspicion -that I and my friends are conspiring -against him; but I observe a -distinct change in his manner toward -me. He's even humble. I suppose he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> -thought I was some miserable creature -whom his mother had taken on, half -out of charity. I'm afraid I have a sort -of family pride that's a little ridiculous—but -I can't help it. Still, I am American -enough to despise people who are -courteous or otherwise, according as they -look up to or look down on the particular -person's family and position. I guess -young Mr. Burke is his father in an aggravated -form. Yet Jessie, and Rachel, -too, pretend to like him. And probably -they really do—it's not hard to like any -one who is not asking favors and is in -a position to grant them, and isn't so -near to one that his quills stick into one.</p> - -<p>The Countess of Wend came in to -see me this afternoon and told me all -about the row over at the legation. It -seems that the new minister is a plebeian, -and in their country people of his sort<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> -aren't noticed by the upper classes unless -an upper-class man happens to need -something to wipe his boots on and one -of them is convenient for use. Well, -every attaché is in a fury, and none of -them will speak to the minister except -in the most formal way and only when -it's absolutely necessary. As for the -minister's wife, the other women—but -what's the use of describing it; we -all know how nasty women can be about -matters of rank. The Count is talking -seriously of resigning. I'd be dreadfully -sorry, as Eugenie is a dear, more -like an American than a foreigner; and -I believe she really likes us, where most -of them privately despise us as a lot of -low-born upstarts. I know they laugh -all day long at the President's queer -manners and mannerisms—but then, so -do we, for that matter. And it's quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> -unusual for Washington, where each -President is bowed down to and praised -everywhere and flattered till he thinks -he's a sort of god—and forgotten as -soon as his term is ended. I suppose -there's nothing deader on this earth -than an ex-President, with no offices to -distribute and no hopes for a further -political career.</p> - -<p>January 9. We had a beautiful dinner -here last night—very brilliant too, -as we all were going to a ball at the -Russian embassy afterward. All the -diplomats and army men were in uniform—and -one or two of the army men -were really brilliant. But none of the -diplomats. They say that no nation -sends us its best or even its second best. -It seems that diplomats don't amount -to much in this day of cables. Those -who have any intelligence naturally go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> -to courts, where the atmosphere is congenial -and where there are chances for -decorations. So we get only the stiffs -and stuffs—with a few exceptions. If it -weren't for their women—</p> - -<p>But, to return to our dinner—Mrs. -Burke went in with the German ambassador, -and I saw that they were getting -on famously. He is a very clever -man in a small way, and has almost an -American sense of humor. As soon as -he saw that she intended what she said -to be laughed at he gave himself up to -it. "Your Mrs. Burke is charming, -Miss Talltowers," said he to me after -dinner. "She ranks with Bret Harte -and Mark Twain. It's only in America -that you find old women who make -you forget to wish you were with young -and pretty women."</p> - -<p>Jim Lafollette took me in—the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> -time I've had him here. I must say he -behaved very well and was the handsomest -man in the room. But he never -has much to say that is worth hearing. -Though conversation at Washington in -society isn't on any too high a plane, -as a rule—how could conversation in a -mixed society anywhere be very high?—still -it isn't the wishy-washy chatter -and gossip that Jim Lafollette delights -in. Of course, army officers almost -always go in for gossip—that comes -from sitting round with their women -at lonely posts where nothing occurs. -And they, as a rule, either gossip or -simply drivel when they talk to women, -because all the women that ever liked -them liked them for their brass buttons, -and all the women they ever liked they -liked for their pretty faces and empty -heads. So, usually, to get an army officer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> -at dinner is to sit with a bowl of -soft taffy held to your lips and a huge -spoonful of it thrust into your mouth -every time you stop talking. That's -true of many of the statesmen, too, especially -the heavyweights. I suppose -I'm wrong, but I can't help suspecting -a man without a sense of humor of being -a solemn fraud.</p> - -<p>You'd think American women, at the -capital, at least, would be interested in -politics. But they're not. They say it's -the vulgarity of the intriguing and of -most of the best intriguers that makes -them dislike politics, even here. I suspect -there's another reason. We women are -so petted by the men that we don't have -to know anything to make ourselves -agreeable. If we're pretty and listen -well that's all that's necessary. So, why -get headaches learning things?</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>Of course, there are exceptions. Take -Maggie Shotwell. Her husband is a -wag-eared ass. Yet in eleven years she -has advanced him from second secretary -to minister to a second-class power just -by showing up here at intervals and -playing the game intelligently. And -there are scores of army women who do -as well in a smaller way, and a few of -the diplomats' wives are most adroit, -intriguing well both here and at their -homes in a nice, clean way, as intrigue -goes.</p> - -<p>But most of the women are like -"ma" Burke, who'd as soon think of -entering for a foot-race as of interfering -in her husband's political affairs in any -way, beyond giving him some sound -advice about the men that can be trusted -and the men that can't. I suppose if -there were real careers in public life in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> -this country, not dependent upon elections, -the Washington women wouldn't -be so lazy and indifferent, but would -wake up and intrigue their brothers and -sons and other male relatives into all -sorts of things. Then, too, a man has -to vote with his "party" on everything -that's important, and his "party" is a -small group of old men who are beyond -social blandishments and go to bed early -every night and associate only with men -in the daytime.</p> - -<p>No, we women don't amount to much -<i>directly</i> at Washington. If Jim Lafollette -had kept away from the women -and society he might have amounted -to something. It's become a proverb -that whenever a young man comes here -and goes in for the social end of it he -is doomed soon to disappear and be -heard of no more. The President is trying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> -to make society amount to something, -but he won't succeed. Whatever -benefit there may be in it will go, not -to him, but to men like Senator Burke. -He doesn't go any more than he can -help, except to his own breakfasts. But -he sends his wife, and so, without wasting -any of his time, he makes himself -prominent in a very short space of time -and gets all the big social indirect influence—the -influence of the women on -their husbands.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke's younger brother, Robert -Gunton, arrived last night. He reminds -me of her, but he's slender and very active—a -shabby sort of person, clean but -careless, and he looks as if he had so -many other things to think about that -he hadn't time to think about himself. -He looks younger and talks older than -his years. He's here to get some sort<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> -of patent through; he won't permit his -brother-in-law to assist him; he refuses -to go anywhere—in society, I mean. -We rode up to the Capitol together in a -street-car this morning, and I liked him.</p> - -<p>"Why do you ride in a street-car?" -he asked.</p> - -<p>"Because it's not considered good -form to use carriages too much," I replied. -"It might rouse the envy of -those who can't afford carriages."</p> - -<p>"Then it isn't because you don't want -to, but because you don't dare to?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said I. "But things are changing -rapidly. The rich people who live -here but care nothing for politics are -gradually introducing class distinctions."</p> - -<p>"You mean, poor people who like to -fawn upon and hate the rich are introducing -class distinctions," he corrected.</p> - -<p>He is thirty-two years old; he treats<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> -a woman as if she were a man, and -he treats a man as if he himself were -one. It isn't possible not to like that -sort of human being.</p> - -<p>Invitations are beginning to come in -floods—invitations for the big, formal -things for which people are asked weeks -in advance. And we are getting a splendid -percentage of acceptances for our big -affairs, thanks to my taking the trouble -to find out the freest dates in the season. -If all goes well, before another -month, as soon as it gets round that we -are going to give something big in a -short time, lots of pretty good people will -be holding off from accepting other -things in the hope that they're on our -list.</p> - -<p>Certainly, there's a good deal in going -about anything in a systematic way—even -a social launching.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">IV</h2></div> - - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">January</span> 12. We are all sleeping -so badly. Even the Senator, whom -nothing has ever before kept from -his "proper rest," is complaining of -wakefulness. Suppers every night either -here or elsewhere, the house never quiet -until two or three in the morning, all -of us up at eight—Cyrus often at seven -because he rides a good deal, and the -early morning is the only time when -any one in Washington in the season -can find time to ride. "It's worse than -the Wilderness campaign," said Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> -Burke, who was a lieutenant in the war. -"For now and then, between battles and -skirmishes, we did get plenty of sleep. -This is a continuous battle day and night, -week in and week out, with no let-up -for Sundays." And Mrs. Burke—poor -"ma!" How hollow-eyed and sagged-cheeked -she is getting with the real season -less than two weeks old! She says: -"I wouldn't treat a dog as I treat myself. -I no sooner get to sleep than they -wake me. I think the servants just delight -to wake me, and I don't blame -them, for they're worse off than we are, -though I do try to be as easy on them -as possible." She doesn't know how -many long naps they take while she's -dragging herself from place to place.</p> - -<p>On our way to the White House to -a musicale she fell asleep. As we rolled -up to the entrance I had to wake her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> -She came to with a sort of groan and -gave a ludicrously pitiful glance at the -attendant who was impatiently waiting. -"Oh, Lord!" she muttered. "I was -dreaming I was in bed, and it ain't so. -Instead, I've got to enjoy myself." And -then she gave a dreary laugh.</p> - -<p>"Ma" Burke dozed through the musicale -with a pleasant smile on her large -face and her head keeping time to the -music. When we spoke to the President -and he said he hoped she'd "enjoyed -herself," she drawled: "I did that, -Mr. President! I only wish it had been -longer—I'm 'way behind on sleep." He -laughed uproariously. It's the fashion -to laugh at everything "ma" says now, -because the German ambassador tells -every one what a wit she is. And who'd -fail to laugh at wit admired by an ambassador?</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>Writing about sleep has driven off -my fit of wakefulness. I'll only add -that Lu Frayne's in town, working day -and night to get her husband transferred -from San Francisco to the War Department -here. I think she'll win out, as -she's got two Senators who've been -frightening the President by acting -queerly lately. It's too funny! When -the new Administration came every one -was scared because the rumor got round -that he was going to give us a repetition -of the Cleveland nightmare. But -there was nothing in it; the only "pulls" -that have failed to work are those that -were strong with the last Administration, -and there's a whole crop of new -pulls. Well, at least, the right sort of -people, those who have family and position, -are getting their rights to preference -as they never did before. We've<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> -not had many Presidents who knew the -right sort of people even when they've -been willing to please them, if they -could pick them out.</p> - -<p>What a changed Washington it is: -so many formalities; so many rich people; -so many rich men, and men of -family and position in office; so many -big, fine houses and English and French -servants. "Such a stylishness!"</p> - -<p>January 14. Our first big dance last -night—I mean, formal dance to show our -strength. Everybody was here, and the -dinner beforehand and the supper afterward -and all the mechanical arrangements, -so to speak, were perfect. The -ball-room was a sight—even "ma" Burke, -tired to death, perked up. Almost all -the diplomats, except those nobody -asks, were here. And I don't think -more than thirty people we hadn't invited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> -ventured to come. We were all -so excited that, after the last people had -gone, we sat round for nearly an hour. -"Ma" Burke took me in her arms and -kissed me. "It was your ball," said she. -"But then, everything we get credit for -is all yours; ain't it, pa?"</p> - -<p>"Miss Talltowers has certainly done -wonderfully," said "pa" in his cautious, -judicial way. Then he seemed ashamed -of himself, as if he had been ungenerous, -and shook hands with me and added: -"Thank you, thank you, Miss Augusta—if -you'll permit me the liberty of calling -you so."</p> - -<p>"I never expected to see as pretty a -girl as you bothering to have brains," -Mrs. Burke went on to say. And for -the first time in weeks and weeks it occurred -to me that I did have a personal -existence apart from my work—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> -books and bookkeeping, the servants and -the housekeeper, who is only one more -to fuss with, the tradespeople, and musicians, -and singers, and florists, and—it -makes my head whirl to try to recall -the awful list.</p> - -<p>"She won't be pretty very long," said -Cyrus—he's taking lessons of his mother -and is dropping his fancy-work speech -and his "made-in-Germany" manners—"if -she don't stop working day <i>and</i> -night."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm amusing myself," replied -I; but I was reminded how weary I -felt, and went away to bed. I neglected -to close my sitting-room door, and as I -was getting ready for bed in my dressing-room -I couldn't help overhearing -a scrap of talk between Cyrus and Mr. -Gunton as they went along the hall on -the way to their apartments.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>"The Tevises were disgusting—they -showed their envy so plainly," Cyrus -said. The Tevises are trying hard to do -what we're doing in a social way, and -though they must have even more -money than the Burkes, they're failing -at it.</p> - -<p>"They'll never get anywhere," Mr. -Gunton replied. "You can't collect -much of a crowd of nice people just to -watch you spend money. You've got -to give them a real show. There's where -Miss Talltowers comes in."</p> - -<p>"She has wonderful taste and originality," -said Cyrus. Cyrus!</p> - -<p>Mr. Gunton sat out most of the evening -with Nadeshda. I suppose she was -trying to make Cyrus jealous and also -to create trouble between him and his -uncle. I've not seen a franker flirtation -even in Washington. Whenever I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> -chanced to look at them, Mr. Gunton -was talking earnestly, and she seemed -to be hanging to his words like a thirsty -bird to a water-pan. And her queer, -subtle face was—well, it was beautiful, -and gave me that sense of the wild and -fierce and uncanny which makes her -both fascinating and terrible. I think -Mr. Gunton was infatuated—indeed, I -know it. For when I spoke of her to -him this morning his eyes seemed to -blaze. He drew a long breath. "A -wonder-woman!" he said. "I never -saw anything like her—in the flesh." -Then he looked a little sheepish, and -added: "I mean it, but I laugh at myself, -too. There are fools that don't -know they're fools; then, there are fools -that do know it and laugh at themselves -as they plan fresh follies—it takes -a pretty clever man, Miss Talltowers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> -to make a grand, supreme, rip-roaring -ass of himself, doesn't it? At least, I -hope so." And with that somewhat -mysterious observation he left me abruptly.</p> - -<p>When I saw him and Nadeshda together -so much at the ball I looked -out for Cyrus. He seemed bored, and -devoted himself to wallflowers, but on -the whole was surprisingly unconcerned, -apparently. I had him in sight almost -the whole evening. Jim Lafollette, -who stuck to my train like a Japanese -poodle—I told him so, but he didn't -take the hint—said that "the gawk," -meaning Cyrus, was hanging round me. -"He's moon-struck," said Jim. "So -your little put-up job with Jessie seems -to be doing nicely, thank you." I wonder -why a man assumes that the fact -that he loves a woman gives him the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> -right to insult her and makes it his duty -to do it. And I wonder why we women -assent to that sort of impudence. There's -another conventionality that ought to be -stamped out.</p> - -<p>I find I was hasty in my judgment of -Cyrus. He's a lot more of a man than -he led me to suppose at first. I think -he might be licked into shape. He ought -to hunt up some widow or married -woman older than himself and go to -school for a few seasons. But perhaps -Nadeshda will do as well.</p> - -<p>January 17. There were thirty-two -at Senator Burke's "little informal breakfast" -yesterday morning, including four -of the leading Senators, two members -of the Cabinet, an ambassador and three -ministers, several generals, half a dozen -distinguished strangers, four or five big -financial men from New York who are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> -here on "private business" with Congress, -and not a man who doesn't count -for something except that wretched -little Framstern, who never misses anything -free. And our regular weekly informal -dance was an equal success in its -way. Senator Ritchie told me it was -amazing how Burke had forged to the -front in influence and in popularity. -"And now that the newspapers have begun -to take him up he'll soon be standing -out before the whole country." So -my little suggestion about the wives and -families of correspondents of the big papers, -which the Burkes adopted, is bearing -fruit. And Mrs. Burke is so genuinely -friendly and hospitable that really I've -only to suggest her being nice to somebody -to set her to work. If she were -the least bit of a fraud I'd not dare—she'd -only get into trouble.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>January 18. I was breakfasting alone -in my sitting-room this morning—I -always do an hour or so of work before -I touch anything to eat—when Mr. Gunton -sent, asking if he might join me. I -was glad to have him. His direct way -is attractive, and he never talks without -saying at least a few things I haven't -heard time and again. He was in riding -clothes, and as soon as I looked at him -I saw he had something on his mind.</p> - -<p>"Good ride?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He made an impatient gesture—whenever -he has anything to say and doesn't -know how to begin, the way to start -him off is to make some commonplace -remark. It acts like a blow that -knocks in the head of a full barrel. "I -was out with the Baroness Daragane," -he said, "with Nadeshda."</p> - -<p>"And Cyrus?" said I.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>He looked at me in astonishment, -then laughed queerly. "Oh, bother!" -he exclaimed. "Cyrus doesn't disturb -himself about <i>her</i>, or she about him—and -you know it. Miss Talltowers, I -love her—and she loves me."</p> - -<p>His tone was convincing. But, after -the first shock, I couldn't believe anything -so preposterous. And I felt sorry -for him—an honest, straight man, inexperienced -with women, a fine mixture -of gentleness and roughness, at once -too much and too little of a gentleman -for Nadeshda. If I had dared I should -have tried to undeceive him. But -I'm not so stupid as ever to try to make -a person in love see the truth about the -person he or she's in love with. So I -simply said: "She is a most fascinating -woman."</p> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i119.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>"You think I'm a fool," he went on, -as if I hadn't spoken, "and I am a—a -blankety-blank fool. Did you see her -night before last in that dress of silver -spangles like the wonderful skin of some -amazing serpent? Did you see her eyes—her -hair—the way her arms looked—as -if they could wind themselves round -a man's neck and choke him to death -while her eyes were fooling him into -thinking that such a death was greater -happiness than to live?" He rolled this -all out, then burst into a queer, crazy -laugh. "You see, I'm a lunatic!" he -said.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I see it," I replied cheerfully. -"But why do you rave to me?"</p> - -<p>"Because I—we—have got to tell -somebody, and you're the only person -in Washington that I know that's both -sensible and experienced, wise enough -to understand, beautiful enough to sympathize,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> -and young enough to encourage."</p> - -<p>That was rather good for a man who -had had less than a month's real experience -with women, wasn't it? I recognized -Nadeshda's handiwork, and admired.</p> - -<p>"Miss Talltowers," he went on, "I -am going to make a fool of myself, and -she's going to help me."</p> - -<p>"In what particular sort of folly are -you about to embark?" said I.</p> - -<p>"We're going to marry," he replied. -"We've <i>got</i> to marry. I'm afraid of her -and she's afraid of me, and we'll either -have Heaven or the other place when -we do marry—perhaps big doses of -each alternately. But we've got to do it."</p> - -<p>"You know it's impossible," said I. -"Under the laws of her country she -mayn't marry without the consent of -her parents. And they'd never consent."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>"Certainly they won't," said he, "unless -you can suggest some way of getting -the ambassador and his wife round. We -want to give her people a chance." This -with perfect coolness. I began to believe -that there must be something in it.</p> - -<p>"Does Nadeshda know you aren't -rich?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"She knows I have practically nothing. -In fact I told her I had less than -I have."</p> - -<p>"And you're sure she wishes to marry -you?"</p> - -<p>"Ask her."</p> - -<p>He was quiet a while, then raved -about her for ten minutes, begged me -to do my best thinking, and left me. -I felt dazed. I simply couldn't believe -it. And the longer I thought, the more -certain I was that she was making some -sort of grand play in coquetry, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> -seemed ridiculous enough when I considered -what small game Mr. Gunton is -from the standpoint of a woman like -Nadeshda.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon I was in a flower -store in Pennsylvania Avenue, and Nadeshda -joined me. Her surface was, if -anything, cooler and subtler and more -cynical than usual. "Send away your -cab," said she, "and let me take you in -my auto—wherever you wish."</p> - -<p>As I was full of curiosity, I accepted -instantly. When we were under way -she gave me a strange smile—a slow -parting of the lips, a slow half-closing -and elongation of those Eastern eyes -which she inherits from a Russian grandmother, -I believe.</p> - -<p>"Well, Gus," she said, "has that wild -man told you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and you ought to be ashamed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> -of yourself," said I, a little indignantly. -"It ain't fair to coax an innocent into -<i>your</i> sort of game and fleece him of -his little all."</p> - -<p>She laughed—beautiful white teeth, -cruel like her red lips. "It's all true—all -he told you," she replied. "All true, -on my honor."</p> - -<p>Every season Washington's strange -mixture of classes and conditions and -nations furnishes at least one sensation -of some kind or other. But, used as I -am to surprises until they have ceased -to surprise, this took me quite aback. -"Do you love him, Nadeshda—really?"</p> - -<p>She quite closed her eyes and said in -a strange, slow undertone: "He's my -master. The blood in my veins flowed -straight from the savage wilderness. And -he comes from there, and I don't dare -disobey him. I'd do anything he said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> -And when we're married I'll never -glance at another man—if he saw me -he'd kill me. Ah, you don't understand—you're -too—too civilized. Now, I -think I should love him better if he'd -beat me."</p> - -<p>I laughed—it was too ridiculous, -especially as she was plainly in earnest. -She laughed, too, and added: "I think -some day I'll try to make him do it. -He's afraid of me, too. And he may -well be, for I—well, he belongs to <i>me</i>, -you see, and I <i>will</i> have what's mine!"</p> - -<p>Yes, she would—I believe her absolutely. -And I must say I like her at -last, for all her extremely uncanny way -of loving and of liking to be loved. I suppose -she's only a primeval woman—I -believe the primeval woman fancied -the lover who lay in wait and brought -her down with a club. I begin to understand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> -Robert Gunton, too—that is, -the side of his nature she's roused.</p> - -<p>"Do you believe us?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do," said I, "and I apologize -to you. I've been thinking of you -all along as—fascinating, of course, but—mercenary."</p> - -<p>"Ah, but so I am!" she exclaimed. -"It breaks my heart to marry this poor -man—and of such a vulgar family—even -among you funny Americans. But"—she -threw up her arms and her shoulders -and let them drop in a gesture of -tragicomic helplessness—"I must have -him; I must be his slave."</p> - -<p>I can't imagine how it's going to -end, as her people will never let her -marry him. Possibly, if "ma" Burke -were to persuade the Senator to settle a -large sum on her—but that's wild, even -if Gunton would consent. I can imagine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> -what a roar he'd give if such a thing -were proposed. He'll insist on having -her on his own terms. As if his insisting -would do any good!</p> - -<p>The last thing she said to me was: -"Do you know when we became engaged? -Listen! It was the first time -we met—after three hours. After one -hour he made me insult the men who -came up to claim dances. After two -hours he made me say, 'I love you.' -After three hours—it was on the way -down to my carriage—he asked me to -come into the little reception-room by -the entrance. And he closed the door -and caught me in his arms and kissed -me. 'That makes you my wife,' he -said in a <i>dreadful</i> voice—oh, it was—<i>magnifique!</i>—and -he said, 'Do you understand?' -And"—she smiled ravishingly -and nodded her head—"I understood."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>I shan't sleep a wink to-night.</p> - -<p>January 20. I wish they hadn't told -me. If ever a man loves me and wants -to win me he must be—well, perhaps -not exactly <i>that</i>, but certainly not tame. -I'm not a bit like Nadeshda, but I do -hate the tame sort. I know what's the -matter with me now. Yes, I wish they -hadn't told me.</p> - -<p>January 21. Robert and Nadeshda -have told "ma" Burke. She is—<i>delighted</i>! -"I never heard of the like," she -said to me all in a quiver. "I wish I'd -known there were such things. I reckon -I'd 'a' made my Tom cut a few capers -before he got <i>me</i>." And then she laughed -until she cried. It certainly was droll -to picture "pa" capering in the Robert-Nadeshda -fashion.</p> - -<p>She went to the embassy and told -Nadeshda's sister, Madame l'Ambassadrice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> -"She let on as if she was just -tickled to death," she reported to me a -few minutes after she returned. "And -when I told her that we—Tom and I—would -do handsomely by Nadeshda -as soon as they were married she had -tears in her eyes. But I don't trust her—nor -any other foreigner."</p> - -<p>"Not even Nadeshda?"</p> - -<p>"Ma" nodded knowingly. "I reckon -Bob'll keep her on the chalk," she replied. -"He's started right, and in marriage, -as in everything else, it's all in -the start."</p> - -<p>January 22. Nadeshda asked Mrs. -Burke to give a big costume ball, but -I sat on it hard. "I don't think you -want to do that, Mrs. Burke," said I, -when she proposed it to me. "If this -were New York it wouldn't matter so -much, though I don't think really nice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> -people with means do that sort of thing -there. Here I'm afraid it'd make you -very unpopular."</p> - -<p>"Do you think so?" said she. "Now, -I'd 'a' said it was just the sort of foolishness -these people'd like."</p> - -<p>"Those who have money would," I -replied. "But how about those who -haven't? Don't you think that people -of large means ought to make it a rule -never to cause any expense whatever to -those of their friends and acquaintances -who haven't means?"</p> - -<p>"Don't say another word!" she exclaimed, -seeing my point instantly. -"Why, it'd be the worst thing in the -world. Out home I've always been careful -about those kind of things, but on -here I don't know the people and am -liable to forget how they're circumstanced. -They all seem so prosperous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> -on the surface. I reckon there's a lot -of miserable pinching and squinching -when the blinds are down."</p> - -<p>Cyrus happened to come in just then, -and she told him all about it. He looked -at me and grew red and evidently tried -to say something—probably something -that would have shown how poorly he -thought of my cheating them all out -of the fun. But he restrained himself -and said nothing.</p> - -<p>Presently he went out and must have -gone straight to his father—probably -to remonstrate, though I may wrong -him—for, after a few minutes, the -Senator came.</p> - -<p>"My son has just been telling me," -he said to me, "and I agree with you -entirely. It would be ruinous politically. -As it is, if it hadn't been for you we'd -never have been able to keep both the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> -official and the fashionable sets in a good -humor with us." I never saw him so -"flustered" before.</p> - -<p>"What are you talking about, pa?" -inquired Mrs. Burke.</p> - -<p>"About the costume ball you were -thinking of giving."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke smiled. "You'd better -go back to your cage," said she. "That's -settled and done for long ago."</p> - -<p>"Pa" looked more uneasy than his -good-natured tone seemed to justify—but, -no doubt, he knows when he has -put his foot into it. He "faded" from -the room. When she heard his study -door close "ma" said to me in a complacent -voice: "There's nothing like -keeping a man always to his side of the -fence. When 'pa' began to get rich I -saw trouble ahead, for he was showing -signs that he was thinking himself right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> -smart better than the common run, and -that he was including his wife in the -common run. I took Mr. Smartie Burke -right in hand. And so, with him it's -never been 'I' in this family, but 'we.' -And keeping it that way has made Tom -lots happier than he would 'a' been -lording it over me and having no control -on his foolishness anywhere."</p> - -<p>What a dear, sensible woman she is! -He's got good brains, but if he had as -good brains as she has he'd get what -he's after and doesn't stand a show for.</p> - -<p>January 24. The whole town is in -a tumult over Robert and Nadeshda. -People think she's crazy. When Cyrus -said this to me I said: "And I think -they are—at least, delirious."</p> - -<p>"A divine delirium, though," he replied, -much to my astonishment. For -he's never shown before that he had so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> -much as a spot of that sort of thing in -him. But then, I'm beginning to revise -my judgment of him in some ways. He -is much nearer what his mother said -he was than what I thought him. But -he's young and crude. I find that he -likes—and really appreciates—the same -composers and poets and novelists that -I do. I can forgive much to any one -who realizes what a poet Browning was—when -he did write poetry, not when -he wrote the stuff for the Browning -clubs to fuddle with.</p> - -<p>Nadeshda is in the depths—except -when Robert is by to hypnotize her. -"I was so strong," she said pathetically -to me to-day, "or I thought I was. -And now I'm all weakness." She went -on to tell me how horribly they are -talking to her at the embassy—for they -are determined she shan't marry "that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> -nobody with nothing." I always knew -her brother-in-law was a snob of the -cheapest and narrowest kind—the well-born, -well-bred kind. But I had no idea -he was a coward. He threatens to have -the Emperor make her come home and -go into a convent if she doesn't break -off the engagement within a week.</p> - -<p>We are tremendously popular. Everybody -is cultivating us, hoping to find -out the real inside of this incredible engagement. -And the ambassador has to -pretend publicly that he's personally -wild with delight and hopes Nadeshda's -parents will consent. He knows how -unpopular it would make him and his -country with America if his opposition -and his reason for it were to be known.</p> - -<p>January 30. Nadeshda has disappeared. -They give out at the embassy -that she has left for home to consult<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> -with her parents. Robert looks like a -man who had gone stark mad and was -fighting to keep himself from showing it.</p> - -<p>We were all at the ball at the French -embassy, Mr. and Mrs. Burke dining -there. I dined at the White House—a -literary affair. The conversation was -what you might expect when a lot of -people get together to show one another -how brilliant they are. The President -talked a great deal. He has very -positive opinions on literature in all its -branches. I was the only person at the -table who wasn't familiar with his books. -Fortunately, I wasn't cornered. Cyrus -came to the ball from Mrs. Dorringer's, -where he took in the Duchess d'Emarre. -"She has a beautiful face in repose," he -said to me as he paused for a moment, -"and it's not at all pretty when she talks. -So she listened well."</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>I was too tired to dance, as were the -others. We went home together, all -depressed. "It's too ridiculous, this kind -of life," said "ma" Burke, "and the most -ridiculous part of it is that, now we're -hauled into it and set a-going, we'll -never get out and be sensible again. It -just shows you can get used to anything -in this world—except doing as you -please. I don't believe anybody was ever -satisfied to do that. Did you ever wear a -Mother Hubbard? <i>There's</i> comfort!"</p> - -<p>I can think of nothing but Robert -and Nadeshda. Have they some sort of -understanding? No—I'm afraid not.</p> - -<p>I forgot to put down that Robert -made the Senator go to the Secretary -of State about Nadeshda's disappearance. -The Secretary was sympathetic, but he -refused to interfere in any way. What -else could he do?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">V</h2></div> - - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">February</span> 1. Last night Robert -started for Europe. He is going -to see Nadeshda's father and -mother. I begin to suspect that Nadeshda -has really gone abroad and that -she has let him know. He is certainly -in a very different frame of mind from -what he was at first. But he says nothing, -hints nothing. Rachel, who has a -huge sentimental streak in her, has given -Robert a letter to her sister Ellen—she's -married to one of the biggest nobles in -the empire, Prince Glückstein. Also,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> -she has written Ellen a long, long letter, -telling her all about Robert, and what -a great catch he is. And he <i>is</i> a great -catch now, for Senator Burke has organized -a company to take over his patents -and pay him a big sum for them—it'll -sound fabulously big to such people as -the Daraganes. For even where these -foreigners are very rich and have miles -on miles of land and large incomes from -it, they're not used to the kind of fortunes -we have—the sums in cash, or in -property that's easily sold. And the -Daraganes have only rank; their estates -are quite insignificant, Von Slovatsky -says.</p> - -<p>"They might as well consent first as -last," said Mrs. Burke to me just after -Robert left; "for Bob always gets what -he wants. He never lets go. Cyrus is -the same way—he spent eleven months<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> -in the mountains once, and like to 'a' -starved and froze and died of fever, just -because he'd made up his mind not to -come back without a grizzly. That's -why the President took to him."</p> - -<p>And then she told me that it was -Cyrus who thought out the scheme for -making Robert financially eligible and -put it in such form that Robert consented. -That convicted me of injustice -again, for I had been suspecting him -of being secretly pleased at Robert's set-back—he -certainly hasn't looked in the -least sorry for him. But it may be that -Robert has told him more than he's told -us. He certainly couldn't have found a -closer-mouthed person. As his mother -says, "The grave's a blabmouth beside -him when it comes to keeping secrets. -And most men are <i>such</i> gossips."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Fortescue came in to tea this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> -afternoon. Mrs. Burke was out calling, -and I received her—or, rather, she -caught me, for I detest her. Just as she -was going Cyrus popped in, and she -nailed him before he could pop out. -She thought it was a good chance to -put in a few strong strokes for her -daughter. "Of course, it's very pretty -and romantic about Nadeshda," she said, -"and in this case I'm sure no one with -a spark of heart could object. Still, the -principle is bad. I don't think young -girls who are properly brought up are -so impulsive and imprudent. I often -say to my husband that I think it's perfectly -frightful the way girls—young -girls—go about in Washington. They're -out before they should be even thinking -of leaving the nursery, and go round -practically unchaperoned. It's so demoralizing."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>"But how are they to compete with -the young married women if they -don't?" said Cyrus, because he was evidently -expected to say something.</p> - -<p>"I don't think a man—a <i>sensible</i> man—looking -for a wife for his home and -a mother for his children would want -a girl who'd been 'competing' in Washington -society," she answered. "I don't -at all approve the way American girls -are brought up, anyway—it's entirely -too free and destructive of the innocence -that is a woman's chief charm. And -as for turning the young girls loose in -Washington!" Mrs. Fortescue threw -up her hands. "It's simply madness. -Most of the men are foreigners, accustomed -to meet only married women in -society. They don't know how to take a -young girl, and they don't understand this -American freedom. The wonder to me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> -is that we don't have a regular cataclysm -every season. Now, I never permit -Mildred to go <i>anywhere</i> without me or -some other <i>real</i> chaperon. And I know -that her mind is like a fresh rose-leaf."</p> - -<p>Cyrus and I exchanged a covert glance -of amusement. Mildred Fortescue is a -very nice, sweet girl, but—well, she does -fool her mother scandalously.</p> - -<p>"I should think a man would positively -be <i>afraid</i> to marry the ordinary -Washington society girl who knows -everything that she shouldn't and nothing -that she should."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps that's what makes them so -irresistible," said Cyrus.</p> - -<p>"Irresistible to flirt with and to <i>flaner</i> -about with," said Mrs. Fortescue reproachfully. -"But I'm sure you wouldn't -marry one of them, Mr. Burke."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't know," he answered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> -"No doubt it does spoil a good many, -being so free and associating with experienced -men who've been brought up -in a very different way. But"—he hesitated -and blushed uncomfortably—"it -seems to me that those who do come -through all right are about the best anywhere. -If a girl has any really bad qualities -anywhere in her they come out -here. And if a Washington girl does -marry a man—for himself—and I rather -think they make marriages of the heart -more than most girls in the same sort -of society in other cities—don't you, -Miss Talltowers?"</p> - -<p>"It may be so," I replied. "But probably -they're much like girls—and men—everywhere. -They make marriages -of the heart if they get the chance. And -if nobody happens along in the marrying -mood who is able to appeal to their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> -hearts, they select the most eligible -among the agreeable ones they can get. -I think many a girl has been branded -as mercenary when in reality the rich -man she chose was neither more nor -less agreeable than the poor man she -rejected, and she only had choice among -men she didn't especially care about."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Fortescue looked disgusted. -Cyrus showed that he agreed with me. -"What I was going to say," he went on, -"was, that if a Washington girl does -choose a man, after she has known lots -of men and has come to prefer him, -she's not likely—at least, not <i>so</i> likely—to -repent her bargain. And," he said, -getting quite warmed up by his subject, -"if a man looks forward to his wife's -going about in society, as he must if he -lives in a certain way, I think he's wise -to select some one who has learned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> -something of the world—how to conduct -herself, how to control herself, -how to fill the rôle Fate has assigned -her."</p> - -<p>"Oh, of course, a girl should be well-bred," -said Mrs. Fortescue, as sourly as -her sort of woman can speak to a bachelor -with prospects.</p> - -<p>Cyrus said no more, and soon she was -off. He stood at the window watching -her carriage drive away. He turned -abruptly—I was at the little desk, writing -a note.</p> - -<p>"You can't imagine," he said with -quick energy, "how I loathe the average -girl brought up in conventional, -exclusive society in America."</p> - -<p>"Really?" said I, not stopping my -writing—though I don't mind confessing -that I was more interested in his -views than I cared to let him see.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>"Yes, really," he replied ironically. -Then he went on in his former tone: -"Poor things, they can't help having -silly mothers with the idea of aping the -European upper classes, and with hardly -a notion of those upper classes beyond—well, -such notions as are got in novels -written by snobs for snobs. And these -unfortunate girls are afraid of a genuine -emotion—by Jove, I doubt if they even -have the germs of genuine emotion. -All that sort of thing has been weeded -out of them. Little dry minds, little -dry hearts—so 'proper,' so—vulgar!"</p> - -<p>"Not in Washington," said I.</p> - -<p>"No, not so many in Washington; -though more and more all the time. -Miss Talltowers, will you marry me?"</p> - -<p>It was just like that—no warning, -not a touch of sentiment toward me. -I almost dropped my pen. But I managed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> -to hide myself pretty well. I simply -went on with my note, finished it, -sealed and addressed it, and rang for a -servant. Then I went and stood by the -fire. The servant came; I gave him -the note and went into my office. I -had been in there perhaps ten minutes -when he came, looking shy and sheepish. -He stumbled over a low chair and -had a ridiculous time saving himself -from falling. When he finally had himself -straightened up and shaken together -he stood with his hands behind him, -and his face red, and his eyes down, -and with his mouth fixed in that foolish -little way as if he were about to speak -with his fancy-work way of handling -his words.</p> - -<p>"Do you wish something?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Only—only my answer," said he -humbly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>Would you believe it, I actually hesitated.</p> - -<p>"I want a woman that doesn't like -me for my money, and that at the same -time would know how to act and would -be—be sensible. I've had you in mind -ever since you explained your system -for—for"—he smiled faintly—"exploiting -mother and father. And mother -has been talking in the same way of -late. She says we can't afford to let you -get out of the family. That's all, I guess—all -you'd have patience to hear."</p> - -<p>"Then you were making me a serious -business proposition?" said I.</p> - -<p>"Well, you might call it that," he admitted, -as if he weren't altogether satisfied -with my way of summing it up.</p> - -<p>"I'm much obliged, but it doesn't -attract me," I said.</p> - -<p>He gave a kind of hopeless gesture.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> -"I've put it all wrong," said he. "I -always <i>say</i> things wrong. But—I—I -believe I <i>do</i> things better." And he gave -me a look that I liked. It was such a -quaint mingling of such a nice man -with such a nice boy.</p> - -<p>"I understand perfectly," said I, and -I can't tell how much I hated to hurt -him—he did so remind me of dear old -"ma" Burke. "But—please don't discuss -it. I couldn't consider the matter—possibly."</p> - -<p>"You won't leave!" he exclaimed. -"I assure you I'll not annoy you. You -must admit, Miss Talltowers, that I -haven't tried to thrust myself on you in the -past. And—really, mother and father -couldn't get on at all without you."</p> - -<p>"Certainly, I shan't leave—why -should I?" said I. "I'm very well satisfied -with my position."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>"Thank you," he said with an awkward -bow, and he left me alone.</p> - -<p>Of course, I couldn't possibly marry -him. But I suppose a woman's vanity -compels her to take a more favorable -view of any man after she's found out -that he wishes to marry her. Anyhow, -I find I don't dislike him at all as I -thought I did. I couldn't help being -amused at myself the next day. I was -driving with Jessie, and she was giving -me her usual sermon on the advantages -of the Burke alliance—if I could by -chance scheme it through. "You're -very pretty, Gus," she said. "In fact -you're beautiful at times. Men do like -height when it goes with your sort of -a—a willowy figure. Your eyes alone—if -you would only <i>use</i> them—would -catch him. And the Burkes would be—well, -they might object a little at first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> -because you've given them a position -that has no doubt swollen their heads—but -they'd yield gracefully. And -although you are very attractive and are -always having men in love with you, -you've simply got to make up your -mind soon. Look how many such nice, -good-looking girls have been crowded -aside by the young ones. Men are crazy -about freshness, no matter what they -pretend. Yes, you must decide, dear. -And—I couldn't <i>endure</i> poor Carteret -when I married him."</p> - -<p>Carteret is a miserable specimen, and -Jessie's ways keep him in a dazed state—like -an old hen sitting on a limb and -turning her head round and round to -keep watch on a fox that's racing in a -circle underneath. Fox doesn't seem -exactly to fit Jessie, but sometimes I -suspect—however—</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>"But," Jessie was going on, "I knew -mama was my best friend. And when -she said, 'Six months after marriage -you'll be quite used to him and won't -in the least mind, and you'll be so glad -you married somebody who was quiet -and good,' I married him. And I love -him dearly, Gus, and we make each -other <i>so</i> happy!"</p> - -<p>I laughed—Jessie doesn't mind; she -don't understand what laughter means -in most people. I was thinking of what -Rachel told me the other day. She said -to Carteret, "It must be great fun -wondering what Jessie will do next." -And he looked at her in his dumb way -and said: "What she'll do <i>next</i>? Lord, -I ain't caught up with <i>that</i>. I'm just -about six weeks behind on her record -all the time."</p> - -<p>But to go back to Jessie's talk to me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> -she went on: "And Mr. Burke's not -so dreadfully unattractive, dear. Of -course, he's far from handsome, and—well, -he's the son of Mr. and Mrs. Burke—but -though they're quite common and -all that—"</p> - -<p>I found myself furiously angry. "I -don't think he's at all bad-looking," I -said, pretending to be judicial. "He's -big and strong and sensible; and what -more does a woman usually ask for? -And I don't at all agree with you about -his father and mother, either—especially -his mother. No, Jessie, dear, my objections -aren't yours at all. I'm sure you -wouldn't understand them, so let's not -talk about it."</p> - -<p>February 3. Yesterday Mrs. Tevis -sent for me. That was a good deal of -an impertinence, but I'm getting very -sensible about impertinences. She lives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> -in grand style in a big, new house in -K Street—it, like everything about her, -is "regardless of expense." The Tevises -have been making the most desperate -efforts to "break in" last season and -this, and as Washington is, up to a certain -point, very easy for strangers with -money, they've gone pretty far. I suppose -Washington's like every other capital—the -people are so used to all sorts -of queer strangers and everything is so -restless and changeful that no one minds -adding to his list of acquaintances any -person who offers entertainment and -isn't too appalling. And the Tevises -have been spending money like water.</p> - -<p>It's queer how people can go everywhere -that anybody goes and can seem -to be "right in it," yet not be in it at -all. That's the way it is with the Tevises. -They are at every big affair in town—White<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> -House, embassies, private -houses. But they're never invited to the -smaller, more or less informal things. -And when they do appear at a ball or -anywhere they're treated with formal -politeness. They know there's something -wrong, but they can't for the life -of them see what it is. And that's not -strange, for who can see the line that's -instinctively drawn between social sheep -and social goats in the flock that's -apparently all mixed up? Everybody -knows the sheep on sight; everybody -knows the goats. And all act accordingly -without anything being said.</p> - -<p>Well, Mr. and Mrs. Tevis are goats. -Why? Anybody could see it after talking -to either of them for five minutes; -yet who could say why? It isn't because -they're snobs—lots of sheep are nauseating -snobs. It isn't because they're very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> -badly self-made—I defy anybody to produce -a goat that can touch Willie -Catesby or Rennie Tucker, yet each of -them has ancestors by the score. It isn't -because they're new—the Burkes are -new, yet Mrs. Burke has at least a dozen -intimate acquaintances of the right sort. -It isn't because they're ostentatious and -boastful about wealth and prices—there -are scores of sheep who make the same -sort of absurd exhibition of vulgarity. -I can't place it. They're just goats, and -they know it, and they feel it; and when -you go to their house they suggest a -restaurant keeper welcoming his customers; -and when they come to your -house they suggest Cook's tourists roaming -in the private apartments of a palace, -smiling apologetically at every one and -wondering whether they're not about -to be told to "step lively."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>Mrs. Tevis received me very grandly -and graciously, though dreadfully nervous -withal, lest I should be seeing that -she was "throwing a bluff" and should -put her in her place.</p> - -<p>"I've requested you to come, my dear -Miss Talltowers," she began, after she -had bunglingly served tea from the newest -and costliest and most elaborate tea-set -I ever saw, "because I had a little matter -of business to talk over with you -and felt that we could talk more freely -here."</p> - -<p>"I must be back at half-past five," -said I, by way of urging her on to the -point.</p> - -<p>"That will be quite time enough," -said she. "We can have our little conversation -quite nicely, and you will be -in ample time for your duties."</p> - -<p>I wonder what sort of dialect she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> -<i>thinks</i> in. It certainly can't be more -irritating than the one she translates her -thoughts into before speaking them. -The dialect she inflicts on people sounds -as if it were from a Complete Conversationalist, -got up by an old maid who -had been teaching school for forty -years.</p> - -<p>"I have decided to take a secretary -for next season," she went on. "Not -that I need any such direction as the -Burkes. Fortunately, Mr. Tevis and I -have had a large social experience on -both sides of the Atlantic and have always -moved with the best people. But -just a secretary—to attend to my onerous -correspondence and arrangements -for entertaining. The duties would be -light, but we should be willing to pay -a larger salary than the position would -really justify—that is, we should be willing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> -to pay it, you know, to a <i>lady</i> such -as you are."</p> - -<p>I bowed.</p> - -<p>"We should treat you with all delicacy -and appreciation of the fact that -your misfortunes have compelled you to -take a—a—position—which—which—"</p> - -<p>"You are very kind, Mrs. Tevis," -said I.</p> - -<p>"And we realized that in all probability -the Burkes would have no further -use for your services at the end of this -season, as you have been most successful -with them."</p> - -<p>I winced. For the first time the -"practical" view of what I've been -doing for the Burkes stared me in the -face—that is, the view which such people -as the Tevises, perhaps many of my -friends, took of it. So I was being regarded, -spoken of, discussed, as a person<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> -who had been bought by the Burkes to -get them in with certain people. And -it was assumed that, having got what -they wanted, they would dismiss me and -so cut off a superfluous expense! I was -somewhat astonished at myself for not -having seen my position in this light -before.</p> - -<p>And I suddenly realized why I hadn't—because -the Burkes were really nice people, -because I hadn't been their employee -but their friend. What if I had started -my career as a dependent of Mrs. Tevis'! -I shivered. And when the Burkes should -need me no longer—why, the probabilities -were that I should have to seek employment -from just such dreadful people -as these—upstarts eager to jam themselves -in, vulgarians whom icy manners -and forbidding looks only influence to -fiercer efforts to associate with those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> -who don't wish to associate with them.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Tevis interrupted my dismal -thoughts with a cough, intended to be -polite. "What—what—compensation -would you expect, may I ask?"</p> - -<p>"What do such positions pay?" I said, -and my voice sounded harsh to me. I -wished to know what value was usually -put upon such services.</p> - -<p>"Would—say—twenty-five dollars a -week be—meet with your views?" she -asked, and her tone was that of a person -performing an act of astounding -generosity.</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear me, no," said I, with the -kind of sweetness that coats a pill of -gall. "I couldn't think of trying to get -you in for any such sum as that."</p> - -<p>I saw that the gall had bit through -the sugar-coat.</p> - -<p>"Would you object to giving me some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> -idea of what the Burkes pay?" she asked, -with the taste puckering her mouth.</p> - -<p>"I should," I replied, rising. "Anyhow, -I don't care to undertake the job. -Thank you so much for your generosity -and kindness, Mrs. Tevis." I nodded—I'm -afraid it was a nod intended to -"put her in her place." "Good-by." -And I smiled and got myself out of the -room before she recovered.</p> - -<p>I <i>wish</i> I hadn't seen her. I hate the -truth—it's always unpleasant.</p> - -<p>February 5. Mrs. Burke had thirty-one -invitations to-day, eleven of them -for her and Mr. Burke. Seven were invitations -to little affairs which Mrs. -Tevis would give—well, perhaps five -dollars apiece—to get to. How ridiculous -for her to economize in the one -way in which liberality is most necessary. -Here they are spending probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> -a hundred thousand dollars a season in -hopeless attempts to do that which they -would hesitate to pay me six hundred -dollars for doing. And this when they -think I could accomplish it. But could -I? I guess not. To win out as I have -with the Burkes you've got to have the -right sort of material to work on, and -it must be workable. Vulgar people -would be ashamed to put themselves in -any one's hands as completely as Mrs. -Burke put herself in my hands.</p> - -<p>Oh, I'm sick—sick, sick of it! I'm -ashamed to look "ma" Burke in the -face, because I think such mean things -about them all when I'm in bed and blue.</p> - -<p>February 6. I decline all the invitations -that come for me personally. I sit -in my "office" and pretend to be fussing -with my books—they give me the horrors! -And I was so proud of them and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> -of my plans to make my little enterprise -a success.</p> - -<p>February 7. Mrs. Burke came in -this afternoon and came round my desk -and kissed me. "What is it, dear? -What's the matter?" she said. "Won't -you tell <i>me</i>? Why, I feel as if you -were my daughter. I did have a daughter. -She came first. Tom was so disappointed. -But I was glad. A son -belongs to both his parents, and, when -he's grown up, to his wife. But a -daughter—she would 'a' belonged to me -always. And she had to up and die just -when she was about to make up her -mind to talk."</p> - -<p>I put my face down in my arms on -the desk.</p> - -<p>"Tired, dear?" said "ma"—she's a -born "ma." "Of course, that's it. You're -clean pegged out, working and worrying.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> -You must put it all away and rest." -And she sat down by me.</p> - -<p>All of a sudden—I couldn't help it—I -put my head on her great, big bosom -and burst out crying. "Oh, I'm so <i>bad</i>!" -I said. "And you're so <i>good</i>!"</p> - -<p>She patted me and kissed me on top -of my head. "What pretty, soft hair -you have, dear," she said, "and what a -lot of it! My! My! I don't see how -anybody that looks like you do could ever -be unhappy a minute. You don't know -what it means to be born homely and -fat and to have to work hard just to -make people not object to having you -about." And she went on talking in -that way until I was presently laughing, -still against that great, big bosom -with the great, big heart beating under -it. When I felt that it would be a downright -imposition to stay there any longer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> -I straightened up. I felt quite cheerful.</p> - -<p>"Was there something worrying -you?" she asked.</p> - -<p>I blushed and hung my head. "Yes, -but I can't tell you," said I. And I -couldn't—could I? Besides, there somehow -doesn't seem to be much of anything -in all my brooding. What a nasty -beast that Mrs. Tevis is!</p> - -<p>February 12. Mrs. Burke and I went -to a reception at the Secretary of State's -this afternoon. We saw Nadeshda's sister -in the distance—that's where we've -always seen her and the ambassador and -the whole embassy staff ever since the -"bust-up," except funny little De Pleyev. -He, being of a mediatized family, does -not need to disturb himself about ambassadorial -frowns or smiles. It's curious -what a strong resemblance there is -between a foreigner of royal blood and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> -a straightaway American gentleman. -But, as I was about to write, this afternoon -the distance between us and Madame -l'Ambassadrice slowly lessened, and -when she was quite close to us she gave -us a dazzling smile apiece and said to -Mrs. Burke: "My dear Madame Burke, -you are looking most charming. You -must come to us to tea. To-morrow? -Do say yes—we've missed you so. My -poor back—it almost shuts me out of -the world." And she passed on—probably -didn't wish to risk the chance that -"ma's" puzzled look might give place -to an expression of some kind of anger -and that she might make one of those -frank speeches she's famous for.</p> - -<p>"Well, did you <i>ever</i>!" exclaimed -"ma" when the Countess was out of -earshot.</p> - -<p>I said warningly: "Everybody's seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> -it and is watching you." And it was -true. The whole crowd in those perfume-steeped -rooms was gaping, and the -news had spread so quickly that a throng -was pushing in from the tea-room, some -of them still chewing.</p> - -<p>Afterward we discussed it, and could -come to but one conclusion—that the -Robert-Nadeshda crisis had passed. But—do -the Daraganes think that Nadeshda -is safe from Robert, or have they decided -to take him in? Certainly, <i>something</i> -decisive has happened. And if Robert -had anything to do with it it must have -been stirring enough to make the Daraganes -use the cable—how else could -Nadeshda's sister have got her cue so -soon?</p> - -<p>February 15. No news whatever of -Robert and Nadeshda. Yesterday the -ambassadress came here to tea and said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> -to Mrs. Burke that she had had a letter -from Nadeshda in which she sent us -all her love—"especially your dear, -splendid, big Monsieur Cyrus." Mr. and -Mrs. Burke are to dine at the embassy -five weeks from to-night—the ambassadress -insisted on Mrs. Burke's giving -her first free evening to her, and that -was it.</p> - -<p>"I reckon we'll have to go," said -"ma" after her departure, and while the -odor of her frightfully-powerful heliotrope -scent was still heavy in the room, -"though I doubt if I'll be alive by then. -Sometimes it seems to me I've just got -to knock off and take a clean week in -bed. I thought I'd never think of drugs -to keep me going, as so many women -advise. But I see I'm getting round to -it. And I'm getting <i>that</i> fat in the body -and <i>that</i> lean in the face! Did you ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> -see the like? I must 'a' lost three pounds -off my face. And the skin's hanging -there waiting for it to come back, instead -of shrinking. I'm glad my Tom -never looks at me. I know to a certainty -he ain't looked at me in twenty years. -Husbands and wives don't waste much -time looking at each other, and I guess -it's a good, safe plan."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke does look badly. I must -take better care of her. Cyrus looks -badly, too. I haven't seen him to talk -to since he made his "strictly business" -proposition. I suppose he wants me to -realize that he isn't one of the pestering -kind. I'm sorry he takes it that way, -as I'd have liked to be friends with him. -He quarreled so beautifully when we -didn't agree. It's a great satisfaction to -have some one at hand who both agrees -and quarrels in a satisfactory way. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> -I don't dare make any advances to him. -He might misunderstand.</p> - -<p>I've just been laughing—at his cowlick. -It <i>is</i> such an obstinate little swirl. -And when he looks serious it looks so -funnily frisky, and when he smiles it -looks so fiercely serious and disapproving. -Yesterday I hurried suddenly into -the little room just off the ball-room, -thinking it was empty. But Cyrus and -his mother were there, and he was tickling -her, and he looked so fond of her, -and she looked so delighted. I slipped -away without their seeing me.</p> - -<p>February 16. We gave our second -big ball last night with a dinner for sixty -before. It was just half-past five this -morning when the last couple came -sneaking out from the alcove off the little -room beyond the conservatory and, -we pretending not to see them, scuttled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> -away without saying good night. -Major-General Cutler danced with Mrs. -Burke in the opening quadrille, and -Mr. Burke danced with the British ambassadress—the -ambassador is ill. I had -Jim on my hands most of the evening—though -I was flirting desperately with -little D'Estourelle, he hung to me with -a maddening husbandish air of proprietorship. -I don't see how I ever endured -him, much less thought of marrying -him. Cyrus Burke is a king beside -him. Excuse me from men who think -the fact that they've done a woman the -honor of loving her gives them a property -right to her. Mrs. Burke was the -belle of the ball. She had a crowd of -men round her chair all evening, laughing -at everything she said.</p> - -<p>February 17. A cable from Robert -Gunton at Hamburg this morning—just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> -"Arrive Washington about March -3." That was all—worse than nothing. -It is Lent, but there's no let up for us. -We only get rid of the kind of entertainments -that cost us the least trouble -to plan and give, and we have to arrange -more of the kind that have to be done -carefully. Anybody can give a dance, -but it takes skill to give a successful -dinner.</p> - -<p>February 19. Nadeshda's sister said -to-day, quite casually, to Jessie: "Deshda's -coming back, and we're so glad. -The trip has done her <i>so</i> much good—in -every way." Now, whatever did <i>that</i> -mean?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">VI</h2></div> - - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">February</span> 26. No news of -Robert and Nadeshda. Have -been glancing through this diary. -How conceited I am, taking credit to -myself for everything. I wonder if I -am vainer than most people, or does -everybody make the same ridiculous discovery -about himself when he takes -himself off his guard? What an imperfect -record this is of our launching. But -then, if I had made it perfect I should -have had to go into so many wearisome -details, not to speak of my having so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> -little time. Still, it would have been -interesting to read some day, when I -shall have forgotten the little steps—for -although we've had in all only a month -before the season and five weeks between -New Year's and Ash Wednesday, so -much has been crowded into that time. -It's amazing what one can accomplish -if one uses every moment to a single -purpose. And I've not only used my -own time, but Robert's and Jessie's and -the time of their and my friends, and -that of Nadeshda and a dozen other people. -They and I all worked together -to make my enterprise a success—and -Jim and the Senator, and "ma" Burke -was a great help after the first few -weeks. Yes, and I mustn't forget Cyrus. -He has made himself astonishingly popular. -I see now that he showed a better -side to every one than he did to me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> -Perhaps I can guess why. I wonder if -he really cares or did care—for me, or -was it just "ma" trying to get me into -the family, and he willing to do anything -she asked of him?</p> - -<p>But to go back to my vanity—I see -that Jessie, Rachel and Cyrus were the -real cause of my success. Jessie and -Rachel alone could make anybody, who -wasn't positively awful, a go. Then -Nadeshda, bent on marrying Cyrus at -first, was a big help—and every mama -with a marriageable daughter was hot -on Cyrus' trail. So it's easy to make -an infallible recipe for getting into society: -First, wealth; second, willingness -to act on competent advice; third, get -a "secretary" who knows society and -has intimate friends in its most exclusive -set, and who also knows how to -arrange entertainments; fourth, have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> -marriageable son, if possible, or, failing -that, a daughter, or, failing that, a near -relative who will be well dowered; fifth, -organize the campaign thoroughly and -pay particular attention to getting yourself -liked by the few people who really -count. You can't bribe them; you can't -drive them; you must <i>amuse</i> them. The -more leisure people have the harder it -is to amuse them.</p> - -<p>Looking back, I can see that "ma" -Burke passed her social crisis when, on -January 5, Mrs. Gaether asked her to -assist at her reception. For Mrs. -Gaether was the first social power who -took "ma" up simply and solely because -she liked her.</p> - -<p>We have spent a great deal of money, -but not half what the Tevises have spent. -But our money counted because it was -incidental. Mere money won't carry any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> -one very far in Washington—I don't -believe it will anywhere, except, perhaps, -in New York.</p> - -<p>I ought to have kept some sort of -record of what we've done from day to -day—I mean, more detailed than my -books. However, I'll just put in our -last full day before Lent, as far as I can -recall it. No, I'll only write out what -Mrs. Burke alone did that day:</p> - -<p>7:30 to 10. She and I, in her room, -went over the arrangements for the ball -we were giving in the evening.</p> - -<p>10 to 12:30. She went to see half a -dozen people about various social matters, -besides doing a great deal of shopping.</p> - -<p>12:30 to 1:45. More worrying consultation -with me, then dressing for -luncheon.</p> - -<p>1:45 to 3:45. A long and tiresome -luncheon at one of the embassies.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>3:45 to 6:30. More than twenty calls -and teas—a succession of exhausting -rushes and struggles.</p> - -<p>6:30 to 7:15. In the drawing-room -here, with a lot of people coming and -going.</p> - -<p>7:15 to 8. Dressing for dinner—a -frightful rush.</p> - -<p>8 to 8:30. Receiving the dinner -guests.</p> - -<p>8:30 to 10:45. The dinner.</p> - -<p>10:45 to midnight. Receiving the -guests for the dance—on her feet all the -time.</p> - -<p>Midnight to 6 in the morning. Sitting, -but incessantly busy.</p> - -<p>6 to 9. In bed.</p> - -<p>9. A new and crowded day.</p> - -<p>This has been a short season, but I -don't think it was the shortness, crowding -much into a few days, that made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> -the pressure so great. It's simply that -year by year Washington becomes socially -worse and worse. As I looked -round at that last ball of ours I pitied -the people who were nerving themselves -up to trying to enjoy themselves.</p> - -<p>Almost every one was, and looked, -worn out. Here and there the unnatural -brightness of eyes or cheeks -showed that somebody—usually a young -person—had been driven to some sort of -stimulant to enable him or her to hold -the pace. Quick to laugh; quick to -frown and bite the lips in almost uncontrollable -anger. Nerves on edge, flesh -quivering.</p> - -<p>Yet, what is one to do? To be "in -it" one must go all the time; not to go -all the time, not to accept all the principal -invitations, is to make enemies -right and left. Besides, who that gets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> -into the hysterical state which the -Washington season induces can be content -to sit quietly at home when on -every side there are alluring opportunities -to enjoy?</p> - -<p>No wonder we see less and less of the -men of importance. No wonder the -"sons of somebodies" and the young -men of the embassies and legations and -departments, most of them amiable -enough, but all just about as near nothing -as you would naturally expect, are the -best the women can get to their houses.</p> - -<p>It is foolish; it is frightful. But it is -somehow fascinating, and it gives us -women the chance to go the same reckless -American gait that the men go in -their business and professions.</p> - -<p>I am utterly worn out. I might be -asleep at this moment. Yet I'm sitting -here alone, too feverish for hope of rest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> -And I can see lights in Cyrus' apartment -and in Senator Burke's sitting-room, -and I don't doubt poor "ma" is -tossing miserably in a vain attempt to -get the sleep that used to come unasked -and stay until it was fought off.</p> - -<p>It is Lent, and the season is supposed -to be over. But the rush is still on, and -other things which crowd and jam in -more than fill up the vacant space left by -big, formal parties. It seems to me that -there is even as much dancing as there was -two weeks ago. The only difference is -that it isn't formally arranged for beforehand.</p> - -<p>I'd like to "shut off steam"—indeed, -it seems to me that I must if "ma" -Burke is not to be sacrificed. But how -can we? People expect us to entertain, -and we must go out to their affairs also. -The only escape would be to fly, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> -we can't do that so long as Congress -is sitting.</p> - -<p>February 27. Robert and Nadeshda -are both in town, he with us, she at the -embassy. They are to be married the -twelfth of April. The engagement is to -be announced to-morrow. I've never seen -any one more demure than Nadeshda, or -happier. I suspect she's going to settle -down into the most domestic of women. -Indeed, I know it—for, as she says, she's -afraid of him, obeys him as a dog its master, -and the domestic side of her is the -only one he'll tolerate. I've always heard -that her sort of woman is the tamest, -once it's under control. She has will -but no continuity. He has a stronger -will and his purposes are unalterable. -So he'll continue to dominate her.</p> - -<p>"Ma" Burke asked him, "How did -you make out with her folks?"</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>He smiled, then laughed.</p> - -<p>"I don't know—exactly," he said. -"They couldn't talk my language nor -I theirs. So it was all done through an -interpreter. And he was Mrs. Dean's -brother-in-law, Prince Glückstein, -and a regular trump. He saw them -half a dozen times before I did. -When I saw them everything was -lovely. They left me alone with her -after twenty minutes. Finally it was -agreed that we should come back on -the same steamer, her brother accompanying -her."</p> - -<p>"But why on earth didn't you cable -us?" she demanded.</p> - -<p>"I did," he replied.</p> - -<p>"But you didn't tell us anything," -she returned.</p> - -<p>"I told you all there was to tell," he -replied.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>"You only said you were coming," -she objected.</p> - -<p>"Well," he answered, looking -somewhat surprised, "I knew you'd -know I wouldn't come without her."</p> - -<p>I'm glad he didn't get it into his -head to "take after" me. A woman -stands no more chance with a man like -that than a rabbit with a greyhound.</p> - -<p>February 29. "Ma" Burke is dreadfully -ill—has been for two days. The -doctors have got several large Latin -names for it, but the plain truth is that -she has broken down under the strain -she seemed to be bearing so placidly. -She didn't give up until she was absolutely -unable to lift herself out of bed. -"I knew it was coming," she said, "but -I thought I had spirit enough to put -it off till I had more time."</p> - -<p>It wasn't until she did give up that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> -her face really showed how badly off -she was. I was sitting by her bed when -"pa" Burke and Cyrus came in. I -couldn't bear to look at them, yet I -couldn't keep my eyes off their faces. -Both got deadly white at sight of her, -and "pa" rushed from the room after a -moment or two. The doctor had cautioned -him against alarming her by -showing any signs of grief. But "pa" -couldn't stand it. He went to his study, -and the housekeeper told me he cried -like a baby. Cyrus stayed, and I couldn't -help admiring the way he put on cheerfulness.</p> - -<p>"I'll be all right in a few days," said -"ma." "It wasn't what I did; it was -what I et. I'm such a fool that I can't -let things that look good go by. And -I went from house to house, munching -away, cake here, candy there, chocolate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> -yonder, besides lunches and dinners -and suppers. I et in and I et out. Now, -I reckon I've got to settle the bill. -Thank the Lord I don't have to do it -standing up."</p> - -<p>Cyrus and I went away from her -room together. "If she wasn't so good," -said he, more to himself than to me, -"I'd not be so—so uncertain."</p> - -<p>"I feel that I'm to blame," said I -bitterly. "It was I that gave her all -those things to do."</p> - -<p>He was silent, and his silence frightened -me. I had felt that I was partly -to blame. His silence made me feel -that I was wholly to blame, and that -he thought so.</p> - -<p>"If I could only undo it," I said, in -what little voice I could muster.</p> - -<p>"If you only could," he muttered.</p> - -<p>I was utterly crushed. Every bit of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> -my courage fled, and—but what's the -use of trying to describe it? It was as -if I had tried to murder her and had -come to my senses and was realizing -what I'd done.</p> - -<p>I suppose I must have shown what -was in my mind, for, all of a sudden, -with a sort of sob or groan, he put his -arms round me—such a strong yet such -a gentle clasp! "Don't look like that, -dear!" he pleaded. "Forgive me—it -was cowardly, what I said—and not -true. We're all to blame—you the least. -Haven't I seen, day after day, how you've -done everything you could to spare her—how -you've worn yourself out?"</p> - -<p>He let me go as suddenly as he had -seized me.</p> - -<p>"I'm not fit to be called a man!" he -exclaimed. "Just because I loved you, -and was always thinking of you, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> -watching you, and worrying about you, -I neglected to think of mother. If I'd -given her a single thought I'd have -known long ago that she was ill."</p> - -<p>Just then Mrs. Burke's maid called -me—she was only a few yards away, -and must have seen everything. I hurried -back to the room we had quitted -a few minutes before. "You must cheer -up those two big, foolish men, child," -she said. "You all think I'm going to -pass over, but I'm not. You won't get -rid of me for many a year. And I rely -on you to prevent them from going all -to pieces."</p> - -<p>She paused and looked at me wistfully, -as if she longed to say something -but was afraid she had no right to. I -said: "What is it—ma?"</p> - -<p>Her face brightened. "Come, kiss -me," she murmured. "Thank you for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> -saying that. We're very different in lots -of ways, being raised so different. But -hearts have a way of finding each other, -haven't they?"</p> - -<p>I nodded.</p> - -<p>"What I wanted to say was about—Cyrus," -she went on. "My Cyrus told -me that he don't see how he could get -along without you, no way, and I advised -him to talk to you about it, because -I knew it'd relieve his mind and -because it'd set you to looking at him in -a different way. Anyhow, it's always -a good plan to ask for what you want. -And he did—and he told me you wouldn't -hear to him. Don't think I'm trying to -persuade you. All I meant to say is -that—"</p> - -<p>She stopped and smiled, a bright -shadow of that old, broad, beaming smile -of hers.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>"I'd do anything for you!" I exclaimed, -on impulse.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid that wouldn't suit Cyrus," -she drawled, good humoredly. "He'd -be mad as the Old Scratch if he knew -what I was up to now. Well—do the -best you can. But don't do anything -unless it's for his sake. Only—just look -him over again. There's a lot to Cyrus -besides his cowlick. And he's been so -dead in love with you ever since he first -saw you that he's been making a perfect -fool of himself every time he looked at -you or spoke to you. Sometimes, when -I've seen the way he's acted up, like a -farmhand waltzing in cowhides, I've felt -like taking him over my knees and laying -it on good and hard."</p> - -<p>I was laughing so that I couldn't -answer—the reaction from the fear that -she might be very, very ill had made me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> -hysterical. I could still see that she was -sick, extremely sick, but I realized that -our love for her had just put us into a -panic.</p> - -<p>"Do the best you can, dear," she ended. -"And everything—all the entertaining -here and the going out—must be kept -up just the same as if I was being -dragged about down stairs instead of lying -up here resting."</p> - -<p>She insisted on this, and would not be -content until she had my promise. "And -don't forget to cheer pa and Cyrus up. -I never was sick before—not a day. -That's why they take on so."</p> - -<p>I think I have been succeeding in -cheering them up. And everything is -going forward as before—except, of -course, that we've cut out every engagement -we possibly could.</p> - -<p>It's amazing how many friends "ma"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> -Burke has made in such a short time. -Ever since the news of her illness got -out, the front door has been opening and -shutting all day long. And those of the -callers that I've seen have shown a real -interest. This has made me have a better -opinion of human nature than I had -thought I could have. I suppose half -the seeming heartlessness in this world -is suspicion and a sort of miserly dread -lest one should give kindly feeling without -getting any of it in return. But -"ma" Burke, who never bothers her -head for an instant about whether people -like her, and gets all her pleasure -out of liking them, makes friends by the -score.</p> - -<p>I'm in a queer state of mind about -Cyrus.</p> - -<p>March 3. "Ma" Burke was brought -down to the drawing-room for tea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> -to-day. She held a regular levee. Those -that came early spread it round, and by -six o'clock they were pouring in. She -looked extremely well, and gloriously -happy. All she had needed was complete -rest and sleep—and less to eat. -"After this," she said, "I'm not going -to eat more than four or five meals a -day. At my age a woman can't stand -the strain of ten and twelve—my record -was sixteen—counting two teas as one -meal." For an hour there was hilarious -chattering in English, French, German, -Italian, Russian, and mixtures of all five. -I think the thing that most fascinates -Mrs. Burke about Washington is the -many languages spoken. She looks at -me in an awed way when I trot out my -three in quick succession. And she regards -the women as superhuman who -speak so many languages so fluently that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> -they drift from one to the other without -being quite sure what they're speaking. -There certainly were enough going -on at once to-day, and a good many of -the women smoked.</p> - -<p>But to return to Mrs. Burke. When -only a few of those we know best were -left this afternoon, and Nadeshda was -smoking, Jessie, who is always so tactful, -said to Robert: "I'm glad to see -that you don't object to Nadeshda's -smoking."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Burke laughed. "Why should -he?" said she. "Why, when we were -children ma and pa used to sit on opposite -sides of the chimney, smoking their -pipes. And ma dipped, too, when it wasn't -convenient for her to have her pipe."</p> - -<p>"Do <i>you</i> smoke, Mrs. Burke?" asked -Jessie, with wide, serious eyes. "I never -saw you."</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>"No, I don't," she confessed. "Tom -used to hate the smell of it, so I never -got into the habit."</p> - -<p>Nadeshda was tremendously amused -by what Mrs. Burke had said about -pipes. "I didn't know it was considered -nice for a lady to smoke in America -until recently," said she. "And -pipes! How eccentric! Mama smokes -cigars—one after dinner, but I never -heard of a lady smoking a pipe."</p> - -<p>"Ma wasn't a lady—what <i>you'd</i> call -a lady," replied Mrs. Burke. "She was -just a plain woman. She didn't smoke -because she thought it was fashionable, -but because she thought it was comfortable. -As soon as we children got a little -older we used to be terribly ashamed of -it—but <i>she</i> kept right on. And now it's -come in style."</p> - -<p>"Not <i>pipes</i>," said Jessie.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>"Not <i>yet</i>," said "ma," with a smile.</p> - -<p>When I thought they had all gone, -and I was writing in my "office" for a -few minutes before going up to dress, -Nadeshda came in to me. "Ma" Burke -used often to say that Nadeshda's eyes -were "full of the Old Scratch," but certainly -they were not at that moment. -She was giving me a glimpse of that -side which, as Browning, I think, says, -even the meanest creature has and shows -only to the person he or she loves. -Not that Nadeshda loves me, but she -has that side turned outermost nowadays -whenever she hasn't the veil drawn -completely over her real self.</p> - -<p>"My dear," she said in French, "what -is it? Why these little smiles all afternoon -whenever you forgot where you -were?"</p> - -<p>I couldn't help blushing. "I don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> -quite know, myself," I replied—and it -was so.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you cold, cold, <i>cold</i> Americans!"—then -she paused and gave me one of -her strange smiles, with her eyes elongated -and her lips just parted—"I mean, -you American women."</p> - -<p>"Cold, because we don't set ourselves -on fire?" I inquired.</p> - -<p>"But yes," she answered, "yourselves, -and the men, too. Never mind. I shall -not peep into your little secret." She -laughed. "It always chills me to grope -round in one of your cold American -women's hearts."</p> - -<p>"I wish you could tell me what my -secret is—and that's the plain truth," -said I.</p> - -<p>She laughed again, shrugged her -shoulders, pinched my cheek, nodded -her head until her big plumed hat was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> -all in a quiver and was shaking out volumes -of the strong, heavy perfume she -uses. And without saying anything -more she went away.</p> - -<p>March 4. Cyrus and I sat next each -other at dinner at the Secretary of War's -to-night. It has happened several times -this winter, as the precedence is often -very difficult to arrange at small dinners. -Old Alex Bartlett took me in, and -as he's stone deaf and a monstrous eater -I was free.</p> - -<p>Cyrus had taken in a silent little girl -who has just come out. She had exhausted -her little line of prearranged -conversation before the fish was taken -away. So Cyrus talked to me.</p> - -<p>"She's grateful for my letting her -alone," said he when I tried to turn -him back to his duty. "Besides, if I -didn't meet you out once in a while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> -you'd forget me entirely. And I don't -want that, if I can avoid it."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said I, for lack of anything -else to say, and with not the remotest -intention of irritating him. But -he flushed scarlet, and frowned.</p> - -<p>"You always and deliberately misconstrue -everything I say," said he bitterly. -"I know I'm unfortunate in trying to -express myself to you, but why do you -never attribute to me anything but the -worst intentions?"</p> - -<p>"And why should you assume that -every careless reply I make is a carefully -thought out attack on you?" I retorted. -"Don't you think your vanity -makes you morbid?"</p> - -<p>"You know perfectly well that it -isn't vanity that makes me think you -especially dislike me," said he.</p> - -<p>"But I don't," I answered. "I confess<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> -I did at first, but not since I've come -to know you better."</p> - -<p>"Why did you dislike me at first?" -he asked. "You began on me with almost -the first moment of our acquaintance."</p> - -<p>"That's true—I did," I admitted. "I -had a reason for it—didn't Nadeshda tell -you what it was?"</p> - -<p>He looked frightened.</p> - -<p>"Be frank, if you want me to be -frank," said I.</p> - -<p>"I never for an instant believed what -she said," he replied abjectly. Then -after a warning look from me, he added—"<i>Really</i> -believed it, I mean."</p> - -<p>"And what was it that you didn't -really believe?" I demanded.</p> - -<p>He looked at me boldly. "Nadeshda -and one or two others told me that you -and your friends had arranged it for me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> -to marry you. But, of course, I knew it -wasn't so."</p> - -<p>"But it was so," I replied. "You -were one of the considerations that determined -my friends in trying to get -me my place."</p> - -<p>"Well—and why didn't you take me -when I finally fell into the trap?"</p> - -<p>I let him see I was laughing at him.</p> - -<p>He scowled—his cowlick did look -so funny that I longed to pull it. "Simply -couldn't stand me—not even for the -sake of what I brought," he said. And -then he gave me a straight, searching -look. "I wonder why I don't hate you," -he went on. "I wonder why I am such -an ass as to care for you. Yes—even if -I knew you didn't care for me, still I'd -want you. Can a man make a more degrading -confession than that?"</p> - -<p>"But why?" said I, very careful not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> -to let him see how eagerly I longed to -hear him say <i>the</i> words again. "Why -should you want—me?"</p> - -<p>He gave a very unpleasant laugh. "If -you think I'm going to sit here and exhibit -my feelings for your amusement -you're going to be disappointed. It's -none of your business <i>why</i>. Certainly -not because I find anything sweet or -amiable or even kind in you."</p> - -<p>"That's rude," said I.</p> - -<p>"It was intended to be," said he.</p> - -<p>"Please—let's not quarrel now," said -I coldly. "It gives me the headache -to quarrel during dinner."</p> - -<p>And he answered between his set -teeth, "To quarrel with you—anywhere—gives -me—the heartache, Gus."</p> - -<p>I had no answer for that, nor should -I have had the voice to utter it if I -had had it. And then Mr. Bartlett began<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> -prosing to me about the Greeley-Grant -campaign. And when the men -came to join the women after dinner -Cyrus went away almost immediately.</p> - -<p>I am <i>so</i> happy to-night.</p> - -<p>March 5. Cyrus came to me in my -office to-day—as I had expected. But -instead of looking woebegone and abject, -he was radiant. He shut the door behind -him. "<i>You</i>—guilty of cowardice," -he began. "It isn't strange that I never -suspected it."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" I asked, not -putting down my pen.</p> - -<p>He came over and took it out of my -fingers, then he took my fingers and -kissed them, one by one. I was so -astounded—and something else—that I -made not the slightest resistance. "It's -useless for you to cry out," he said, "for -I've got the outer door well guarded."</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i207.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>I started up aflame with indignation. -"Who—whom—" I began.</p> - -<p>"Ma," he replied.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" I exclaimed, looking round -with a wild idea of making a dart for -liberty.</p> - -<p>"Ma," he repeated, "and it's not of the -slightest use for you to try to side-step. -You're cornered." He had both my -hands now and was looking at me at -arm's length. "So you are afraid to -marry me for fear people—your friends—will -say that—I walked right into -the trap?"</p> - -<p>I hung my head and couldn't keep -from trembling, I was so ashamed.</p> - -<p>"And if it wasn't for that you'd accept -my 'proposition'—now—wouldn't -you?"</p> - -<p>"I would not," I replied, wrenching -myself away with an effort that put my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> -hair topsy-turvy—it always does try to -come down if I make a sudden movement, -and I washed it only yesterday.</p> - -<p>"What gorgeous hair you have!" he -said. "Sometimes I've caught a glimpse -of it just as I was entering a room—and -I've had to retreat and compose -myself to make a fresh try."</p> - -<p>"You've been talking to your mother!" -I exclaimed—I'd been casting about -for an explanation of all this sudden -shrewdness of his in ways feminine.</p> - -<p>"I have," said he. "It's as important -to her as to me that you don't escape."</p> - -<p>"And she told you that I was in love -with <i>you</i>!" I tried to put a little—not -too much—scorn into the "you."</p> - -<p>"She did," he answered. "Do you -deny that it's true?"</p> - -<p>"I have told you I would never accept -your 'proposition,'" was my answer.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>"So you did," said he. "Then you -mean that you're going to sacrifice my -mother's happiness and mine, simply -because you're afraid of being accused -of mercenary motives?"</p> - -<p>"I shall never accept your 'proposition,'" -I repeated, with a faint smile -that was a plain hint.</p> - -<p>He came very close to me and looked -down into my face. "What do you -mean by that?" he demanded. And -then he must have remembered what his -proposition was—a strictly business arrangement -on both sides. For, with a -sort of gasp of relief, he took me in his -arms. I do love the combination of -strength and tenderness in a man. He -had looked and talked and been so -strong up to that instant. Then he was -<i>so</i> tender—I could hardly keep back the -tears.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>"Wouldn't you like me to tell mother?" -he asked. "She's just in the next -room—and—"</p> - -<p>I nodded and said, "I never should -have caught you if it hadn't been for -her."</p> - -<p>"Nor I you," said he. And he put -me in a chair and opened the door. I -somehow couldn't look up, though I -knew she was there.</p> - -<p>"I don't know whether to laugh or -cry," said "ma" Burke. "So I guess -I'll just do both." And then she seated -herself and was as good as her word.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i005a.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote"> - - -<p class="ph3">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Social Secretary, by David Graham Phillips - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOCIAL SECRETARY *** - -***** This file should be named 55719-h.htm or 55719-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/7/1/55719/ - -Produced by David E. 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