Mrs. J. 
 Worthington 
 Woodward 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 By 
 
 HELEN BEEKMAN 
 
 BRENTANO'S 
 
 NEW YORK 
 1904
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1903, 
 
 BY 
 WM. H. YOUNG & CO. 
 
 Dramatization and all other rights reservea. 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1903, 
 
 BY 
 BRKNTANO'S.
 
 NOTE. 
 
 THIS story has only recently been published 
 and offered for sale under the name of ' ' Dainty 
 Devils." Inasmuch as the original title selected 
 was found to be misleading as expressing the 
 character of the book, the present name," Mrs. J. 
 Worthington Woodward," was chosen as being 
 more appropriate. 
 
 This explains the head-line differing from the 
 title-page in the present volume. 
 
 S138721
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 MY niece, born Gretchen von Waldeck, by 
 marriage become Mrs. J. Worthington Wood- 
 ward, and familiarly known in the beginning 
 and up to date, as " Dot," had held me her slave 
 since the morning I went, in the chill of a 
 summer rain, to see my sister Margaret's new- 
 born daughter. An hour later, as I sat dream- 
 ily holding the tiny infant, the distracted father 
 came to tell me that the young mother was dead 
 my Margaret and his : mine first, if his more 
 nearly. 
 
 The helpless personality in the bundle within 
 my arms was all that kept my brother-in-law 
 from suicide. To that baby he devoted his days 
 and his strength, and she grew and thrived and 
 was blissfully unconscious of the fact that the 
 situation was a most pathetic one. No baby was 
 ever more gurglingly content, no child more bois- 
 terously joyous, no young girl more saucy 
 and happily self -sufficient, than motherless, 
 brotherless and sisterless Dot. Watching her 
 with adoring eyes, I wondered what it must be 
 3
 
 4 Preface. 
 
 like to have so keen a perception of all the beauty 
 and gladness in the world. As she grew up she 
 seemed impervious to any sense of trouble or 
 pain and, fool that I was, I expected her always 
 to remain as she had been. 
 
 Meeting her then, after a six-months' dwell- 
 ing in the home which marriage had brought her, 
 the half -tearful gravity brooding over her young 
 face, the earnest questioning in her round blue 
 eyes, sent a poignant stab through my old heart. 
 In my reading of the girl's nature, I had made 
 one huge mistake : the same sensibility which 
 responds to every impression of joy, answers as 
 readily to sorrow. 
 
 Poor little Dot had been having experiences 
 too rapidly, and was upon the verge of a seri- 
 ous collapse. It was the unexpected receipt 
 of a telegram announcing that she and Jack 
 would leave shortly for Europe, which had 
 brought me into the City to spend a few hours 
 with this child, whom I so loved. Dot's father 
 was to come, too, but not till the last day she 
 would be at home. I was astonished at find- 
 ing Dot so extremely nervous and overwrought, 
 although, to be sure, some of the gossip in which 
 she undeservedly figured, had found its way even 
 to Graytown. As I listened to Dot's rapid, excited 
 talk, so rapid and so excited as to be at times 
 upon the border of incoherency, the painful real-
 
 Preface. 5 
 
 ization of how complete and trying the difference 
 in the circumstances of her life had been, over- 
 whelmed me. Gravely and anxiously enough I 
 received all the news she poured out to me. I 
 think it was a full hour before I succeeded in 
 leading her away from matters in New York, 
 and we spent a while together in Graytown, 
 imaginatively. This Graytown conversation 
 greatly improved matters. Pretty, pathetic Dot 
 became pretty, laughing Dot again. She forgot 
 temporarily her troubles and perplexities until 
 some chance remark of mine I do not know 
 what it was brought recent events and com- 
 plications back to her. There was an immediate 
 suggestion of tears behind the laugh with which 
 she said : 
 
 " Oh, Nunk ! I've an enormous secret to tell 
 you." 
 
 Candidly, I felt slightly alarmed; could there 
 by any possibility be more " secrets " than the 
 newspapers published ? 
 
 " I've written a book, or a lot of stuff you 
 might not dignify by such a name." 
 
 Relief made me gratifyingly enthusiastic in 
 my expression of pleasant amazement at this dis- 
 closure. Innocuous sheets of scribbled paper ! 
 How unspeakably more desirable than new " mat- 
 ter " for newspaper sensation ! Most eagerly did 
 I request to be permitted to see her " secret."
 
 6 Preface. 
 
 We were in the most charming room in the 
 Woodward house, the library. Since Dot's ar- 
 rival, its large formidable desk had been sup- 
 plemented by a delightful affair utterly feminine 
 and ornamental in appearance, at which Dot 
 had penned notes and invitations, and, as we all 
 thought, nothing else. I was surprised to find 
 that the fragile creation had a drawer that 
 locked, and which Dot now opened with an air 
 of grave importance. She drew out a wad of 
 manuscript, and turned to me deprecatingly. 
 
 " It's awfully mean," said she, ruefully, " but 
 my writing it was a kind of revenge, I'm afraid." 
 
 I reached for the manuscript. 
 
 " No, not yet. First promise you won't 
 laugh." 
 
 " I promise ; I'd swear, only ministers must 
 not." 
 
 Still her slim, little hands tightly held the 
 manuscript away from me. 
 
 " We're going to Europe next week, Jack and 
 I, aren't we ? " 
 
 " Yes ; all this gorgeousness doesn't seem to 
 satisfy my country niece." 
 
 Dot looked painfully hurt as she continued : 
 
 " Well, I don't care if we never come back 
 except," hastily, " to see you and father. There ! 
 I'm nervous and tired to death, and ready to cry, 
 don't you see? Oh, take this paper, Nunk, if
 
 Preface. 7 
 
 you like, and do just as you please with it. I 
 don't want to give it to father. He would grieve 
 over it too much." 
 
 I took the manuscript, and Dot wiped a few 
 tears from her cheeks. I did not begin to read 
 until she and Jack had been three or four days at 
 sea. They are safe in Switzerland now, and you 
 may read the ravings of Dot's brain if you want 
 to. Frankly, I found them very different from 
 what I had anticipated, and perused them with 
 interest to the end. If the style of her compo- 
 sition seems crude and wholly regardless of 
 known rule, pray remember that Dot is not yet 
 nineteen. Should too much family pride appear 
 in her character, do not forget that her grand- 
 father was Count von Waldeck, who came to 
 America during the political troubles of '48, and 
 that as her German blood proves itself in her 
 complexion and blonde braids, her mental quali- 
 ties are no less colored by the strain of the 
 von Waldecks. Her independence, her gaiety, 
 her quickness of wit, are all American ; her con- 
 servatism, her sensitiveness, her power of think- 
 ing things out, are truly German. 
 
 My part is now finished. The rest of the book, 
 beyond an occasional mention, has nothing to do 
 with DALTON DARE.
 
 DAINTY DEVILS. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 FOUR days ago we arrived from our wedding- 
 trip, having been married in June, at my uncle's 
 church in Massachusetts. My wedding-day was 
 my eighteenth birthday. A week after we were 
 married, Jack and I sailed for Europe, which 
 was awfully hard upon father, but very delight- 
 ful for me. The only thorn in that rosy morning, 
 was parting with father when the steward 
 sounded the ghastly gong on the deck. At that 
 moment I was dumb and blind with misery, but 
 I was not deaf, because I heard the noise that 
 wretched steward made, not only then but for 
 hours afterward, and, insanely enough, it seemed 
 to me that the unearthly din took father from me. 
 I cried so terribly that an old maid with a wig 
 told me three days later I could not possibly be 
 9
 
 io Dainty Devils. 
 
 in love with my husband, or it would not have 
 overcome me so to part with my father. A 
 lot she knows ! Jack hated her, too. 
 
 My husband's name is written " J. Worthing- 
 ton Woodward " and the men call him " Worth." 
 Now, certain people in Graytown had upon 
 several occasions absolutely disgusted me by in- 
 sinuatingly asking how many millions I should 
 " guess Mr. Woodward was worth; " and there- 
 fore to call my heart's beloved by an expres- 
 sion intimately connected with the idea of his 
 money, was for me next-door to an utter impos- 
 sibility. So I asked him what " J." meant, and 
 hearing it was John, the only sensible thing to 
 do was to call him " Jack." Anyway I think 
 it a contemptible slight upon the writer of a 
 Holy Gospel to give his name to a child, and later 
 chop it down to a meaningless initial used sim- 
 ply as a humble foil to a three-syllabled middle- 
 name. To be sure we may take it for granted 
 that an Apostle has more common-sense and less 
 touchiness than human beings still trammeled 
 with their bodies of clay. At least I hope he has. 
 Because I knew a stern old lady named Tabitha 
 Ann who heard that her daughter-in-law was 
 about to name the new baby for her. Greatly 
 elated and a trifle suspicious, the grandmother 
 hastened across the State of Massachusetts to 
 be present at the christening. Barely had she
 
 November. 1 1 
 
 laid aside her bonnet when she asked the young 
 mother : 
 
 " Are you sure you wish the baby named for 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes, mother," sweetly. 
 
 " And you will call her Tabitha no nick- 
 name ? " 
 
 Baby's mama fidgeted a bit. 
 
 " We intend to name her for you exactly, Tabi- 
 tha Ann, and we shall call her Annette." 
 
 " If you don't intend to call her by her given 
 name, have her christened Annette right off and 
 be done with it. I see you are too hifalutin to 
 call the child Tabitha. So name her as you 
 please, and may she be proud of your choice! 
 As for me, I am going straight home." 
 
 Temper, tears, the son's intervention, more 
 tears, even a high fever meanwhile grandma 
 had not gone, and in due time the minister brave- 
 ly baptized the infant Tabitha Ann. There is 
 at times a great deal in a name. This cowardly 
 concession to the grandmother was worth exactly 
 fifty thousand in the old lady's will. 
 
 Peter, James and John, do not personally pro- 
 test when they are treated as this grandmother 
 would not be ; therefore we have P. Stuyvesant, 
 J. Ferguson, J. Worthington, etc., ad infinitum. 
 Perhaps the Apostles smile. 
 
 Jack is thirty-five, very big and handsome,
 
 12 Dainty Devils. 
 
 and half the girls in New York wanted him; 
 some for his millions, some for his good-looks, 
 some for both. Of course I firmly believe that 
 no other girl ever loved him quite as deeply as I. 
 
 It certainly was amazingly queer that Jack 
 married me. People say we shall be separated in 
 two years. Maybe we shall if death us do part. 
 
 My grandfather, Count von Waldeck, left Ger- 
 many in political disgrace and noble poverty in 
 1848. Being informed that Massachusetts was 
 more tractable than New York to the learning 
 which he intended to impart Greek, Latin, Ger- 
 man and music he turned his back haughtily 
 upon an offer made him by a rich grocer upon 
 the voyage, and traveled on to Graytown, where 
 he settled with his title, a few books and no 
 money. I have never been able to feel sure that 
 grandfather's Greek and Latin would have stood 
 the test had any one applied for instruction, but 
 no one ever did, so he kept the dead languages 
 for quotation and earned a scanty living between 
 German and music. The minister liked him, and 
 the minister had a daughter : small, dark and 
 sprightly. She was my grandmother, and they 
 say T have my figure from her. I positively 
 have not a German one, nor German hands or 
 feet ; I am exceedingly glad to have a few Amer- 
 ican points, as my face belongs in Bremen. 
 
 Grandmother's father insisted that she should
 
 November. 13 
 
 be called Mrs. von Waldeck, and not Countess. 
 Oddly enough, grandfather did not object to this 
 in the least, although he had a deal of pride in 
 his name and family ; it was only grandmother 
 who made a fuss and took on an habitual pout 
 you can see it in her painted portrait up at Gray- 
 town Rectory which rather became her, and 
 which is the expression I fancied noble ladies 
 wore, until I grew up and knew better. My 
 grandparents had only one child, my father. 
 That grandfather, loving the very word " Ger- 
 many," came finally to pride himself upon being 
 an American, and dropped his title of " Count," 
 worked more and more upon grandmother's 
 nerves, and, the villagers said, hurried her into 
 her grave. 
 
 That is all nonsense of course, but grand- 
 mother actually did worship a title, and died at 
 thirty-six. 
 
 She made, if not enemies, many " cool friends," 
 in Graytown, by saying upon several occasions, 
 " The von Waldecks were of the most important 
 nobility in Germany, long before America was 
 discovered." Now the Plymouth Rockers did 
 not accept that statement with pleasure, even in 
 the end, and at the beginning openly discredited 
 it. However, one of those persons predisposed 
 to research upon all possible subjects I think 
 he would not have minded being deputized to
 
 14 Dainty Devils. 
 
 look up the genealogy of one particular mosquito 
 investigated grandmother's proud claim, and 
 discovered it to be undeniably true. The von 
 Waldecks were much more ancient than Colum- 
 bus ! The Plymouth Rockers, defeated but by 
 no means baffled, from that day on grudged 
 grandmother even the bare name von Waldeck, 
 without the Countess that she craved. 
 
 That was, after all, some kind of satisfaction, 
 however ignoble, for so appallingly noble a lady. 
 
 Although I never saw grandfather, he must 
 have been exactly like father, who inherited the 
 German and music pupils along with the von 
 Waldeck countenance. 
 
 I can well comprehend how grandfather hated 
 the Army, and unlike his brothers, preferred the 
 quiet life of books and country pleasures, to an 
 Officer's existence. I believe it was the study 
 of Jean Jacques Rousseau which placed grand- 
 father upon the side of the People in 1848, to 
 the rage and horror of all his relatives and ac- 
 quaintances. Pride is a sin in which I have 
 some grievous participation, but in nothing am 
 I quite so proud, as in the knowledge that grand- 
 father had the courage of his convictions, al- 
 though that brave steadfastness cost him every- 
 thing so far as his Fatherland was concerned. 
 And I am positive that my dear father would 
 have had the same convictions, and would have
 
 November. 15 
 
 undergone the same exile with the same calm 
 dignity. 
 
 Needless to remark that father was poor, he- 
 roically and aristocratically poor, and his mar- 
 riage with the new pastor's sister, Margaret Dare, 
 did not add to his worldly possessions. The 
 pair were, however, romantically happy for two 
 years. Then I came and mother died. 
 
 So I grew up in the " Professor's " cottage, 
 where we had hardly any furniture except books 
 which I suppose, properly speaking, only go 
 to furnish the mind and under the devoted care 
 of my father, supplemented by the spasmodic 
 attention of Lame Ann, who was housekeeper 
 and nurse, and maid-of-all-work, and who took 
 her meals with us. Father got Lame Ann to 
 come " just for a home," because between her 
 limp and cross-eyes, no one who could afford 
 wages would take her. What would have become 
 of us if there had not been a Lame Ann? 
 
 Father taught me a great deal. French and 
 German, of course, and his beloved music, and 
 mathematics and history. For the last he had a 
 passion almost as intense as his love for music. 
 He made great men real for me, and I know 
 exactly how they looked and acted. From ten 
 years on, I was always in love with some King 
 or Soldier-Knight of other days. That I should 
 ever fall in love with a flesh-and-blood gentle-
 
 16 Dainty Devils. 
 
 man of modern times, the people of Graytown de- 
 clared to be impossible. Father's friends, chosen 
 almost entirely from the College Faculty, were 
 old, scholarly and absent-minded, and no mat- 
 ter what degree of affection I might some day 
 attain for one of them, he would never recognize 
 me outside of father's study, for the simple rea- 
 son that none of them ever looked at me. I 
 fancy that if my corporeal dimensions had not 
 obstructed a certain amount of light, even the 
 nod I usually received would have been want- 
 ing, simply because my presence would have re- 
 mained unknown. Sometimes, it is true, father 
 would pull me fondly forward, and into evidence 
 as it were, remarking: 
 
 " Here is Gretchen." 
 
 " Oh yes How are you, Miss Dot ? " would 
 be the result of this effort upon dear father's 
 part. You see Lame Ann could not pronounce 
 Gretchen, and as she invariably called me " Miss 
 Dot," everyone in Graytown did so, except father, 
 who had named me for mother, and called my by 
 the German diminutive. 
 
 In spite of shabby clothes, plain fare, and long 
 lessons, the years spent at home were very happy 
 ones. We were wealthy in the possession of a 
 good piano and a splendid violin, both of which 
 I learned to play, and when one has lots of occu- 
 pation and goes to bed so tired that sleep is de-
 
 November. 17 
 
 licious, it would be impossible to contrive to 
 be blue. Although father never said so, I know 
 the fact that he did not send me to school was 
 the best proof of his great heartsickness about 
 my mother, and of his inability to get along 
 without me in the house. Lots of people advised 
 father to marry again, and a widow with a good 
 deal of money, and five children, wrote him a 
 proposal. Lame Ann knew the handwriting and 
 pieced the letter together out of the waste-bas- 
 ket. I was only six, but I well remember how 
 Lame Ann limped in to my cot-bed and read 
 me the epistle in a mixture of holy horror at the 
 brazenness, and gloating satisfaction at gratified 
 curiosity. A few days later Lame Ann confided 
 to my youthful ears that father had written the 
 widow a letter, saying he did not approve of sec- 
 ond marriages. 
 
 How Lame Ann obtained this information, 
 must be left to the imagination. 
 
 Children are never so stupid as some people 
 think. If there is anything which exemplifies 
 " wise as a serpent and innocent as a dove," it 
 is the child of average intelligence. With my 
 small experience of six years of life, I instinctive- 
 ly knew better than to speak of the widow or 
 her letter to father. Not that I reasoned I 
 just felt that I was, by some uncomprehended 
 force, prevented from speaking upon these sub- 
 2
 
 i8 Dainty Devils. 
 
 jects. How I wish I had the same intuition 
 to-day ! But I have not. It seems that the ser- 
 pent's wisdom evaporates in the same ratio as 
 the dove's innocence. 
 
 Jack came into my life as unexpectedly as 
 though he had dropped from the skies. He is 
 good enough to say he thought I actually had 
 fallen from heaven that day I bounced into 
 Uncle Dalton's study with a message from father, 
 that he had met the doctor driving like mad to 
 old Mrs. Gage, who was dying. Uncle rose 
 hastily, and when I realized that a tall strange 
 man loomed up beside him, it was not only the 
 breathlessness from running which kept me tem- 
 porarily speechless. 
 
 " Well, Dot ? Thought I was alone, didn't you ? 
 Let me present Mr. Woodward to you My 
 niece, Miss von Waldeck." 
 
 I did not even bow, but turned from Mr. 
 Woodward to Uncle Dalton, and blurted out what 
 I had come to tell : 
 
 " Mrs. Gage is dying, Nunk, and wants you." 
 
 " Oh," said Uncle Dalton, not a bit like a min- 
 ister, but exactly like the kind-hearted gentle- 
 man he is, " then I must go at once ! Can't you 
 stay a while and talk to Mr. Woodward ? He will 
 be my guest for the next three weeks, dear." 
 
 Whatever made me do it? Was it the last 
 flickering gleam of the childish wisdom which
 
 November. 19 
 
 I had of late been losing ? In those few seconds, 
 I remembered I had on a blue serge frock made 
 three years earlier, and most visibly let down 
 in the hem, and that at home I had a better dress. 
 Still there was some other vague reason, new 
 dignity, I think, which impelled me. I drew 
 back and said: 
 
 " Wouldn't it be better, if Mr. Woodward 
 came to call upon father ? " 
 
 Uncle Dalton turned with his coat half on and 
 stared at me. 
 
 " 1 believe you're right, child. You see, Mr. 
 Woodward, I forget that Dot has grown up." 
 
 Such a troubled look had flooded into Uncle's 
 big eyes that I felt too silly and awkward for 
 words. A scalding blush spread up to my yellow 
 hair, the first wave followed by a second at the 
 recollection of how ugly, according to Lame Ann, 
 a blush made me appear. Jack came nobly to the 
 rescue. 
 
 " If Miss von Waldeck will permit me to walk 
 home with her, I shall be very glad." 
 
 I shall never admit to Jack the battle these 
 words precipitated into my heart. On the one 
 side was overwhelming joy at the idea of parad- 
 ing that stunning man through Main Street and 
 I meant to take him the long way in the face 
 of all the matrons and maidens of Graytown; 
 on the other side was fierce regret that if Mr.
 
 2O Dainty Devils. 
 
 Woodward accompanied me, I should necessarily 
 be in my let-down blue serge with a white cro- 
 cheted shawl for a wrap, and having arrived 
 with him, I should be obliged to stay as I was 
 through the length of his call. He would never 
 know how nice I could look, in other clothes ! 
 
 "I think," said I, redder than ever, "that I 
 that father would rather have Mr. Woodward 
 call in about an hour." 
 
 " Oh," said Jack, apparently not at all abashed, 
 " very well." 
 
 Meanwhile Uncle stood holding the study-door 
 open for me. 
 
 " I am naturally in a bit of a hurry to reach 
 Mrs. Gage," he said gravely; and from Uncle 
 Dalton that was a reproof. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mr. Woodward. You will be sure 
 to come ? " 
 
 The idea that Uncle was displeased with me 
 added immeasurably to my already great ner- 
 vousness. 
 
 Jack laughed. He says he could not have 
 helped it had his life been the penalty. I un- 
 derstood that I had shown undignified eagerness, 
 and in utter confusion ran past Uncle and out 
 of the Rectory. Reaching the street I quieted 
 down into a walk. But I went home the short 
 way. 
 
 Father, sitting in the library, received my
 
 November. 2 1 
 
 news not at all as I had expected, for he had 
 known for two days that Uncle was to have 
 a visitor from New York, who was in a law-suit 
 about some Graytown property. It was exactly 
 like father not to have told me. 
 
 " An old man, is he not ? " asked father. 
 
 " Oh, no. Just right," I replied, earnestly. 
 
 " Just right ? " echoed father. " Just right for 
 what?" 
 
 " For Uncle," faintly. And Uncle was fath- 
 er's age! 
 
 " That certainly is not young, my child." 
 
 " He's younger than Uncle," I said, hastily, 
 " and handsome." 
 
 " You seem to have observed him well, Gret- 
 chen." 
 
 " I've got to see Lame Ann about something," 
 I remarked irrelevantly, going behind father's 
 chair. Out of the range of his eyes I made the 
 announcement I had resolved upon because Mr. 
 Woodward had laughed at me. 
 
 " Unless Mr. Woodward asks for me particu- 
 larly, father, I'm not coming down." 
 
 " Oh, of course, Gretchen ; but get ready, my 
 child." 
 
 That was exactly what I intended to do. I 
 considered it uncannily clever of father to know. 
 Quite crestfallen I sought Lame Ann in the 
 kitchen.
 
 22 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Ann, I was out in the wind and my hair 
 is awful. Have you time to braid it ? " 
 
 " No, I've not." 
 
 " Oh, Ann, how nicely you have ironed my 
 turn-over lace collar. I can put it on right 
 away." 
 
 Ann set the flat-iron down with a vicious 
 thump. 
 
 " And have it crumpled in five minutes ! I 
 ironed it so you could wear it with your brown 
 cashmere on Sunday." 
 
 " I'm going to wear my brown cashmere right 
 away, Ann. I expect company. A gentleman." 
 
 " Pooh ! Don't fix up for the old mummies 
 who come here, Miss Dot. Not one of them 
 knows or cares whether you have two eyes or 
 three. You might just as well be a nigger-wench 
 for all the difference." Ann's scorn was magnifi- 
 cent, as she hobbled over to the range for a fresh 
 iron. 
 
 I made a face at her back and picked up my 
 lace collar. 
 
 " My visitor," I said, grandly, "is from New 
 York, and is not old. If you don't want to do my 
 hair for me, never mind." 
 
 I made hurriedly for the back-stairs which 
 led directly from the kitchen up into my tiny 
 band-box of a bed-room. Lame Ann was almost 
 as quick as I was. She came stumbling at my
 
 November. 23 
 
 heels, iron still in hand, and as I shut and locked 
 the narrow door at the top of the steps, she sent 
 a perfect wail after me. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Dot, of course I'll do your hair ! 
 Lordy, if you shouldn't be ready when he came ! 
 And from New York ! Open the door, there's 
 a good child, and let your old Ann in." 
 
 " I'll think about it," I said, glorying in the 
 unusual opportunity of punishing poor Ann. I 
 was rapidly unbraiding my hair. 
 
 " I'll put the iron back and come up again," 
 began the poor soul. At that I darted to the 
 door, because I could not stand the idea of the 
 old creature struggling up the stairs again, and 
 unlocked it in a rush of repentance. 
 
 " Give me the iron ; I'll poke it into the wash- 
 basin. And hurry, Ann. He'll be here soon." 
 
 I do not know who was the more nervous 
 Ann or I. Ann, who was immensely proud of 
 my long, unmanageable locks, braided them once 
 and found that she had left a heavy strand 
 loose. Undoing them, she pulled and tangled 
 till tears of pain stood in my eyes. 
 
 " If you'd stop asking questions, Ann," I said, 
 crossly, " you'd probably get along better." 
 
 " Lordy, Miss Dot, a gentleman from New 
 York doesn't come every day! But only to stay 
 three weeks ? What a pity ! " 
 
 If some one had told us then that at the end
 
 24 Dainty Devils. 
 
 of those three weeks I should be engaged to 
 the stranger, I think the notion would have pet- 
 rified us. Yet Lame Ann has never ceased re- 
 lating how she knew from the first that Mr. 
 Woodward was my " fate." 
 
 " There ! Your hair's done, and looks beauti- 
 ful. Put on that nice stiff white petticoat, Miss 
 Dot, the one I did up last week. It holds out the 
 brown cashmere so that it looks like broadcloth. 
 And a blue bow at your throat. You're just 
 right-complected for blue." 
 
 All of Ann's advice I followed. She was a 
 great believer in starch, and when I went down- 
 stairs to father for I had repented of my rash 
 resolution to wait until I was called he said 
 he heard me from the upper hall, " crackling." 
 
 I did not admire that word, nor find it a com- 
 pliment. Before I could protest, however, we 
 heard a step on the frozen garden-path and father 
 went to open the house-door. 
 
 Every bit of that visit I can distinctly remem- 
 ber. Long afterward, when we were married 
 and traveling in Europe, I asked Jack what he 
 had thought of us that afternoon ? He answered 
 that his feelings were too deep for words ; he 
 could have laughed or cried over the whole thing. 
 He says my candid scrubbing and brushing 
 and starching in preparation for company dur- 
 ing the hour which I had asked for, made him
 
 November. 25 
 
 long to laugh, but that dear father's fine face 
 and stately bearing in the shabby surroundings, 
 made him want to cry. To him the most touch- 
 ing part was when father, after talking enthusias- 
 tically of Rome, said, in response to a question as 
 to how recent changes impressed him : 
 
 " I have never been in Rome, nor any place 
 farther than New York. Travel would be su- 
 preme joy to me; and above all I long to see 
 my father's Fatherland." 
 
 No one but a homesick exile can understand 
 father's joy at the discovery that Jack had grad- 
 uated from the University of Heidelberg, where 
 grandfather had also studied. Father had a 
 couple of badly-done little water-colors of the 
 River and the Schloss which grandfather had 
 treasured throughout his varying fortunes, and 
 these father brought out and showed with pal- 
 pitating pride to his delightful visitor. Were 
 they like? Would he recognize them? 
 
 Jack was very kind to the poor little pic- 
 tures, although too honest to pretend that they 
 bore much resemblance to the beautiful Neckar 
 and the picturesque ruined Schloss. So deli- 
 cately did he put it, that no picture could ade- 
 quately reproduce the charm and poetry of Hei- 
 delberg scenery, that father's sensitive faith in 
 every thing that belonged to grandfather was un- 
 hurt. The two men became more and more
 
 26 Dainty Devils. 
 
 enthusiastic in their conversation, and I accuse 
 Jack to this day insincerely I admit of hav- 
 ing succumbed to the traditions of father's study, 
 and of forgetting me completely. 
 
 Even were this so, he assures me that the 
 pathos of father's love and yearning for the land 
 he had never seen, were much more engrossing 
 than such a pink-and-white piece of health and 
 irresponsibility as I was. 
 
 It is very evident that while by no means a 
 liar, Jack is at times not scrupulously truthful. 
 Judging by myself, I believe he was already in- 
 terested in the stranger he had met at Uncle Dai- 
 ton's, to the exclusion of everything else, pathetic 
 or ridiculous. Only I admit I never could have 
 pretended that flattering interest in the dis- 
 cussion of Heidelberg which Jack did so beau- 
 tifully. A positive climax was reached when 
 Jack sang some words of a song which began, 
 " Alt' Heidelberg, Du Feine ; " father went into 
 raptures and something in Jack's voice made me 
 cry. Father could not see me and Jack well, 
 Jack was the same darling he is now and had 
 the grace to pretend that he did not notice. 
 
 The call was prolonged till dark. When Lame 
 
 Ann brought a lamp, Jack went away. 
 
 ******* 
 
 That was the I5th of March. The events 
 of the following three months crowded upon one
 
 November. 27 
 
 another. It is an exceedingly queer fact, but 
 fact it is, that one person wanting something 
 makes some one else want the same thing, too. 
 Gretchen von Waldeck, unloved and unknown, 
 suddenly possessed two lovers, about as different 
 in birth, looks and breeding, as they well could 
 be. I had known Jack two little weeks when 
 I asked him, one day as I sat peeling potatoes 
 for Lame Ann: 
 
 " Are you really going away in a week ? " 
 
 Jack took the peeled potato from me, dropped 
 it into the basin of water (which I explained to 
 him was to keep it white J and handed me a fresh 
 one. When I recall this scene now ! 
 
 " No," he said, smiling oddly ; " I'd like to, 
 but I think it will take me longer." 
 
 I peeled industriously. Feeling that my eyes 
 would tell how glad I was, I kept them re- 
 ligiously set upon the big potato-eyes beneath my 
 knife, instead of raising them to the big human 
 ones above me. 
 
 " Lawyers are always slow, Uncle Dalton 
 says," I remarked. 
 
 " It's not lawyers," said Jack. " It's something 
 quite different." 
 
 In my astonishment I glanced up quickly. 
 
 "What?" I asked, and then hastily looked 
 down again, in the most unaccountable confu- 
 sion. Jack's eyes had upset me.
 
 28 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " You will know some day," he said, slowly. 
 
 I am pretty sure I knew then. 
 
 A day or two later, in short, Sunday after- 
 noon most ominous time Reuben Stevens 
 came to call upon Miss Dot. Now society in 
 Graytown is entirely democratic. I was Count 
 von Waldeck's daughter: Rube "was just as 
 good " Was he not the undertaker's son ? 
 
 Rube was small in length, breadth and thick- 
 ness. Afraid of suggesting his grave avocation, 
 when not professionally employed he successfully 
 avoided anything black. 
 
 Accordingly his shirts and cravats were veri- 
 table barber-poles, and his jewelry jingled and 
 glittered with spectacular garishness. Rube re- 
 mained an hour, interspersing his conversation 
 of choir and early vegetables with frequent sighs 
 directed at me. Father was taking a nap, and 
 Lame Ann was reading her Bible. I do not 
 think I could possibly have endured Rube that 
 long hour had I not been sustained by the thought 
 that Graytown gossips would now have vis- 
 ual proof of their error a young Graytown 
 eligible had called upon me. And on Sunday 
 afternoon ! 
 
 When Rube rose to go, he asked me with a 
 great deal of unwarrantable assurance, whether 
 he might come again. Personal prejudice 
 made me want to deny him permission; the rec-
 
 November. 29 
 
 ollection of the gossips stayed me in the tempt- 
 ing ungraciousness. I wickedly told him I 
 should be delighted to see him, the next Sun- 
 day afternoon. I had forgotten the row which 
 Lame Ann would create. The second time Rube 
 came, I should have to ask him to tea, and Lame 
 Ann unfailingly delivered a scathing lecture 
 over every extra plate and cup she had to wash. 
 Truly, when father invited Mr. Woodward to 
 dinner, Lame Ann had been all smiling interest, 
 and had, for the first time since she entered our 
 house, waited at table and not sat down till 
 she had brought in the coffee. I felt absolutely 
 certain that Rube Stevens would not evoke the 
 like condescension. After five minutes' consider- 
 ation of my rash act, I concluded not to tell 
 Lame Ann anything beyond what she already 
 knew Rube had called. How could I have 
 been so mistaken in Lame Ann ? Did I not know 
 by long experience that her eyes although so 
 frightfully crossed, were sharper than mine, and 
 that her ears in perfection of their function out- 
 stripped her eyes? As for her conscience, in 
 spite of long and fervent Bible study, it was to 
 say the least, very adjustable. 
 
 Barely had I decided upon the diplomatic si- 
 lence, when Lame Ann burst into the best room, 
 where I had received Rube and whence he had 
 just departed.
 
 30 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Miss Dot, you needn't waste your time on 
 that little jinny-spinner of an undertaker's son. 
 I'm surprised at you, I really am, and disgusted, 
 too." 
 
 " Ann, you forget that I am the mistress of 
 this house and may invite whom I please to call 
 upon me." 
 
 A sudden flame of illuminating good sense 
 flashed into poor Ann's brain. As I look back 
 I sincerely admire her for it. At the time I was 
 entirely resentful of her wisdom. 
 
 " Mr. Woodward means to marry you, Miss 
 Dot, and he is the best chance you will ever get. 
 Don't frighten him off by this idiot of a Rube. 
 Ask Mr. Woodward to tea, and I'll make salad 
 and hot biscuit, but I'll not take a step for 
 Rube. I've neuralgia badly of late, and no one 
 knows when an attack will come on." This last 
 with a positively vicious sniff. 
 
 " You're a wicked hypocrite ! " I cried, hotly. 
 
 " No worse than you," responded Ann, as she 
 hobbled out of ear-shot. 
 
 I was very silent all the evening, although 
 Jack came. He found our Puritan custom of no 
 music Sunday evenings, very trying, and told 
 me father's Sundays were his saddest days mere- 
 ly because he could not relieve the crowding of 
 his lonely thoughts by the music of his violin. 
 I was greatly shocked at this expression of Jack's
 
 November. 31 
 
 'feeling ; yet he did behave so devoutly in church ! 
 At that time I could not understand how anyone 
 Avho prayed in the morning, could indulge in what 
 I heard an Evangelist once denounce as the 
 " damning distraction of music," in the afternoon. 
 What an ignorant, narrow-minded little savage 
 I was ! Oh dear me ! If my better knowledge in 
 some directions could only have been attained 
 without my bitter and unfortunate elucidation 
 along other lines! 
 
 That week Jack came twice every day. He 
 tells me it was very hard to remain away in 
 the mornings, but he so commiserated Ann in 
 her hobbling haste the one occasion he dined with 
 us, that knowing father would earnestly urge 
 his stopping to dinner if he appeared before 
 Meridian, he gloriously put himself out of the 
 way of temptation and never came to our door 
 before two in the afternoon. The first hour he 
 devoted exclusively to father and cigars. The 
 second gradually became mine, for father had to 
 have his nap, although never admitting it, and 
 would doze surreptitiously in his chair from three 
 to four, while I dutifully darned socks or mended 
 linen, or crocheted lace for pantry-shelves, to 
 the delightful accompaniment of blithe conver- 
 sation, the tempo of which was accentuated by 
 happily excited" heart-beats. Jack leaving at four, 
 my heart subsided into wearily normal palpi-
 
 32 Dainty Devils. 
 
 tation, and I was lonesome and dreamy and ab- 
 sent-minded till eight in the evening, when the 
 interesting and unusual gentleman again ap- 
 peared. 
 
 Saturday night I was oddly nervous and dis- 
 satisfied with myself. Mr. Woodward would 
 leave at ten, and if he stayed away in the after- 
 noon, as he had done the previous Sunday, ex- 
 cept for church in the morning I should not see 
 him again till after I had had Rube to 
 tea. 
 
 Our Sunday dinner was barely eaten, however, 
 when I heard a step upon the porch which was 
 not Rube's. Joy, consternation, defianceand fright 
 struggled within me. While father went to 
 welcome Mr. Woodward, I retired pell-mell to 
 my room. Sitting down upon the edge of the 
 bed I swung my feet violently, the performance 
 being proof positive that I was fiercely excited. 
 
 Rube would come Sunday afternoon To re- 
 main for tea. Did Mr. Woodward understand 
 Graytown etiquette? Would he believe me en- 
 gaged to that miserable idiot of an undertaker's 
 son? My face flamed at the thought. 
 
 " Miss Dot, Miss Dot, come down and see Mr. 
 Woodward." 
 
 " I'll be down later," I called back. 
 
 I went at once. 
 
 Mr. Woodward asked hastily if I were well.
 
 November. 33 
 
 " Awfully," I answered, annoyed at the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, you look so feverish," he 
 said, anxiously, and waited a moment as though 
 expecting some explanation for my want of re- 
 pose. As I merely rubbed my hands nervously 
 together and said nothing, Jack continued rather 
 like one wishing to change the subject with a 
 fretful child : " See what I have brought you, 
 Miss von Waldeck. They came last night." 
 
 He pointed to the table where stood a beautiful 
 edition of Longfellow in green-and-gold-and- 
 mottled richness. 
 
 " Oh ! " I cried in rapture, then I drew back ; 
 " I can't accept them from a gentleman. Can I, 
 father?" 
 
 " Mr. von Waldeck has permitted," said Jack, 
 smiling ever so slightly. " It is a trifle of a 
 gift who knows how much I may want to 
 take?" 
 
 Father started. I am sure he thought of the 
 Stradivarius. I did not. I merely bent over 
 the books, my face turned away. Why are 
 women so clever in divining how much or how 
 little men like them? 
 
 " All I have," said father, gravely, " is at your 
 disposal, Mr. Woodward." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," returned Jack. " I hope 
 
 3
 
 34 Dainty Devils. 
 
 I'll never take too unwelcome advantage of your 
 courteous generosity." 
 
 Father sighed, still thinking, I am sure, of his 
 priceless violin. I turned to Mr. Woodward to 
 express my^ gratitude for the books, and caught 
 a look upon his face which well, it made my 
 heart beat in my throat and caused a wild re- 
 gret that I had invited Rube for that Sunday 
 afternoon. I realize now that I never thanked 
 Jack at all for those books. He seemed to 
 understand that I was painfully excited, although 
 he did not dream the reason, and in his 
 usual kind way began to talk to father, leaving 
 me to recover my mental equilibrium. When 
 father said he had some letters to write, and 
 went upstairs, I felt half-glad, half-sorry. How- 
 ever, I was not left long to the luxury of analyz- 
 ing my emotions. Father had not reached his 
 room before I saw Rube Stevens, resplendently 
 attired, turn in at our gate. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Woodward," I gasped, " Mr. Stev- 
 ens is coming in And I hate him," I added, ve- 
 hemently. 
 
 Jack stared in astonishment. 
 
 " Can't you get rid of him, then ? " he asked, 
 curiously. 
 
 People talk about drowning men seeing all 
 their lives in one horrible mental panorama at 
 the moment of sinking. I fully believe they do,
 
 November. 35 
 
 for while Rube made his way to the front door, 
 I laid a whole scheme of fibs to make him go 
 away. 
 
 " Yes," I said, gulping. " Quick go in here. 
 He mustn't see you " 
 
 I was about to say, " Or he won't believe me," 
 but I did not dare tell Jack I meant to fib. I 
 interrupted myself in the nick of time, and open- 
 ing the door which led to the cellar-stairs, I 
 pushed Mr. Woodward on to the small landing. 
 Closing that door, I flew to the front one. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Mr. Stevens," I said. " I'm 
 sorry that I'm feeling so miserable with a head- 
 ache, that I shan't be able to entertain you." 
 
 " Ah, to look at you is enough, Miss Dot," 
 entering unabashed. The day was very warm 
 for April, and having hung up his hat, Rube 
 drew out a silk handkerchief almost dripping 
 with Stephanotis, and gently wiped his forehead, 
 smiling at me the while. I recoiled before both 
 smile and perfumery. 
 
 " Really," I said, " cologne is extremely re- 
 pugnant to me." 
 
 " Is it, now ? " he exclaimed, in consternation. 
 " But we'll fix that, Miss Dot," he added, with a 
 reassuring smile. 
 
 He went to the door, opened it, and dropped 
 the offending handkerchief upon the porch. His 
 simplicity was fascinating. Evidently unless I
 
 36 Dainty Devils. 
 
 asked him point-blank to go, there was no escape 
 from Rube. I led the way to the study, 
 wretched now in the thought that Mr. Woodward 
 might think I had stooped to a trick because 
 I was over-anxious to be in his society. What 
 harm would it have been, after all, had Rube 
 been caught paying his compliments to me? I 
 flushed deeper and deeper and said nothing, leav- 
 ing the making of small talk to my visitor. Fib- 
 bing always brings uncomfortableness of some 
 sort or another, and if not in this world, undoubt- 
 edly in the next, when we and our fibs are bound 
 to come face-to-face. Dreadful thought ! And 
 still, perhaps the horrible astonishment will be 
 consolingly universal. 
 
 " Ah, you really look ill, Miss Dot," said Rube, 
 anxiously, establishing himself, uninvited, I 
 noted, in father's big chair. I sat opposite, rock- 
 ing vigorously. 
 
 " Yes ; perhaps, I'm getting scarlet fever. Are 
 you not afraid of infection ? " 
 
 And then ! Oh ! Shall I ever be able to recall 
 that scene without hot tears of mortification rush- 
 ing into my eyes? There was a smothered roar 
 of laughter from the landing of the cellar-stairs, 
 at which Rube sprang out of his chair and I sank 
 deeper into mine. Nor was the laughter all. 
 Jack, big, heavy creature that he is, had knocked 
 over the rack that held a cane for Lame Ann's
 
 November. 37 
 
 assistance in going down into the cellar, and the 
 stick went bumpety-bump from the top to the 
 bottom of the stairs. 
 
 " Oh, goodness gracious, what is it ? " asked 
 Rube, visibly frightened. You see he had not 
 been in the undertaking business very long. 
 
 Dear Jack ! He was at the rescue, and patched 
 up my blunder so far as anyone could. Flinging 
 open the door, he came into the study, very red, 
 very dusty and very determined. 
 
 " There certainly are rats in your cellar, Miss 
 von Waldeck," he said, his eyes dancing. " Why, 
 Mr. Stevens, how do you do ? " 
 
 " Very well," eagerly ; " but say, I've got a 
 fox-terrier a dandy. Shan't I go get him right 
 off?" 
 
 " Oh, will you ? " said Jack, enthusiastically. 
 " It would be immense." 
 
 Rube paused, suddenly doubtful. 
 
 " How about the parson ? It's Sunday." 
 
 " Uncle Dalton would never object," I man- 
 aged to say. Then I was sorry. It looked as if 
 I wanted to be alone with Jack. Which is not 
 nice in a girl to show. 
 
 Incredible as it may seem, Rube departed in 
 all seriousness for his dog, waving me an airy 
 farewell and giving a parting assurance that his 
 terrier was " game." The door safely closed 
 upon him, Jack again burst out laughing. I
 
 38 Dainty Devils. 
 
 dropped into my chair and joined him. For sev- 
 eral seconds we simply looked at each other and 
 laughed like two lunatics. Jack's mirth ceased 
 suddenly, so suddenly that I started to find I was 
 laughing alone. Instantly I grew serious, too, 
 as though some one had peremptorily said to me, 
 "Be quiet!" 
 
 " Gretchen ! " said Jack after a tiny pause of 
 death-like silence. 
 
 I jumped. My name to him was Miss von 
 Waldeck. 
 
 " Yes, Gretchen," he repeated, sternly em- 
 phatic. " That boy wants to marry you. So 
 do I. Which one is it to be ? " 
 
 I stared, open-mouthed, began to stammer, to 
 blush, and finally went to pieces. 
 
 " Oh, don't," I begged, beginning to cry. 
 
 " You musn't cry, little one," Jack said. 
 " Rube will be back directly with the dog, you 
 know." 
 
 Was there ever such a proposal before? Jack 
 stood some three feet away from me and I 
 crouched sobbing in the rocking-chair. 
 
 Jack came and laid his hand upon my shoul- 
 der. 
 
 " You are over-excited," he said, gently ; " I 
 should not have asked you the great question 
 now. It was following an unreasoning impulse. 
 Anyway," whimsically, " your father is a Ger-
 
 November. 39 
 
 man and would like to be consulted first. Rube 
 and his dog are my excuse for being so precipi- 
 tate." 
 
 The picture of Rube and his dog, so unfortun- 
 ately real and tangible, and the rats which existed 
 only in imagination, here overcame me. From 
 tears I passed back to uncontrollable laughter, 
 much to Jack's amazement. 
 
 The yelping of a racing dog broke in upon us. 
 My merriment subsided in a shiver of disgust. 
 I stood up. 
 
 " I shall not marry Rube, Mr. Woodward," I 
 said, very faintly, my eyes upon the floor. 
 
 " And I gave you only one alternative," he 
 said, his voice ringing. 
 
 " Yelp! Yelp! Yelp! " 
 
 To that music Jack kissed my forehead. 
 
 Did we go through the mockery of a rat hunt? 
 Hilariously so far as Jack and I and the dog 
 were concerned ; in chagrin and perspiration upon 
 the part of Rube. At last Jack took compassion 
 upon the panting disappointed boy and the pant- 
 ing snapping terrier. 
 
 " It's almost tea-time, and I must see Mr. von 
 Waldeck. The rat is not here, so let's quit." 
 
 At that very instant the dog made a mad rush 
 and we heard the squealing of a rat the next 
 second. 
 
 " Jehosaphat ! " screamed Rube, in ecstasy ;
 
 4O Dainty Devils. 
 
 " didn't I tell you he was game, Mr. Wood- 
 ward?" 
 
 " Fine little beast," said Jack, heartily. 
 " You'll stop to tea, won't you, Stevens ? I'll be 
 here, too." 
 
 Rube ceased dancing about the cellar and stood 
 stock-still. An ugly, unhuman expression set- 
 tled upon his heavy lips. 
 
 " Have you got a mortgage here? " he asked, 
 in his common way. 
 
 I sprang impulsively from my seat on an over- 
 turned barrel, tearing my gown upon a wicked 
 nail as I did so. Jack was ahead of me. 
 
 " If Mr. von Waldeck makes no objection, 
 Miss von Waldeck and I are engaged," he said, 
 pausing half way up the cellar-stairs. 
 
 Rube gasped, struck mute and motionless. 
 
 Jack passed from sight at the landing; I 
 trembled a little when I remembered that it was 
 " to see father " he had gone. How awfully sol- 
 emn and eternal the word " engaged " sounded ! 
 As for marriage my heart jumped into my 
 mouth. It meant leaving father ! 
 
 " Why don't you congratulate me ? " I asked, 
 Rube's awkward presence compelling some recog- 
 nition. 
 
 Rube whistled to his dog. 
 
 " I wanted you myself," he said, sullenly, start- 
 ing to leave the cellar. What a stunning place
 
 November. 41 
 
 for the announcement of an engagement ! Gret- 
 chen von Waldeck was certainly born for royal 
 surroundings. 
 
 I ran up the ladder we called stairs ; the dog 
 scrambled behind me, Rube followed slowly, his 
 head down. 
 
 He went straight for his hat. 
 
 " Won't you stop for tea ? " I asked, politely, 
 because I knew now that he would not. 
 
 " No, thank you. Come, Billy ! Good-even- 
 ing." 
 
 Yelp! Yelp! The dog was racing home- 
 ward. 
 
 Father came down the stairs, wet-eyed and sol- 
 emn, although smiling. 
 
 " Gott segne Euch!" was all he said, putting 
 my hand into Jack's. 
 
 At tea there was a bottle of old wine opened 
 and drunk standing, Lame Ann being informed 
 that she must drink her glassful to the happiness 
 of Miss Dot and Mr. Woodward. She partici- 
 pated in the little ceremony emotionally, if not 
 gracefully, and limped from me to Jack, to touch 
 glasses and say, " Prosit ! " 
 
 The meal was no sooner finished than father 
 went to his room upstairs. I know now that he 
 spent that evening with my mother; at the time 
 I thought only of Jack and myself.
 
 42 Dainty Devils. 
 
 When Jack left Graytown we went together, 
 bride and groom. It was the fifteenth of June. 
 Jack has no very near relatives, and as our wed- 
 ding was very quiet, he only sent announce- 
 ments to his twelve or fourteen cousins of differ- 
 ent degrees. We sailed without having met any 
 of his relatives, as they were not in New York 
 at that time of the year. 
 
 I never knew what I missed! 
 
 That js what a girl said the third day out on 
 the steamer to Italy. She had been sea-sick till 
 then, and as she finished her first meal at the table 
 she sighed with heart-breaking pathos, " you 
 never knew what you missed ! " The remainder 
 of the voyage she brought to every meal a huge 
 black-bound book labeled in gold lettering, " My 
 Trip Abroad." Into this book she faithfully cop- 
 ied every menu, not even using ditto marks for 
 the repeats. It took all my power of self-con- 
 trol as well as my dignity as a matron, to refrain 
 from asking her, " Will you tell them that you 
 ate it all?" 
 
 The same girl after having been ashore at 
 Gibraltar announced at dinner while various pas- 
 sengers were elaborating upon the beauties of 
 the town and fortress, that the most interesting 
 feature to her was the pork-market! 
 
 I used to be awfully happy ! I do not mean 
 that I am unhappy now, because I never could
 
 November. 43 
 
 be, so long as I had dear Jack. But since the 
 moment my foot touched the pier in New York, 
 somehow my utterly free-from-care condition 
 quite barbarian in its perfection has not existed. 
 
 I feel suppressed by iron vices of convention- 
 ality, I am nervous at the thought of my pathetic 
 ignorance of this social world, and frightened at 
 the crucible I am sure the women in it will put 
 me through before I learn their pace. I suppose 
 the instantaneousness of the change in my mental 
 attitude is rather a compliment to the feminine 
 personalities who so subtly and successfully 
 brought it about. I do not believe that any man 
 living could be so quick, so quiet, and so effec- 
 tive in crushing out the heart of a fellow-being, 
 as are some society-women. If man be " little 
 lower than the angels," such women are a little 
 higher a very little than the devil. 
 
 Jack is a perfect darling. I am nevertheless 
 exceedingly thankful that he has no near rela- 
 tives. Although, considering the matter, I do 
 not believe that any one more closely related 
 to Jack could be like his cousins at least, like 
 the two who met us at the pier. They greeted 
 Jack effusively and kissed him the imperti- 
 nence ! And they are both very pretty and grace- 
 ful and wear exquisite frocks. Thanks to the pa- 
 tience and tact of dear old Jack, in these five 
 months I have learned how to buy clothes, and
 
 44 Dainty Devils. 
 
 I know now how women ought to be gowned. 
 These creatures are dainty to the highest degree. 
 
 As for their looks in detail, they have noth- 
 ing in common, despite as I learned later, the 
 fact that they are twins. Mrs. Allison has a 
 slim dark face, straight features and very dark 
 eyes under black lashes. Jack told me after- 
 ward that when Lou's face grows a trifle slimmer, 
 she will have prominent cheek bones and a sharp, 
 ugly chin. " Hatchet-face," he added, " the kind 
 that in olden times penance and self-denial trans- 
 formed into the countenances of saints, and 
 which modern "self-indulgence and skepticism 
 convert into repellent angles. After all, ' hatchet- 
 face ' is hardly a fair description. Such faces 
 in later life combine the ugliness of a hatchet with 
 the sharpness of a sword." 
 
 In spite of Jack's prognostications, she is ex- 
 tremely good-looking now, and the deep secretive 
 expression of her eyes holds one tantalized as 
 to its meaning. Are such eyes beautiful for good 
 or evil? I had a strange, recurring vision of 
 Spoleto and Lucrezia Borgia, as I yielded to their 
 fascination. 
 
 Her sister is much shorter in figure, and alarm- 
 ingly thin, save her face, which is well-rounded 
 and small-chinned. Her hair is blonde, very 
 fluffy, in sharp contrast to Mrs. Allison's smooth 
 black locks. She has dark sleepy-looking eyes,
 
 November. 45 
 
 set far apart, as though her short broad nose 
 had demanded more space than was its right. 
 Nevertheless Mrs. St. John is also decidedly 
 pretty. Her snub-nose is redeemed by the short 
 child-like upper lip to the full mouth, and her 
 teeth are faultless. Such an unusual combina- 
 tion of hair and eyes, accentuated by the most 
 bewitching pink cheeks, lends to Mrs. St. John's 
 coloring extraordinary charm. Jack and I have 
 held many animated discussions as to whether 
 form or color is more conducive to beauty. Jack 
 holds to the classic marble, the idealization of 
 form. It would be the vastest kind of affectation 
 if I pretended to agree with him. The beauty 
 of statuary is for me" the beauty of death ; while 
 the color of painting is vital. It appeals, it sat- 
 isfies, and if true to nature, triumphs over many 
 a defect of line. To my mind, Belle St. 
 John is proof conclusive that coloring does more 
 for feminine beauty than perfection of feature. 
 Leave every line of her face the same, give her 
 gray eyes, drab hair, and a sallow skin, and she 
 would be positively ugly. As a matter of fact she 
 is beautiful, because her coloring is her salva- 
 tion to such a degree that one forgets the glaring 
 irregularity of her features. 
 
 That I was shabbily treated, in short, cruelly 
 treated, upon my arrival, does not. prevent my 
 acknowledging that Mrs. Allison and Mrs. St.
 
 46 Dainty Devils. 
 
 John are handsome enough to stand comparison 
 anywhere. 
 
 But as we drove home, all four of us, I ground 
 my teeth once to keep from saying, as I contem- 
 plated Jack's elegant cousins, " You dainty dev- 
 ils!" 
 
 The trouble began at the first words which fol- 
 lowed Jack's introduction of his little wife, or 
 perhaps to be more truthful, a second sooner, 
 when Mrs. Allison I will not call her Cousin 
 Lou kissed him. Let me confess that all the 
 von Waldecks are jealous. 
 
 " She is a little bit of a thing, indeed," said 
 Mrs. Allison, staring me over in a business-like 
 fashion. It's the way I have seen Jack calculate 
 the points of a horse some one wanted him to buy. 
 
 " Quite a child," added Mrs. St. John, delib- 
 erately scanning my costume from the tip of 
 my boot to the top wing in my hat. 
 
 There was this difference in the surveys of 
 the two women : Mrs. Allison did not move her 
 eyes as she gazed, while Mrs. St. John lowered 
 her chin when she stared at my boots, and ele- 
 vated it gradually until her face was impudently 
 tilted at that top wing which indicated my stature 
 limit, including that portion attained by the tri- 
 umph of millinery.
 
 November. 47 
 
 These remarks, spoken as if English were to 
 me an unknown tongue, took the place of the 
 customary greeting accorded by new relatives. 
 That they considered me of the same genus, but 
 of a different species from themselves, was pain- 
 fully evident. At the moment my heart quiv- 
 ered with anger and humiliation. Now I feel 
 exultantly glad that I am unlike them. One day 
 in Graytown, Jack said to me, " If I had never 
 met you, I should have died a bachelor, because 
 I could never take the ball-room product as my 
 wife." 
 
 On the pier, neither this recollection nor any 
 other came to my comfort. I acknowledge that 
 I was supremely hurt, frightened and angered 
 by the cool criticism with which Jack's cousins 
 received me. I was bitterly surprised too, for 
 I had never doubted that Jack's friends would 
 like me for his sake. And while I am undeniably 
 small, no one had ever before seemed to find 
 me ridiculous. Utterly oblivious of the incipient 
 battle that waged in his immediate neighborhood, 
 my adorable and unsuspecting husband immedi- 
 ately went off to hurry the trunks through, leav- 
 ing me at the mercy of these women whose rude- 
 ness had already made me intensely dislike them. 
 Stupidly I stood before them, rigid with wounded 
 pride. 
 
 " How did you enjoy the voyage? I suppose,
 
 48 Dainty Devils. 
 
 being your first experience, that you were very 
 sea-sick ? " 
 
 " Not in the least ; nor was it my first exper- 
 ience. I had to go to Europe before I could come 
 back." 
 
 " Oh, now, that is funny ! But you don't look 
 as though you were joking. I hope you're never 
 cross, because Cousin Jack detests sharpness in 
 women." 
 
 This with a smile intended to be playful was 
 from Mrs. St. John. 
 
 I ignored the remark because had I spoken, 
 I could not have been polite, and I felt that I 
 had already showed unbecoming pique, which 
 these two would attribute to my general crude- 
 ness. 
 
 " You're an orphan, aren't you ? " began Mrs. 
 Allison. 
 
 " No." I did not explain further. 
 
 " Then," in a duet, <r how odd that your par- 
 ents are not here to meet you ! " This was ac- 
 companied by a raising of the eyebrows. 
 
 " My mother is dead ; my father is not in 
 good health." 
 
 " He's a minister, is he not ? " 
 
 " No." I felt a little faint. From the odors 
 of the dock ? 
 
 " What" Mrs. St. John broke off. I knew 
 she had started to say, " What is he ? " only the
 
 November. 49 
 
 direct question was a bit too abrupt and unwar- 
 ranted even for her. 
 
 " You know," said Mrs. Allison, in a sweet 
 voice, " we felt it awfully that Jack didn't ask 
 us to the wedding. Belle and I hardly knew 
 whether to come to meet you or not. Only we 
 are just like Jack's sisters, don't you know, and 
 have to forgive and forget." 
 
 How I wished they had not ! 
 
 " Was that nice-looking person in black your 
 maid ? " queried Mrs. St. John. She had made 
 an inventory of Perkins' clothes as she had of 
 mine. 
 
 " Yes." I began to wonder if there was a limit 
 to their questions. I knew there was to my en- 
 durance. 
 
 " You got her in Europe, of course ? She looks 
 English." 
 
 " She's an American, and I took her from this 
 side." 
 
 " Not from home ? " said both together. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Are you an only child ? " Mrs. St. John. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Where were you educated ? " Mrs. Allison. 
 
 " At home." 
 
 " Oh ! " in unison, with exchange of glances. 
 
 " Was it love at first sight ? " Mrs. St. John. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ? " I said, staring. 
 
 5
 
 5o Dainty Devils. 
 
 At that instant I saw Jack making his way 
 towards us among piles of luggage and groups 
 of more or less excited humanity. Are the pangs 
 of conscience produced by the knowledge of 
 smuggled articles reposing in divers nooks and 
 corners, responsible for the nervousness among 
 first-class passengers returning from Europe? 
 Jack says he declares everything and gets off 
 beautifully by paying the prescribed duty. He 
 contends that every honest citizen should do the 
 same. Granted even that the laws are a bit 
 severe and unreasonable, they are still laws sanc- 
 tioned by our Government, and no one deserves 
 to be an American who cannot say heartily, in 
 small matters as in great, " My Country ! Right 
 or wrong ! " Whether I loved Jack at first sight 
 or not, as I saw him cheerfully swinging towards 
 us across the pier, I loved him a little better than 
 ever before. He looked so contented and unhur- 
 ried in the midst of noisy confusion, that I felt 
 very secure of his ability to protect me from 
 everything even his cousins. 
 
 " Everything is attended to, and now we'll go 
 home. It was so lovely of you, Lou, to have 
 the carriage here. Wasn't it, Dot ? " 
 
 I am no stranger to fibbing, but the lie required 
 here would have choked a greater adept than I. 
 
 " What beautiful horses ! " I exclaimed, as 
 the trap drew up.
 
 November. 5 1 
 
 Now I knew better, I really did. I only did 
 not wish to be obliged to answer Jack's question. 
 Therefore when Mrs. St. John and Mrs. Alli- 
 son exchanged smiles, I was dreadfully angry. 
 
 Jack put me in first. 
 
 " You next, Lou/' he said, turning to Mrs. 
 Allison. " I know you can't ride backwards." 
 
 " Oh," laughed Mrs. Allison, " I mustn't sep- 
 arate bride and groom. Don't you want to sit 
 next to Mrs. Woodward ? " 
 
 I blushed with temper and of course Jack 
 thought it only pretty and becoming and natural 
 and all that, and he said, very gravely : 
 
 " I can see Dot all the better from the front 
 seat." 
 
 Mrs. Allison had not anticipated quite that an- 
 swer so she looked rather blank not to say fool- 
 ish as she sat down beside me. 
 
 It was less than half an hour's drive to the 
 house that was to be mine, and which I had 
 never seen. A horrible sense of not having been 
 trained for the part I was perforce to assume, 
 swept over me. The two finished women of the 
 world who were with us, appeared like menacing 
 precursors of a society which I felt was ready 
 to cut me to pieces. I wished wildly that Jack 
 and I had been alone. It seemed not too much 
 to ask that the first sight I had of my new 
 home should be without the company of outsiders.
 
 52 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Mrs. Allison talked incessantly, and half the time 
 Mrs. St. John's drawl dragged along simultane- 
 ously, with now and then a word or two in the 
 rear. 
 
 " What makes you so quiet, little one ? " asked 
 Jack, who while watching me, had been giving 
 random answers to his cousins. 
 
 I smiled at him for reply, and felt a lump com- 
 ing into my throat. Heavens ! Was I going to 
 cry? 
 
 " Are you always so silent ? " asked Mrs. St. 
 John, in a voice as sweet and airy as a meringue 
 glacee. 
 
 The struggle to speak was once more inef- 
 fectual, but happily the carriage stopped. I 
 looked out curiously, and beheld a big corner 
 house with an entrance imposing enough for a 
 European Art Gallery, facing what I knew must 
 be Central Park. I grew limp, mentally and phy- 
 sically. What should I do in that huge place ? 
 
 " We're home, darling," whispered Jack, as he 
 lifted me out. 
 
 Home ! I had a vague vision of the tiny cot- 
 tage at Graytown, its small white front door, 
 its narrow porch. I am ashamed for Jack's 
 sake to acknowledge that in those first moments 
 I was poignantly home-sick for that same white 
 front door which, to tell the truth, I had rather 
 disliked while I was at home. Going up the
 
 November. 53 
 
 stone steps I stumbled. Jack having turned to 
 answer a question of Mrs. St. John's, it was a 
 man in livery who hastily assisted me. I dimly 
 wondered if he also belonged to me. And I 
 longed desperately for Lame Ann. Perkins was 
 such a strain. How lovely it would be to hear 
 Lame Ann say, " No, I won't, Miss Dot ! " when 
 I particularly wished something done ! Jack had 
 warned me that I must not converse with Per- 
 kins, and I had faithfully obeyed. And " No, 
 Madam," " Yes, Madam," and " If you please, 
 Madam," had grown terribly wearing and monot- 
 onous. 
 
 Another man in livery was holding the door 
 open; we went through a tiled vestibule into the 
 hall. I saw a marble staircase carpeted in scar- 
 let. Farther back I saw pictures and potteries 
 and palms. The ceiling was very high, and 
 every thing looked more like some gorgeous pub- 
 lic place than a home for two people lately mar- 
 ried. Near the foot of the stair-case a tall, thin 
 person in black stood awaiting us. Jack shook 
 hands with her. 
 
 " Your mistress has come home, Mrs. Black- 
 well. This is the housekeeper, dear." 
 
 The woman bowed to me and I gravely bowed 
 back. I felt as if I had come to visit in her 
 house, and was taking a liberty by doing so. 
 
 " Lou and Belle will take you upstairs, Dot,"
 
 54 Dainty Devils. 
 
 said Jack, well-meaningly of course, but hurting 
 me grievously, " while I talk over a few matters 
 with Mrs. Blackwell. Perkins will arrive with 
 the small luggage in a few moments." 
 
 It was too much. Jack might as well say " To 
 the lions ! " as send me upstairs with Mrs. St. 
 John and her sister. Two big carved chairs 
 stood one on either side of the table in the hall. 
 Into one of them I sank and burst into tears. 
 
 " Why, Dot ! " 
 
 Jack forgot his cousins and the housekeeper 
 and was on his knees beside me. 
 
 " Oh, come with me, and send them all away ! " 
 I said, in German, sobbing abandonedly. 
 
 It was the housekeeper's voice that pulled me 
 together. 
 
 " Madam seems very tired," she said, in freez- 
 ing tones ; " I will send Burton with some wine." 
 
 " Thank you, I don't wish any wine," I said, 
 rising. " I will rest a bit, Jack, if your cousins 
 will pardon me. I am extremely tired." 
 
 " Have luncheon served to Mrs. Allison and 
 Mrs. St. John. Madam will remain upstairs. 
 You will excuse us, Lou, won't you ? " Jack was 
 as easy and calm as usual. 
 
 " Oh, we see we'll have to. Don't bother about 
 us, Jack ; you know we're quite at home. We'll 
 run in again some time to-morrow." 
 
 " Good morning," I said, dignifiedly as I could
 
 November. 55 
 
 with the consciousness of a red nose, and gath- 
 ering up my skirts in that final way I had already 
 learned. 
 
 " Thank you so much for meeting us," Jack 
 added, as he picked me up and carried me up- 
 stairs. 
 
 He put me down in the most beautiful room 
 I had ever seen all rose color and lace, and soft 
 white fur rugs. As he took off my wrap and 
 hat and lifted me on to the lovely couch near the 
 bay-window, I could answer his questioning 
 smile, which I knew meant, " Do you like it ? " 
 only by fresh tears. 
 
 How seldom are we in fitting shape to enjoy 
 the delights of the existing moment ! Upon my 
 arrival in my new dwelling-place I should have 
 been happily sensitive and responsive to the beau- 
 ty of my surroundings. Instead, I was in 
 a perfect tempest of emotions, and doubly irri- 
 tated because I knew what a satire my tears 
 were upon the sentiments which ought to have 
 been mine, when I came into the possession of 
 luxury of which I had never dreamed. A little 
 of the same feeling I experienced when, home- 
 sick for father, I started on that vast joy, a 
 trip to Europe. Some disturbing, heart-sick- 
 ening bitterness always mingles with the sweets 
 of life. I fancy it is this universal alloy in our 
 happiness that heightens all joys in the retro-
 
 56 Dainty Devils. 
 
 spect. The day I first saw the Matterhorn, my 
 head ached splittingly. Thinking of it now, I 
 feel the glory and grandeur of the mountain, 
 and ignore the memory of my puny personal 
 discomfort which at the time I fancied gigantic 
 Actually in the presence of the vast, magnificent, 
 sublime Matterhorn! It is delightfully true that 
 in looking back upon our pleasures, our rare 
 and precious experiences, petty flaws are lost in 
 the general perfection. Probably the day will 
 come when I shall remember my entry into my 
 pink-and-white bower as a moment of undiluted 
 joy; at present the two cousins are too vivid a 
 recollection. They were the thorns that pricked 
 deeply and caused me plentiful tears. 
 
 I do wish dear Jack might have been spared 
 the scene which is no doubt wishing for the im- 
 possible in his regard, since imperfect happiness 
 is the common lot. Clutching Jack hysterically, 
 I sobbed out something to this effect. 
 
 " All sweets ? Cloying sweets ? " he laughed, 
 in his deep clear voice. " Don't you know one 
 has to bite into something sharp once in a while, 
 to keep the zest for sweet things ? " 
 
 Good as he is, Jack did not mean this for 
 fault-finding, so I swallowed the hurt which he 
 unconsciously gave me by admitting that I had 
 indeed given him something " sharp to bite into." 
 After a while, soothed by his presence and de-
 
 November. 57 
 
 sultory talk, I dropped off asleep. When I 
 awoke, Jack's hand was on my forehead. 
 
 " I thought you were ill, dear ; you looked so 
 flushed." 
 
 " Oh, no," I said, jumping up. " I feel as 
 well as possible. And Jack, I'm awfully green 
 and I know it. But I shall not act like a baby 
 any more. What a love of a room! Is it all 
 real ? Oh, Jack will I ever get used to it ? " 
 
 My heart suddenly sank again. 
 
 " At once, you're so clever " 
 
 That part was meant for me alone. 
 
 Perkins was all in a tremor dressing me for 
 dinner that first night, and I sincerely sympa- 
 thized. The elegance seemed to intoxicate her. 
 For the first time since I left the ministrations 
 of Lame Ann, my hair was repeatedly pulled. 
 The climax was reached when Perkins, taking 
 the hand-mirror from me, let it fall. She turned 
 deathly white, between a superstitious horror and 
 the thought of breaking anything so costly as 
 a silver-backed mirror. The white fur rug was 
 thick and the glass remained intact. So Per- 
 kins' exclamation died into a meek apology for 
 clumsiness. It was all I could do to refrain 
 from telling her not to mind that I fully under- 
 stood her emotions.
 
 58 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Going down stairs Jack whispered that I 
 looked lovely how very lovely I should like to 
 look for his sake ! and he kissed me four times 
 before we reached the dining-room and the pres- 
 ence of servants. The butler and the second- 
 man were in the dining-room, and a parlor-maid 
 stationed in the pantry hovered visibly near the 
 shielding screen. The array of retainers at first 
 made me nervous. Two pairs of eyes being fixed 
 upon me, and a third pair snatching glimpses 
 from the ambush of the pantry, I had to affect 
 a nonchalance I did not feel. I was dying to look 
 about. Everywhere was a great lot of beautiful 
 things, and I mentally resolved to come in some 
 day when the coast was clear of servants, and 
 investigate my belongings. The possession of but 
 few things has its advantages ; one is lovingly 
 acquainted with each. There is no need of a 
 catalogue to find out what one has an obliga- 
 tion often imposed upon the possessor of vast 
 choses de luxe. It is not unlike the child wanting 
 the whole cake and getting it, and being after all 
 able to eat but one piece. 
 
 Jack's society, a fine dinner, and a little cham- 
 pagne, so rapidly restored my spirits that I soon 
 forgot the servants with their merciless eyes, and 
 talked away in reckless unconcern of undesira- 
 ble listeners. A sudden sharp cough from Jack, 
 and the lifting of his eyebrows, brought me to
 
 November. 59 
 
 an embarrassed silence. What had I been say- 
 ing? That I did not like either of his cousins, 
 and Mrs. St. John the less of the two, and where 
 were their husbands? They never mentioned 
 them. Oh, it seemed that Mr. St. John was at 
 a watering-place in Germany, for rheumatism, 
 and Mr. Allison was in New York and in excel- 
 lent health. How could Jack know that Mr. Al- 
 lison was very well, having never inquired. Here 
 the eyebrows went up. Oh, those servants ! I 
 had recourse to German. Jack responded very 
 composedly in that tongue, that a foreign lan- 
 guage would only be translated into unspeakable 
 conjectures, and really I must change the sub- 
 ject of conversation as Lou's maid was our but- 
 ler's sister.- As I never could tolerate spies, I 
 instantly resolved that Burton should be dis- 
 charged. I had yet to learn of my limita- 
 tions. 
 
 After the restriction put upon our discourse, 
 I felt throughout the dinner constrained and 
 rather provoked. While extremely attentive, 
 Jack grew ominously silent, and I knew he 
 wanted to prevent my talking if possible. By 
 the time we had settled ourselves in his den, and 
 his cigar was lighted, I had concluded there 
 was some good reason for his reserve in the din- 
 ing-room, and woman-like, yearned to know what 
 it was.
 
 6o Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Jack," I said, earnestly, " what is the matter 
 with Mr. St. John ?" 
 
 " I told you, you curious kitten. He is at a 
 cure for rheumatism." 
 
 " That's what you said. But the butler and 
 the other man exchanged glances when you made 
 that statement, and I saw the maid go into the 
 pantry smiling." 
 
 Jack blew the smoke in rings. What comfort 
 men find in smoke ! 
 
 " How pretty you look to-night, dear." 
 
 I got up and walked over to the fire-place, 
 where the gas logs were doing their make-believe- 
 open-fire-act. I was very indignant. 
 
 " What's the matter, Dot? " 
 
 " You know very well. I don't care to be 
 treated like a child." 
 
 Jack laughed provokingly. 
 
 " Then you mustn't act like one. And above 
 all," suddenly in serious tone, " you must not 
 let the servants' gossip or hints affect you. Re- 
 member, little one." 
 
 " That warning is not kind, Jack." 
 
 Jack immediately begged my pardon, saying 
 he did not know what had made him so suddenly 
 cross. I smiled a little for, if he were in 
 need of the information, I could easily enough 
 have told him that my question about Mr. St.
 
 November. 61 
 
 John had ruffled his natural composure. Nor was 
 I through with the subject. 
 
 Persistency is one of my strongest character- 
 istics. When I was a very small child I slipped 
 off one day with some older children who were 
 going swimming. Some one carried the news to 
 Lame Ann, who flew to my father with the an- 
 nouncement that I had " Gone to be drowned." 
 Father took the information calmly. " Don't 
 worry, Ann. The child will swim." And so 
 I did, after many trials. I was the last one 
 home, still I had succeeded in what I had at- 
 tempted, and until then I would not leave. Pos- 
 sessed of the same spirit, as soon as Jack was 
 decently amiable I went back to Mr. St. John. 
 
 " Has he anything besides rheumatism, Jack ?" 
 
 And Jack the imperturbable, answered : 
 
 " Not that I know of." 
 
 So for the time being, I gave up. It was one 
 of the times that I failed to swim. 
 
 The first morning at home began very brightly 
 but clouded over somewhat when Jack announced 
 that he must go down to the " Street." I had 
 been so used to having Jack always with me, 
 that I pouted very much at the " Street," and 
 Jack left me with a rather severe, " It's upon 
 business, little one. Good-bye."
 
 62 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Feeling very lonesome I went into the library 
 to write to father. I had not finished the first 
 page before the housekeeper knocked at the door. 
 She came to ask if I had any orders about the 
 meals. I said not at present. She could do as 
 usual. It was a great relief to be rid of her. I 
 had intended to tell her that the butler was to be 
 discharged, but I could not muster the courage. 
 Indeed,! have an unpleasant idea that the woman's 
 inscrutable countenance might be interpreted 
 " Unconditional Surrender " for her enemies, and 
 at present I do not feel like evoking any more 
 foes than absolute necessity demands particu- 
 larly in this case where I never in propriety could 
 surrender. 
 
 Besides, Burton might not smile again I mean 
 out of season. 
 
 I wrote on industriously, and knowing that 
 there were a great many servants in the house, I 
 paid no attention to bells or footsteps or anything 
 of the sort. Therefore it was startling to say 
 the least when the library-door opened and I 
 heard my name not " Dot," but " Gretchen," 
 and only one in all the world calls me that. Of 
 course it was father. 
 
 The joy of that meeting, the delight of tell- 
 ing him all about our trip everything, even the 
 girl who copied the menus the emotion at the 
 sight of his emotion when I related the particu-
 
 November. 63 
 
 lars of our visit to his cousin, the Baron von 
 Holtz, are not to be described in ordinary Eng- 
 lish. The twenty-four hours dear father stayed 
 were like a happy dream. And his words at part- 
 ing were a prophecy 
 
 " You have much, Gretchen. Probably more 
 
 than any lady of your line ever had before. Still, 
 
 do not expect to find no thorns. There will be 
 
 many, and you will need courage and tact. Never 
 
 , forget, mein Mddchen, who you are." 
 
 Father kissed me on the forehead a great many 
 times, murmured a prayer in German when 
 pious, or extraordinarily tender or poetical, he 
 always uses German and entered the car as 
 the train started. 
 
 Although Jack was with me, I cried. I won- 
 der if I should have loved father less frantically 
 had I had a mother? 
 
 Jack went from the station to Wall Street and 
 I drove home alone. Pensive and quiet, deli- 
 ciously sad, I entered the house. It would be 
 very agreeable indeed to go upstairs to that lovely 
 room and rest till Jack came home. The unac- 
 customed luxury of my new life is creating all 
 kinds of new requirements. In Graytown I never 
 needed rest beyond my sleep at night, while here 
 I find that a certain amount of mooning is nec- 
 essary for the maintenance of mental poise. It 
 was with the most self-indulgent resolution of
 
 64 Dainty Devils. 
 
 doing nothing, that I reflected we had lunched 
 early, on account of father's leaving, and I should 
 have a long indolent afternoon to dream in be- 
 fore five o'clock. 
 
 Should I? 
 
 The cyclone struck me just within the door. 
 It was dual, and rustled of silk. It was lowering 
 and indignant although forcing some make-be- 
 lieve smiles. 
 
 " Why Dot ! "who told Mrs. Allison to call 
 me Dot ? " How could you be so mean ? Here 
 the Times says Count von Waldeck has been 
 visiting his daughter, Mrs. J. Worthington 
 Woodward, lately returned from Europe, and 
 you never sent us any word. We simply flew 
 here, and are too late after all." 
 
 " I don't think you were a bit nice," drawled 
 Mrs. St. John ; " and who ever would have 
 thought you were a count's daughter ! " 
 
 I took a sudden resolution. I would not be 
 rude to these women to-day. I would be over- 
 whelmingly sweet, and myself take the initiative 
 in questioning. I wondered why I had been such 
 a simpleton the day we arrived. The situation 
 seemed such a simple one now. 
 
 " Father was here to welcome me back," I 
 said, angelically. " Crosson," to the man who 
 still stood in the hall, " send Perkins for my 
 .wraps. Come into the library, cousins."
 
 November. 65 
 
 " But it's half-after-one, and we haven't 
 lunched. Burton said he didn't know what time 
 you'd be back." 
 
 Botheration ! I should have to feed these 
 women before I could torment them ! 
 
 " Crosson," I added, the effort at self-control 
 causing me to exceed Belle St. John's drawl, 
 " tell Burton to serve luncheon for two." 
 
 " Three," corrected Lou Allison. 
 
 " Two," I repeated severely, as the man hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 " Who is to fast ?" asked Belle St. John. 
 
 " I lunched before I went out." 
 
 We went to the library where Perkins imme- 
 diately appeared. As she left the room, Belle 
 St. John spoke, soon enough for Perkins to catch 
 the words. 
 
 " It doesn't seem to disconcert you to have 
 so many servants about. I fancied people had 
 to get used to it." 
 
 " How many have you ? " I asked, coolly. 
 
 " Oh, I board with Lou. I'm a poor relation 
 and Lou is not very wealthy." 
 
 I scanned the clothes the woman had on and 
 the diamonds upon her thin fingers. She is ap- 
 pallingly thin, even much thinner than I at first 
 thought; still, without any possible shape, she 
 contrives to be stunningly stylish. I believe Dr. 
 
 5
 
 66 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Holmes meant Elsie Vernier to have that kind 
 of a figure snaky and writhing and fascinatingly 
 graceful. What a clumsy dumpling am I beside 
 Belle St. John! 
 
 " People's ideas of poverty must vary greatly," 
 I said. 
 
 " Mine is abject, I assure you," asserted Belle. 
 " You see, my dear little girl, Lou and I were 
 brought up in this house by Jack's mother, who 
 was our father's sister. Jack is exactly the same 
 as a brother to us, and if Jack didn't pay for my 
 gowns, I'd have to wear Japanese paper. Now, 
 when the servants repeat these interesting facts 
 to you, you won't be shocked although I see you 
 are at present." 
 
 I would not give in. That woman lying back 
 in her chair with her eyes half-closed should not 
 get the better of me. In spite of these resolutions 
 my heart thumped with temper as I put the next 
 question. 
 
 " Why doesn't your husband buy your 
 gowns ? " 
 
 Belle St. John started up into a straight, alert 
 position. 
 
 " Who told you anything about my husband ? " 
 she asked, sharply, her drowsy eyes suddenly 
 turned into flames. 
 
 " You are called Mrs. St. John, and Jack had 
 not mentioned that your husband was dead."
 
 November. 67 
 
 " He's not dead," said the woman, excitedly ; 
 " I wish he were." 
 
 " Oh, Belle ! " interrupted her sister. " How 
 can you? You have made Dot deathly pale. 
 Belle and her husband didn't live very happily, 
 Dot, like lots of us, and he is at Wiesbaden for 
 rheumatism." 
 
 The butler coughed at the door. We all three 
 jumped. 
 
 " How long have you been there, Burton? " I 
 asked, impulsively. Oh, yes, I have a great deal 
 to learn. I am less than six months from Gray- 
 town. 
 
 " Just this minute, Madam. Luncheon is 
 served." 
 
 Belle did not speak at the table. She had 
 two hot spots on her cheeks, and kept Burton fill- 
 ing her glass with sherry, which somehow acted 
 like rouge upon her face. Conversing with Lou 
 Allison about Rome, I nervously watched Belle 
 growing redder and redder. Lou seemed to 
 know all the Italian nobility and was plainly dis- 
 gusted that Jack had not taken me to call upon 
 them. I told her we had made no visits except 
 one, at my father's cousin's. 
 
 " Who is he ? " she inquired, eagerly. 
 
 " Baron von Holtz." 
 
 " Oh, you really are of noble blood, aren't you? 
 Jack never breathed it to us, and we'd no idea
 
 68 Dainty Devils. 
 
 of it. That article in the Times quite startled 
 us. But how awful that your father had to be 
 a music-teacher! They are such queer people, 
 generally, with long hair, don't you know." 
 
 " Father is quite bald. And teaching has not 
 changed his blood." 
 
 " Nor yours," laughed Lou Allison. " You're 
 a spunky little thing." 
 
 My visitors departed immediately luncheon was 
 over, leaving me oddly weary and listless, also 
 doubtful of the compliment of having people 
 come only for luncheon. Besides, to my unso- 
 phisticated mind, Belle St. John had had a great 
 deal too much sherry, and I felt responsible. 
 
 It was almost five, o'clock when a card came 
 up to me. Mr. Arnold Whitney Allison 'Lou's 
 husband, undoubtedly. Quite nervous through 
 curiosity, I went downstairs to meet this stranger. 
 
 Mr. Allison had been shown into the large 
 drawing-room. He was standing as I entered, 
 and instantly came forward. I do not know why 
 I was so astonished at his appearance, as I had 
 no possible reason for having any preconceived 
 idea of him, except that he seemed so totally out 
 of keeping .with his wife. He was at least six 
 inches shorter and three or four years younger 
 than she. As for his manner, it was reserved, 
 even diffident, and decidedly that of a gentle- 
 man. His face was pale, plain, very square-
 
 November. 69 
 
 jawed, and clean-shaven. Altogether he might 
 have been very appropriately a clergyman the 
 kind that all the young girls of the parish would 
 not fall in love with because he was handsome. 
 Good looks and the Litany are a fatally touching 
 combination. 
 
 " I am so glad you were at home, Mrs. Wood- 
 ward," he said, sincerely, " because it's so much 
 nicer meeting this way for the first time instead 
 of at the dinner." 
 
 "The dinner?" I echoed, "I'm delighted to 
 see you, but I haven't been asked to any dinner as 
 yet." 
 
 " Then I've given away a secret. Mr. Wood- 
 ward must have been planning a surprise for you. 
 Whether you know it or not, you've cards out 
 for a dinner on the twentieth." 
 
 We both laughed ; I felt quite at ease and im- 
 mediately liked Mr. Allison. 
 
 He talked well upon lots of subjects, in a 
 quiet, attention-compelling way, and I found out 
 that he played the violin "Just a little." Now 
 father says that such people usually play excep- 
 tionally well. So I asked him to bring his vio- 
 lin next time. That made him laugh most heart- 
 ily indeed. He said he would think about it. 
 
 I was sorry when he left. In fact I asked 
 him not to go, at which he looked a trifle sur- 
 prised, and explained rather elaborately that he
 
 70 Dainty Devils. 
 
 had another call upon his conscience which must 
 be made before dinner. I judge it would have 
 been more elegant not to have requested him to 
 remain longer. But it had been so delightful to 
 converse with some one who was not criticising 
 me. Jack will have to coach me considerably 
 before it will be safe to leave me alone in the 
 intricacies of society's etiquette. Thus far the 
 code seems to be " Say all that you do not mean 
 Nothing that you do." I felt so shy and em- 
 barrassed at the thought that I had made a mis- 
 take in Mr. Allison's case, that I forgot, as we 
 said good-bye, to remind him to bring his violin 
 the next time. 
 
 Jack came home earlier than I expected. As 
 soon as his first burst of petting me was over 
 I began to tell him of all his two cousins had 
 said and done, as well as how very nice Mr. Alli- 
 son was, and how I could not comprehend why 
 he ever married Lou. 
 
 " Why, my darling," exclaimed Jack, who per- 
 sists in believing I am an angel and is therefore 
 proportionately shocked each time I prove I am 
 not, " how cruel your small tongue is getting ! " 
 
 " Now, -Jack, I want to hear the whole story. 
 How long did they live here, and when did they 
 go, and what is the matter with Mr. St. John?" 
 
 Jack pulled his moustache and looked gravely 
 at me as I sat upon his knee.
 
 November. 71 
 
 " You won't sleep well if I don't tell you, I 
 suppose ? " he asked, with a tinge of naughty 
 sarcasm. 
 
 " No, I shan't sleep at all," I returned, defi- 
 antly. 
 
 " Well, Lou and Belle are the twin daughters 
 of my mother's brother. Left orphans, and with- 
 out means, my mother took them and brought 
 them up as my sisters. Belle married St. John 
 when she was nineteen. It was a desperate love- 
 match, but St. John was a wild boy and no one 
 approved of it. Between his riotous living and 
 Belle's extravagance, they got into dreadful debt, 
 and ahem St. John overdrew, you know, so 
 he went to Europe for an indefinite period." 
 
 " Then he is a thief ! " I cried, shocked, horri- 
 fied. 
 
 " You musn't call it that, dear. Nobody in 
 society does." 
 
 " But I don't want to be in society if such 
 people are its constituents. And to think, Jack, 
 that swindler's wife has been insolent to me! 
 Why, my father would have starved in honor, 
 and have seen me starve " 
 
 " I know all that, my dear little girl," Jack 
 interrupted, rather hastily. " All the world is 
 unfortunately not like your father." 
 
 " What disgrace hangs over Lou ? " I asked,
 
 72 Dainty Devils. 
 
 coldly, for I did not feel that he half appreciated 
 my father. 
 
 Jack started. 
 
 " None, Dot. What made you ask that ? " 
 
 " I am getting skeptical, that's all. She's older 
 and taller and much giddier than Mr. Allison." 
 
 " Truly, dear, for a child brought up in the 
 country, you are most precocious." 
 
 " The result of spending five months in the 
 society of my clever husband. Jack, dear," I said, 
 nestling into his shoulder, " you won't pretend 
 Lou married him for love ? " 
 
 " I never asked her, and she never told me." 
 
 " Oh, Jack, you are awfully unkind. Tell me 
 how that match was made. I wager it wasn't 
 in Heaven." 
 
 Jack sighed, shook his head at my incorrigi- 
 bility and finally began in a resigned sort of 
 fashion : 
 
 " Dot, it may seem strange to your youth and 
 inexperience, but women often marry because cir- 
 cumstances cause marriage to be the most prac- 
 ticable and reasonable step. Lou had half-a- 
 dozen offers while very young. She refused 
 them, and was still single at twenty-seven, when 
 my mother suddenly died. What could she do? 
 I was a bachelor and she couldn't stay here. Nat- 
 urally she went to her sister's, where Belle and 
 St. John had not yet separated, but were leading
 
 November. 73 
 
 a most wretched life. A year later, when St. 
 John's disgrace came, Allison stood ready to 
 marry Lou and take Belle to her sister's home. 
 It was only to be expected that Lou would accept 
 him with gratitude which she did." 
 
 " Oh," I said, in extreme contempt, " to marry 
 a man for a home ! I'd rather be hung." 
 
 " I believe you would, dear. Lou wouldn't, 
 however at least at that time," he added, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " So all this is why you pay for Belle's 
 gowns ? " 
 
 " That's not the way to put it. It was my 
 mother's request that I should make an allow- 
 ance of two thousand a year to each of the girls. 
 Needless to say, I do so, and I haven't the slight- 
 est doubt that every penny of it goes for clothes." 
 
 " Do you know, Jack," I asked, faintly, my 
 face under the lapel of his coat, " that father and 
 I and Lame Ann lived in Graytown on five hun- 
 dred a year ? " 
 
 " Dear little thing ! " said Jack The rest was 
 not interesting except for us two. 
 
 Jack told me this morning that I must take 
 the carriage and call on Lou and Belle. The re- 
 quest was not so awfully unwelcome, for I actu- 
 ally was longing to see the house where Lou and
 
 74 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Belle were so poor How must their clothes look 
 in an abode deserving that adjective? Quite 
 like Cinderella's ball-gown in the step-mother's 
 kitchen, I fancied. 
 
 I went down the steps of my own home as 
 slowly as I could, to prolong the pleasure of gaz- 
 ing upon the beautiful, shiny horses with their 
 harness glittering in the sun. I am finding lots 
 of compensation for never having had much as 
 a child and growing girl. The comfort and lux- 
 ury are duly appraised as I meet them always 
 provided I am in the mental condition to be as 
 it were two personalities ; one who undergoes 
 the experience ; the other, who observes and en- 
 joys the pleasure of the real participant. 
 
 The day I arrived in New York I enjoyed 
 nothing, because after the ordeal at the pier I 
 hardly seemed half an individual, let alone two. 
 This morning, however, I was beautifully nerved 
 up to appreciation of all the glories of my new 
 existence, and when the footman put the fur robe 
 over my lap and tucked in my feet, and then 
 straightened up with his hand on the door, ask- 
 ing, " Where to, Madam ?'' I again thought of 
 Cinderella; something like this was her emotion 
 going to the ball. Having given Lou's address, 
 the door slammed and the horses started and I 
 slipped off my gloves to run my fingers deep into 
 the lovely fur which seemed so comfortable and
 
 November. 75 
 
 light and warm on this cold, bleak day. Sud- 
 denly a disturbing thought of some poor old peo- 
 ple in Graytown, who shivered all winter, flashed 
 into my brain. Formerly, in poor little jackets 
 grown thin from wear and brushing, and short 
 because I grew taller, I often shivered myself; 
 therefore I have a close acquaintance with the 
 sensation and know how extremely unpleasant 
 and miserable it is. People who have never been 
 cold through want of sufficient clothing, cannot 
 sympathize with the shivering. I made up my 
 mind to ask Jack the minute I got home to send 
 those old people some fur things like the carriage- 
 robes. 
 
 The horses had stopped. It was in a street 
 where fine old residences were being rapidly 
 transformed into milliners' shops, dressmakers' 
 establishments and Italian restaurants. I knew 
 nothing of the former status of the neighbor- 
 hood, of course, till I asked Jack later why Lou 
 had taken a house where there were so many 
 business-places. He told me the Allison family 
 had lived in that house for forty years, and that 
 for old homes to be turned into shops was only 
 the general fate of lower New York. It seemed 
 to me a vast pity. 
 
 A man in gorgeous livery answered the bell. 
 His manner of absolute self-control at first 
 stunned and then made me quite envious. Mrs.
 
 76 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Allison was at home; Mrs. St. John had gone 
 out. 
 
 I was shown into a reception-room, dusty, un- 
 inviting and untidily shabby. Not poverty- 
 stricken, like our rooms at home in Graytown, but 
 worn and neglected-looking, although some of 
 the things might have done very well if Lame 
 Ann could have rubbed them up a bit. The 
 floor was of hard wood, waxed in some remote 
 period and since left to its own devices. The 
 moving of chairs here and there had made it 
 look something like the ice when the first boys 
 have skated over it, only of course not near so 
 clean. My eyes had wandered to the medley of 
 pictures upon the walls, when Lou came down. 
 
 " Oh, I'm so glad to see you ! How funny 
 to come in the morning! Still, you're a cousin, 
 you know, and I'm glad you begin to act like 
 one. Don't look at me, please, as my toilette is 
 still to be made." 
 
 She had kissed me and pulled me down upon 
 a couch beside her. I thought she looked exceed- 
 ingly pretty in a long, loose, orange-colored satin 
 thing with black velvet bows to tie it together. 
 But at eleven o'clock in the morning ! 
 
 " Jack told me to call to-day," I said, foolishly, 
 " and he didn't mention whether I should go in 
 the morning or the afternoon." 
 
 " Actually, Dot, your obedience is delicious !
 
 November. 77 
 
 I wonder how long you'll keep it up ? But, can- 
 didly, you interrupted my breakfast. Would you 
 mind coming upstairs ? " 
 
 The house is what is called a " basement," and 
 the drawing-room and the dining-room are up- 
 stairs. Astonished to hear that Lou breakfasted 
 at such an hour, I asked her if she were ill. 
 
 " Oh, dear no ! " she exclaimed, putting her 
 arm about my waist as we went upstairs ; " I 
 went to bed at three and was making up my 
 beauty-sleep." 
 
 " What kept you up so late? " 
 
 " Oh, that's not late. You'll be doing the 
 same and worse. Wait, and we'll see. We went 
 to the theatre and had supper afterward at Mrs. 
 Layton's. That's all. Sit down, Dot. Have 
 some coffee ? " 
 
 " No, thank you." 
 
 Lou tasted some from her cup. She made a 
 face, a studied one I think, for it was very be- 
 coming. 
 
 " Dear me ! Stone cold." 
 
 She rang. No one answered. She rang again. 
 Still nobody came. Then she rang furiously. 
 When the man who had opened the door for 
 me appeared, I expected him to be annihilated 
 upon the spot. Lou merely told him to bring 
 some hot coffee. He departed, grinning. 
 
 " I thought you'd scold him," I said, amazed.
 
 78 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Lou laughed. Her laugh was, against my will, 
 making me like her. 
 
 " My child," she said, cheerfully, " you will 
 probably never know what it is to owe a servant 
 six months' wages. I do, and I know when si- 
 lence is a necessity." 
 
 " You don't owe a servant money ? " I was 
 shocked. 
 
 " Don't I ! The cook leaves this afternoon, 
 my dear. I only owe her for two months, but 
 she's canny and won't risk any longer. Davis is 
 insolent and lazy, but he stays, Dot. I sus- 
 pect that he's stealing the wine and selling it 
 still another might do the same, you know, and 
 expect wages in addition." 
 
 Lou rang again. This time Davis' appearance 
 was instantaneous. 
 
 " More rolls, Davis." 
 
 " There are no more, Madam." 
 
 Lou flushed. The next second her laugh car- 
 ried the incident off as usual. My head would 
 have dropped ; hers went higher. 
 
 " You may go, Davis," she said, calmly, to the 
 man. 
 
 "It's well I'm going out to dinner, isn't it? 
 You see I shan't need any luncheon, and my 
 dinner is assured cook or no cook, and nothing 
 to speak of in the pantry."
 
 November. 79 
 
 I was at a loss, as Lou certainly appeared to 
 be in earnest. 
 
 " How is Mr. Allison ? " I asked, in the desire 
 to change the subject. 
 
 Lou set down her cup and shook her finger at 
 me. 
 
 " Yes, how ? Dot, my husband has never 
 flirted in his life. And he seems immensely 
 taken with you. Beware ! " 
 
 I flushed, drawing myself up most indignantly. 
 
 " Mrs. Allison, I am a married woman," I said, 
 haughtily. 
 
 Lou shook with laughter. 
 
 " You are. And do you think that makes any 
 difference? Why, my dear, single women don't 
 get divorces, you know." 
 
 " But," I said, shaking over the insult, " you 
 don't call any divorced woman a lady, do you? 
 In Graytown we do not consider them even 
 respectable. As for me, I am a von Waldeck, 
 as well as Jack's wife." 
 
 Lou became suddenly very serious. Her slim 
 index finger tapped the table. 
 
 " Dot, you must learn to be careful what you 
 say. My own mother was divorced before she 
 married Jack's uncle." A sort of defiant haugh- 
 tiness was in the tone, and a strange tenseness ap- 
 peared in Lou's bare, slender neck. 
 
 " I didn't know," I said, embarrassed. " If I
 
 8o Dainty Devils. 
 
 had, I would not have expressed myself to you. 
 However, my feeling remains the same." 
 
 Lou suddenly relaxed. 
 
 " There ! I shan't be angry with you. You're 
 only a child brought up in the woods, after all. 
 O-O-oh ! Don't get excited again. Such temper 
 in so small an individual frightens me. Come! 
 Do you indulge ? " 
 
 She had turned her chair about, and opened 
 a drawer of the buffet. To my complete horror, 
 she took out a silver box full of cigarettes and 
 smilingly held it out to me. 
 
 " You're not in earnest ? " I gasped. 
 
 The box held a match-safe. Lou lighted a 
 cigarette, placed it between her lips and threw 
 her head back, puffing rapidly. 
 
 " Turkish," she said, after a moment. " Just 
 a trace of opium and so inexpressibly sooth- 
 ing." 
 
 She looked so pretty, so reckless and so totally 
 unladylike, that between conflicting impressions 
 and stupidity I was speechless. 
 
 " Does your husband approve of it ? " I asked, 
 at last. 
 
 " Don't know." 
 
 " But doesn't he smell it when you kiss him ? 
 I always know when Jack has been smok- 
 ing." 
 
 Lou took the cigarette from her lips and burst
 
 November. 81 
 
 into the loudest laugh I had yet heard from her, 
 although it seemed that she was almost always 
 laughing. 
 
 " Kiss him ! " she fairly screamed. " Why, I 
 think Arnold would drop dead if I should do 
 that. My little child, we haven't even shaken 
 hands for more than six months." 
 
 " And yet," I said, tears coming into my eyes, 
 " you seem so dreadfully happy and gay. Oh, 
 how can you laugh at me so ? " 
 
 I stood up, hurt, unhappy, insulted. 
 
 " Don't go. Please don't. You are so deli- 
 ciously unusual. I promise not to laugh any 
 more if I can help it." She burst out again. 
 
 I knew I was right but I felt foolish and in- 
 significant in the presence of her ridicule. We 
 put as many false valuations upon ourselves as 
 ever we do upon others. I did not exactly wish 
 I were like Lou Allison, but I did wish, just then, 
 that I did not care what other people did. I 
 think I understand why Cain asked, " Am I my 
 brother's keeper ? " He probably felt that under 
 ordinary conditions the question would be just 
 and reasonable, the responsibility for one's own 
 sins seeming to be sufficient for one's conscience 
 to undertake, without the super-added doings or 
 undoings of relatives and friends. 
 
 Lou was bright, fascinating, interesting to an 
 uncommon degree. Why could I not be indif- 
 6
 
 82 Dainty Devils. 
 
 ferent to what she did? I had known her only 
 a few days and began by hating her. And here 
 I was bitterly regretting that I had dared to 
 condemn something she did ! The power of rid- 
 icule is stupendous, especially if the victim be 
 a woman. No wonder the utmost penalty will 
 be meted out to him who says to his brother, 
 " Thou Fool ! " 
 
 Flight seemed the only resource for my col- 
 lapsing dignity. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mrs. Allison," I said, half- 
 blind with mortification and tears. 
 
 Lou threw her cigarette away and was after 
 me on the stairs. 
 
 " Please don't be angry, Dot. And I wanted 
 to hear all about the dinner you're to give ! Belle 
 and I are getting new gowns for it." 
 
 " I'm not angry," I said, relenting entirely. 
 " But I must go." 
 
 She went all the way to the door with me and 
 kissed me good-bye. No matter what she may 
 say or do, I cannot hate Lou Allison, although I 
 want to. 
 
 Jack had told me that I ought to take a look 
 at the shops Sixth Avenue for lesser elegance 
 and Broadway and Fifth Avenue for the places 
 where swelldom is fitted out. So I told the foot- 
 man I would take that drive. We went down 
 Sixth Avenue how clever of the coachman to
 
 November. 83 
 
 leave the choicest things for the end! and the 
 first place that fascinated me was a big confec- 
 tioner's on a corner. They had in the window 
 such charming-looking things filled with cream 
 and piled up on a dish, that I immediately wanted 
 some for luncheon. Accordingly I touched the 
 little electric button and the carriage stopped. 
 When the footman opened the door, he evidently 
 thought I wanted him to go in and order some- 
 thing. I walked past him and into the confec- 
 tioner's. 
 
 " I want all those cream things you have in 
 the window/' I said to the young girl in attend- 
 ance. 
 
 She stared at me. 
 
 After a moment, " They're paper, Madam," 
 said she. " We can have your order filled and 
 delivered by four this afternoon. How many, 
 please ? " 
 
 I had recovered myself. 
 
 " Two dozen," I said, calmly, and gave my 
 name and address. 
 
 As I did so, the portion of a black velvet hat 
 that I had noticed behind the counter at the end 
 of the shop, suddenly became a whole stylish 
 creation, with a face beneath it. I could not 
 move I was so surprised, for it was Belle St. 
 John who straightened up and called to me. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? Don't you know
 
 84 Dainty Devils. 
 
 you belong at Sherry's ? " She held a partially 
 eaten bun in her hand and whisked some crumbs 
 off her jacket with a pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " I had an order to give/' I returned, stiffly ; 
 " but what are you doing here ? " 
 
 Belle bit into her bun. 
 
 " Having my luncheon. These buns are good 
 and cost only five cents. They are also filling. 
 Lou's cook is leaving and famine has begun to 
 reign at home, while a prospective dinner this 
 evening is too far in the perspective to allow 
 appreciation of its proper proportions. Oh, don't 
 look so astonished, Dot ! Lots of the aristocracy 
 come here to hide behind the counter and eat 
 a bun. Look ! Here comes a couple now." 
 
 Two pretty young girls, who greeted Belle 
 by her name, had come into the place. 
 
 " Good morning," I said, hastily, and hurried 
 for the door before Belle could get in any more. 
 Perhaps it was wicked pride, but I did not want 
 those girls to believe that I too had been behind 
 the counter eating a bun. In our poorest days 
 I never was obliged to snatch a meal in such a 
 fashion. 
 
 " Home," I said to the footman. " I don't care 
 about any more shops." 
 
 Jack found me cuddled up in a chair in the 
 library.
 
 November. 85 
 
 " Jack," I said, wearily, reaching up to pull 
 his head down close as he stooped over me. 
 " I've learned so much to-day, that I think my 
 head must be swelling. And Jack, how poor are 
 the Allisons ? " 
 
 " Oh, you dreadful piece of feminine curiosity ! 
 If you have a wild desire to know the amount of 
 their income, Allison has ten thousand a year." 
 
 " And you give her two more," I cried, sit- 
 ting up so suddenly that I bumped Jack's head. 
 " Jack, I know two paralytics in Graytown who 
 would starve and freeze to death were it not for 
 the little that Uncle Dalton gives them each win- 
 ter. Oh, won't you give them the two thou- 
 sand?" 
 
 " My poor child, how excited you are ! You 
 shall have something for your paralytics, cer- 
 tainly. And still Lou need not be denied what 
 my mother wished her to have." 
 
 " Oh, Jack, how good you are ! " 
 
 " Have you been good to-day ? " he asked, seri- 
 ously. " Did you practice ? " 
 
 I hung my head. There must be a frivolous, 
 shirking streak in me somewhere, for since I 
 have been here in this big house with all its 
 novelty and distractions, I do not find my old 
 ambitions troublesomely clamorous for attention. 
 Had poverty not made discipline and self-denial 
 imperative at Graytown, and lots of money and
 
 86 Dainty Devils. 
 
 no obligations been mine, I wonder if I might 
 not be to-day a counterpart of Lou or Belle ? 
 
 It is the day after my dinner. I cannot say 
 that the occasion was one of unclouded joy. 
 First the women made me nervous, because their 
 gowns, with the exception of one worn by a love- 
 ly young girl, were most shockingly abbreviated 
 in the bodice, and I was the only one with any 
 kind of a sleeve and even my sleeves amounted 
 to very little, being, indeed, what Lame Ann 
 would call " Hardly worth the bother." When 
 the first woman entered the drawing-room a 
 stout elderly creature with the tendons of her 
 neck painfully prominent, as though the plump- 
 ness had receded from them like the tide when it 
 goes down and exposes the skeleton of the pier 
 I fancied that her maid had left some kind 
 of a string untied, and longed to tell her, only 
 I did not know how to accomplish the hint with 
 Jack and the woman's husband present. How- 
 ever, my idea of the untied string vanished when 
 Lou and Belle arrived or else more maids had 
 been heedless that night. All the guests having 
 come and about all the bodices being cut upon 
 the same lines, I concluded that I was simply 
 facing the fashion. Until then I fancied that 
 only ballet-dancers wore such things. I had been
 
 November. 87 
 
 at a play once at the Town Hall in Graytown, 
 and not one of the actresses had worn a gown 
 made in a style to cavil at. So I concluded that 
 the obnoxious people one heard about were the 
 ballet-dancers. At my dinner last night I wished 
 these New York society-women would take the 
 actresses as an example. 
 
 In spite of their objectionable gowns, my 
 guests had a vivacity, a self-possession and a 
 grace, which I envied from the bottom of my 
 heart. Two in particular interested me intensely. 
 They were mother and daughter. The mother 
 was the handsomest woman I have ever seen. 
 Jack told me afterward that she is barely forty, 
 although her hair is snow white; above her 
 dark eyes and black eyebrows it is too beautiful 
 for words, all soft and fluffy in a pompadour 
 without any " rat " or curling-iron. The daugh- 
 ter is twenty, very tall and slender, with wavy 
 black hair, eyes like her mother's, a lovely pale, 
 high-bred face and a voice so seductive that one 
 wants to hear her talk all the time. This she 
 does not, seeming often distraite, and as if under 
 all her serenity there was something troubling 
 her. Her gown being much less decolletee than 
 the others, I wondered if she was worried about 
 the rest, as I was. Once while I was looking 
 at her worshippingly, she glanced up, straight 
 into my eyes. We both smiled, and I think that
 
 88 Dainty Devils. 
 
 each smile said to the other pair of eyes, " I love 
 you." 
 
 I did not eat anything except one oyster at the 
 beginning and one little frozen thing at the end. 
 There were too many distractions. I confess 
 besides that I was mortally hungry and might 
 have eaten heartily had I known how to help 
 myself to the complicated concoctions that were 
 in such a matter-of-fact way presented at my left 
 elbow. The array of knives and forks and 
 glasses was paralyzing to my pathetically limited 
 code, and I went wrong at the very start by 
 putting the fish-fork into a poor little oyster. 
 Looking up immediately in the most hideously 
 frightened way to see if any one had observed, 
 I met Mr. Allison's gaze. Had he glanced away 
 I should have known that he felt guilty of hav- 
 ing caught me in a break. What grand attain- 
 ment to be master of such self-control ! As I 
 laid down the fork and pushed it under my plate 
 to save it for the fish, I almost laughed aloud 
 at an absurd recollection of our trip to the North 
 Cape last August. We had stopped, about noon, 
 at a little cottage that took the place of an inn, 
 and were most hospitably invited to partake of 
 the midday meal. The bare table did not sur- 
 prise us, nor the wooden bowl full of potatoes 
 boiled in the peel, which stood steaming in the 
 center of the broad expanse of wood. We sat
 
 November. 89 
 
 down, expectantly, made cheerful by the host's 
 encouraging smiles. But with each second, our 
 cheerfulness shrank. Jack looked at me, and I 
 at him. Finally convinced that plates, knives, 
 forks, etcetera, were not forthcoming, Jack said 
 to the interpreter, " Ask him how we are to eat 
 them?" The question being duly translated, a 
 beautiful look of unselfish pity at our ignorance 
 overspread the Norwegian's face. 
 
 " Eat them, one after the other," he said, be- 
 nignly. 
 
 That meal and my coming-out dinner might be 
 used as the two extremes of civilized eating. 
 One cannot call the Norwegian a savage, because 
 he is a Christian, and has a house and bed- 
 steads and a table. The episode of the fish-fork 
 made me long for the primeval privilege of eat- 
 ing with the fingers, " one after the other," with- 
 out further embarrassment than the limit of the 
 number of potatoes in the bowl, or the stomach's 
 capacity. . 
 
 Well, I watched and I shall know better next 
 time. I wonder what Lame Ann would say to 
 vinegar and oil being served on sliced oranges 
 as a salad, and to real roses sticking, frozen 
 and dead, into each form of ice-cream! To my 
 taste the poor, ill-treated flowers did not look 
 a bit pretty, and they impressed me as having 
 been martyred to a fashion invented for the pleas-
 
 9o Dainty Devils. 
 
 ure of dinner-givers who wanted to show they 
 were so rich that money was no object. I intend 
 to tell Mrs. Blackwell that I do not want any 
 more dead roses served at my table. 
 
 The dishes in which these dead flowers were 
 laid out for their obsequies, were of Venetian 
 crystal and gold, and alarmingly extravagant 
 both as to intrinsic value and probable destruc- 
 tibility, which under modern conditions means 
 frequent replenishment. The dishes ridiculously 
 directed my thoughts again to the Norwegian 
 hamlet. We had supped at the house of the same 
 peasant who had served us our dinner. Some 
 friends of Jack's having overtaken us, eight sat 
 down at the nicely-scrubbed wooden table. The 
 repast consisted of black bread whole loaves, 
 to be cut held tightly against the chest of him 
 who wanted a slice and sour milk in blue-and- 
 white china bowls. Blue-and-white china bowls ! 
 A provokingly illusive notion possessed me that 
 I had previously encountered those identical blue- 
 and-white china bowls under other circumstances. 
 
 " Wait a minute ! " I cried, dashing abruptly 
 from the table and up the narrow stairs to the 
 row of small bed-rooms where travelers were 
 accommodated. From one to the other I ran, find- 
 ing the same object missing from each. Jack 
 overtook me at the end of the row.
 
 November. 91 
 
 " Dot, darling," he gasped, " have you lost 
 your wits ? " 
 
 " No, Jack, only my wash-basin ! Sh ! Don't 
 tell them, they're so hungry! Only please let 
 you and me eat nothing but bread." 
 
 Burton accidentally clicking the bottle against 
 my glass as he poured the champagne, brought 
 me back to my elaborate dinner. I began to 
 wonder whether I had sustained any considerable 
 part of the conversation. The clicking of the 
 glass seemed like a knell for the wasted oppor- 
 tunity of listening more attentively to the en- 
 lightened conversation about me. 
 
 There were a great many kinds of wine served, 
 the women drinking most of the champagne. 
 Belle St. John finished a bottle, if not more. I 
 expected her to fall under the table, like one 
 sees German students in pictures, but she acted 
 no more, nor less, irrationally than she always 
 does. How did she get used to it? I had half 
 a glass of Burgundy, and a very little champagne. 
 And I felt that my cheeks were unrefinedly red, 
 and had an uncomfortable idea that I should 
 not care to have father or Uncle Dalton see me. 
 
 I was sorry that Jack, who did the placing, put 
 Mr. Allison so far from my seat at the table. He 
 sat next the stout dowager, who talked of nothing 
 except things to eat. Mr. Allison was rather 
 plainer in evening than in ordinary dress. I still
 
 92 Dainty Devils. 
 
 liked him best, after Jack, although two or three 
 of the other men were also nice. Lou Allison 
 was looking wonderfully handsome, but she paid 
 small attention to the man next to her. Her 
 eyes were all for a young, good-looking chap, 
 graduated from Harvard last year, who seemed 
 quite as much interested in Lou as she was in 
 him. He talked very well, if rather monoto- 
 nously, of athletics and Boston-bull-terriers, upon 
 which subjects Lou appeared to be very well 
 posted ; in fact, she and this Percy Earle kept 
 up an uninterrupted conversation from the first 
 course to the last. Lou seems to fancy young 
 chaps, this boy looking even younger than Mr. 
 Allison, who is barely twenty-six. Now Lou 
 and Mr. Earle would never have taken my at- 
 tention so extensively had I not discovered that 
 the young girl with the lovely face and distraite 
 manner, was greatly absorbed in watching and 
 listening to the pair. I have forgotten to mention 
 that the girl's name is Marion La Grange. 
 
 Jack had told me I must rise from the table 
 before the coffee and take the ladies into the 
 drawing-room. I felt quite like a lion-tamer in 
 the circus as I went through the ceremony ; it 
 seemed so funny for me to control the actions 
 of these gorgeous society dames. Passing Jack, 
 he took my hand and said, in the dear German 
 fashion, " Gesegnete Mahlzeit ! "
 
 November. 93 
 
 "What's that you are saying?" asked Belle 
 St. John, inquisitively. 
 
 " The German custom after a meal," answered 
 Jack, " and one I happen to find very pretty. 
 It's a mixture of piety and courtesy and means 
 literally, ' God bless the meal.' " 
 
 " I think it's lovely," said Marion La Grange, 
 as we entered the drawing-room. " You know 
 I was educated in Germany, Mrs. Woodward; 
 I am at home only two years." 
 
 Again we smiled into each other's souls. What 
 had Lou Allison whispered to Mr. Earle as she 
 passed him? I would wager my head it was not 
 " Gesegnete Mahlzeit ! " 
 
 Lou refused coffee ; she, and all the others 
 except Marion LaGrange, took the liqueur. 
 Beastly sweet stuff to spoil digestion Jack never 
 touches it. 
 
 Removed from the stimulating presence of 
 the men, my companions in the drawing-room 
 appeared quite dull and sleepy after dinner, ap- 
 parently not finding each other worth the effort 
 of struggling against the lethargy induced by 
 over-eating and drinking. Lou's voice breaking 
 abruptly into a half-drowsy silence, quite startled 
 the little group. 
 
 " Won't you play for us, Dot ? " she asked. 
 
 I hesitated. Something told me that a hostess 
 did not as a rule play to her dinner-guests.
 
 94 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " If you would," said Marion LaGrange, eag- 
 erly, " we should like it so much." 
 
 The girl's eyes had lighted up, and for her 
 sake, I went into the music-room. I felt as if 
 I had always known Marion LaGrange. 
 
 " Do you prefer piano or violin, Miss La- 
 Grange? If you say violin you must accompany 
 me." 
 
 " I should love to," she said, simply. She came 
 and looked at some of the music and I noticed 
 her exquisite white hands; they were like ivory 
 made warm and mobile. 
 
 " Oh, will you play this ? " she asked, suddenly. 
 
 It was Raff's Cavatina. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 If I played it as well as they said afterward, 
 the girl's accompaniment had been the inspira- 
 tion. I think there were tears in her eyes as she 
 left the piano. If that girl is not in love, I 
 never was. And I am sure it is with that ath- 
 letic, Boston-bull-terrier Percy Earle! Pearls 
 before swine! 
 
 My little thorn, probably the kind father had 
 in mind when he warned me, was not want- 
 ing. 
 
 " Ah, really, very excellently played," said the 
 dowager ; " you, ah, gave lessons before marriage, 
 did you not ? " 
 
 " No," I answered, very evenly, " I only took
 
 November. 95 
 
 lessons, and father would find me still badly in 
 need of instruction." 
 
 " Oh, ah, you are much too modest, I'm sure," 
 she murmured, a bit confusedly. 
 
 " I hear your niece is getting lots of orders 
 for her painted dinner-cards," said Lou Allison, 
 in that sweet voice that stabs. 
 
 The dowager put up her lorgnette. 
 
 " My niece ? I was not aware that she was 
 looking for orders. I fancy you are mistaken." 
 Annihilation for Lou was in the tone. 
 
 " Not at all," Lou returned, indolently waving 
 her point lace fan. " She did those for Mrs. 
 Woodward's dinner to-night." 
 
 " And how dainty and clever they were ! " ex- 
 claimed Marion LaGrange. 
 
 There's a character worth having! 
 
 I told Jack when every one had gone, that I 
 was once more in love. The dear old fellow 
 looked a wee bit alarmed. 
 
 " Feminine gender, Jack," I added, consolingly 
 patting his cheek ; " it's Marion La Grange." 
 
 " She is very beautiful," he said, sincerely, 
 " but not my type." 
 
 " Not only that, Jack. She's lovely besides." 
 
 " Yes, I think so. And a first-rate companion 
 for you. Only you must not follow her enthu- 
 siastic footsteps in the direction of Guilds, Settle- 
 
 IL 
 
 ments and Improvement Clubs. Marion is some-
 
 96 Dainty Devils. 
 
 thing of an extremist, Dot, and altogether too un- 
 commonly good for this world. She must have 
 a wonderful constitution, for she keeps up with 
 the giddy people at the same time. Her mother's 
 a jewel. When I was a little boy I intended to 
 marry her as soon as I was old enough." 
 
 " Because," I said, rather nonsensically an- 
 noyed, " you believed she wasn't too good for this 
 world? Did you marry me because I was so 
 wicked ? " 
 
 " You little goose ! Don't you know you're an 
 angel? Only you are a healthy, comfortable 
 sort of a one. And Marion well, let me remind 
 you of what I said at the beginning, despite her 
 beauty and excellence, she is not my type. She 
 is too full of ideals, and she will never conde- 
 scend to love a mortal man." 
 
 " It was her mother you said you used to 
 think of marrying." 
 
 " Yes, Dot, until I was thirteen, when the late 
 Mr. LaGrange made her his wife. Still jeal- 
 ous?" 
 
 " I never was jealous," I exclaimed, with a 
 vehemence born of guilt, " and as for Miss La- 
 Grange " 
 
 "Well, Dot?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing." 
 
 I was mentally coupling " Ideals " with the
 
 November. 97 
 
 chap who talked Boston-bull-terriers to Lou Alli- 
 son. 
 
 I possess cases and trunks full of magnifi- 
 cent silver things that Burton appreciated enough 
 to use in lavish profusion at the dinner last night. 
 For my part I wish he had left them in their 
 cases, for they came to the table in the hue of 
 lead. Mrs. Blackwell may appear very elegant, 
 very spick-and-span and all that, but I do not 
 consider her at all above reproach in the manner 
 in which she keeps this house. I have often 
 longed to speak to her about dust in the corners 
 of the stairs and in the draperies, and I confess 
 that the woman's manner invariably overawed me 
 at the last moment. I have mentally retreated 
 from my belligerent position, indignant at my 
 own timidity, while basely yielding to its de- 
 mands. 
 
 However, the dinner settled me. What is the 
 earthly use of having silver if it is not kept 
 clean? I never could understand why Blackwell 
 keeps ten servants to do the work of this house. 
 So far as I can see, half of them do noth- 
 ing but stand idly about while the house is 
 dirty enough to cause social ostracism in Gray- 
 town. I deliberated well how I would go about 
 the silver business. Again I am humiliated by 
 
 7
 
 98 Dainty Devils. 
 
 being forced to admit that once more my heart 
 quailed before the image of Blackwell. I weakly 
 determined to speak to Burton, the butler, and I 
 decided to make my complaint while I was alone 
 at luncheon. 
 
 " Burton," I began, as soon as I had eaten 
 a few mouthfuls. 
 
 The man turned and faced me, wooden as the 
 wall. 
 
 I coughed. He waited in his aggravating im- 
 movability. 
 
 " Burton." The words collapsed before this 
 appalling figure of competent butlerhood. " Some 
 bread," I said, mildly. 
 
 The bread was presented to me. Let me re- 
 mark, in passing, that Burton only presents 
 things. The man Crosson takes up the soiled 
 plates, and a maid hands the things from the 
 pantry. I wondered whether Crosson had the 
 cleaning of the silver upon his shoulders. Should 
 I speak to him? He was much younger and 
 meeker, and less imposing than Burton. 
 
 " Crosson," I began. Then Burton, who had 
 left the room for an instant, reappeared. " Oh, 
 never mind, I was about to send you for Bur- 
 ton." 
 
 Burton came to my elbow. I had finished my 
 luncheon and wanted nothing. The man stood 
 expecting an order.
 
 November. 99 
 
 " Take up the plates ! " I said, sharply. 
 
 Burton stepped back, stiffer, more wooden, 
 more hateful than ever. He did not utter a 
 word to Crosson. He merely made a slight ges- 
 ture with the air of an emperor a most fitting 
 stage-emperor and retired in dignified disgust 
 behind my chair. I had made a break, which 
 Burton would rehearse to the housekeeper. 
 Upon the dessert plate which Crosson put before 
 me lay a dull spoon and a dingy fork, silent wit- 
 nesses that so far I had made no advance in the 
 intended reform. 
 
 I ate in a sort of rage. 
 
 The coffee having been served, I gave Burton 
 the nod which meant that he and Crosson might 
 retire. 
 
 I sat sipping my coffee and thinking rather less 
 happily than usual. From the silver my thoughts 
 had strayed to my guests of the previous night: 
 Lou, Percy Earle, Marion LaGrange. Lou's 
 animated frivolity and subtly fascinating face; 
 Percy Earle's absorbing interest in every word 
 she breathed ; Mr. Allison's stoical calm and stud- 
 ied propriety, and Marion's beautiful eyes and 
 sweet young mouth under the shadow of some 
 silent trouble. What a charm the girl possessed, 
 and how clever she was ! But Lou was also 
 clever. Yes, clever enough to understand every 
 bit of the harm she was doing. And what ailed
 
 ioo Dainty- Devils. 
 
 Allison? Was he made of wood or lead? Lead 
 brought my mind back to the remissness of my 
 servants in caring for the silver. Looking men- 
 acingly towards the pantry, between the panels 
 of the screen I caught sight of Maria, the parlor- 
 maid. She washed the dishes probably she pol- 
 ished, or did not polish, the silver. 
 
 " Maria," I said, in my ordinary tone. 
 
 The girl fairly jumped. True, I had never 
 before spoken to her, yet I had not fancied my 
 voice could be so alarming. 
 
 " Yes, Madam," she said, appearing upon my 
 side of the screen. 
 
 " I think you have charge of the silver, and 
 I wish to say that it is very dirty, and must be 
 properly cleaned to-day." 
 
 Maria opened her mouth and gasped, saying 
 not a word. 
 
 I rose and left the room. 
 
 About four o'clock, as I was ready to go out, 
 the housekeeper knocked upon the boudoir door. 
 I thought it was Crosson to say that the carriage 
 was waiting, and I did not turn. 
 
 " Yes, Crosson," I said. 
 
 " It is I, Madam," answered Mrs. Blackwell's 
 voice. 
 
 At that I turned in amazement. Except for 
 the official visit to me every morning at ten, I 
 never saw Blackwell.
 
 November. 101 
 
 " Is anything the matter ? " I asked. 
 
 The question was superfluous ; her visage in- 
 dicated as much trouble as anyone would care to 
 encounter upon a single occasion. 
 
 " I never before found it necessary to come 
 to a lady upon such a subject," she began, in 
 her even, metallic tones, " and I'm sorry that so 
 much unpleasantness has occurred. Maria feels 
 so bad, and has cried all the afternoon ; she can't 
 get over it to be spoken to so sharply by a lady, 
 which never in her life happened to her before. 
 Allow me to say, Madam, that ladies leave the 
 correction of their servants to their housekeep- 
 ers." 
 
 " Have you quite finished ? " I asked, my knees 
 shaking and my hands growing cold. 
 
 " Only to say, Madam, that I can not pos- 
 sibly manage the servants, if you make it a prac- 
 tice to interfere." 
 
 Blackwell is very tall, and I felt, in spite of 
 intense anger at her insolence, wofully small 
 and helpless before her. With a supreme effort 
 I gathered myself together, determined to crush 
 her. 
 
 " You and Maria, both, may leave this after- 
 noon. I have yet to engage anyone to give direc- 
 tions to me. You have made a mistake." 
 
 Instantly the woman changed. Her cold, se- 
 vere face coarsened with common impudence.
 
 102 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " I'll see Mr. Woodward first," she said, sneer- 
 ingly ; " he knows better than to discharge a good 
 housekeeper." 
 
 " You will pack and be ready to leave the 
 house at six you and Maria I will pay you 
 if Mr. Woodward has not returned before then." 
 
 Blackwell did not budge. 
 
 " Leave my room, if you please." 
 
 She went, muttering. Very dignified and com- 
 manding, I rang for Crosson to send the car- 
 riage away. Crosson gone, I took off my hat 
 and jacket, and throwing myself upon the couch, 
 burst into tears. Pride had enabled me to keep 
 up appearances until I was alone, then this first 
 housekeeping cloud settled upon me with incred- 
 ible weight and darkness, and, like a hurt child, 
 I longed desperately for Jack's return, to be com- 
 miserated in my trouble, and petted into forget- 
 fulness of my deeply- wounded dignity. How dif- 
 ferent were Lame Ann's affectionate familiarity 
 and innocent defiance, from the calculated dis- 
 respect of a " trained " New York servant ! I 
 sobbed violently, in a vortex of temper, pride 
 and homesickness. It was all too much for me, 
 the people, the habits, the formality, and the very 
 servants in my house. At last I calmed down 
 into a day-dream of leaving all this worry of 
 things, and going with Jack to Graytown, to live 
 in the house about which he had had the law-
 
 November. 103 
 
 suit. It was a jolly law-suit, because it had 
 brought Jack to Graytown and to me. Besides, 
 Jack had won. 
 
 I sprang up as I heard Jack's voice in the 
 hall, and flew to him. 
 
 " Oh, Jack dear, I'm so glad you've come ! " 
 
 " Glad ! And with wet eyes ? What is the 
 trouble, darling? " 
 
 " No trouble I shall not admit it is trouble. 
 I have only discharged Blackwell and one of the 
 maids." 
 
 Jack whistled. He went into the boudoir with 
 me without speaking, and we sat down side-by- 
 side upon the divan. 
 
 " Tell me all about it, Dot. Has she gone ? 
 Blackwell, I mean ? " 
 
 " Not yet ; I gave them till six." 
 
 Growing constantly more dramatic and 
 warmed up to my subject, I vividly rehearsed 
 the Blackwell scene for Jack. He turned grati- 
 fyingly red when I repeated Blackwell's imper- 
 tinent utterances, and said, " The wretch ! " under 
 his breath. 
 
 " Yes," I concluded, " she is indeed a wretch. 
 I should never have believed, Jack, that any one 
 could dare speak so." 
 
 " Of course, dear, she must go, unless she 
 humbly apologizes, which I am sure she will do 
 before six o'clock. She is an exceptionally clever
 
 104 Dainty Devils. 
 
 woman, and it would be unfortunate for my little 
 wife if she had to look for another." Jack spoke 
 slowly and judicially. 
 
 " You won't let her stay ? " I exclaimed, both 
 hurt and astonished. 
 
 " Not unless you consent to accept her apology. 
 The trouble is, Dot, you don't know the condi- 
 tions here. I heard a young chap this very day 
 fairly wailing over his domestic troubles. He 
 said his wife was ill in bed, and their two serv- 
 ants had run away before breakfast. The poor 
 boy blamed the very rich, who can hire serv- 
 ants by the dozen and pay double the money 
 which the thousands of others can afford. I 
 hear tales every day, Dot, of people who can not 
 keep servants for more than a week at a time, 
 and who put up with anything if they can only 
 get some one to come to them." 
 
 " I don't see what all this has to do with Black- 
 well ! " I said, rising and going away from Jack. 
 
 " Simply this, dear. Good servants are pain- 
 fully rare at the present time, and changing is 
 a dangerous experiment. Most of them are lazy, 
 impertinent and unreasonable." 
 
 " It can only be the fault of those who employ 
 them," I said, emphatically. " Father often told 
 me that as a rule people obtain the treatment 
 they merit." 
 
 " True, Dot. The present conditions are the
 
 November. 105 
 
 result of the indolence and indifference of the 
 women who will not bother about their houses. 
 Now, listen, dear : I admit that Blackwell is often 
 neglectful, and I admire you for noticing when 
 the silver is dingy ; however, you made a tech- 
 nical mistake. When things weren't up to the 
 standard, it was my mother's rule to speak to the 
 housekeeper, unless the fault was to be found 
 about the service of the meals, when she called 
 Burton to account. Be as particular and exact- 
 ing as you can, Dot; only when fault is to be 
 found, either Blackwell or Burton must be the 
 recipient of your wrath." 
 
 I tapped my foot upon the wood floor. 
 
 " Why are you angry with me, Dot ?" 
 
 " You admit tacitly that you are afraid of your 
 servants." 
 
 It is well that Jack is not quick tempered, for 
 I know I was exasperating as well as exasper- 
 ated. 
 
 " I'm afraid of little Dot suddenly taking upon 
 her untrained shoulders the responsibility of this 
 household. Believe me, darling, you have no 
 idea of the care and detail. Before my mother 
 had Blackwell, she had a string of incompetent 
 women as housekeepers. Chaos reigned and 
 waste was everywhere. I am positive that Black- 
 well will come with an apology. No doubt your 
 display of spunkiness did her good. Can you
 
 io6 Dainty Devils. 
 
 not make up your mind to accept her contrition, 
 and content yourself with being mercilessly 
 strict in the future ?" 
 
 I was neither pleased nor convinced. 
 
 " Jack, the independence ought to be on the 
 side of those who do the employing and there- 
 fore hold the power." 
 
 "It ought? Well, my tiny philosopher, it's 
 not now, and never will be till those who do the 
 employing unite in exacting honest work for 
 the wages paid." 
 
 " A Labor Union !" I cried, brightening. 
 " No, not a Labor Union, rather an ' Employers ' 
 Union. Wouldn't it change things, Jack, if the 
 wealthy women ' struck ' ? Think of the hun- 
 dreds who would have to come to terms ! I will 
 join at once." 
 
 Jack laughed. 
 
 " Your idea isn't half bad, and it is certainly 
 practicable. It is the old truth, Dot, ' In union 
 there is strength.' In the meantime " 
 
 A delicate knock interrupted us. 
 
 " Blackwell !" murmured Jack. " I shall with- 
 draw." 
 
 I settled myself in state in a large chair, know- 
 ing that I always appear a good deal taller sit- 
 ting down. My self-complacency suffered a jar 
 as I caught sight of my red eyes in a mirror. 
 Blackwell would have the satisfaction of know-
 
 November. 107 
 
 ing that I had wept, in addition to the fact that 
 she had spoilt my drive. Once more my blood 
 began to boil. 
 
 " Come in," I said, in a severe tone. 
 
 To my surprise, the woman had been crying. 
 She held a damp, limp handkerchief between her 
 clasped hands, and her inflamed eyes and nose 
 put mine completely into the shade. 
 
 "Well?" I asked, shortly. 
 
 " I'm sorry, Madam, that I forgot myself, and 
 I hope you'll reconsider my leaving. I'd not have 
 spoken so, only the servants have been so trying 
 of late, and I was all tuckered out by Maria's 
 goings-on this afternoon. You can't know, 
 Madam, what a life it is with their carelessness 
 and tantrums and jealousies of one another." 
 
 Blackwell sniffled. My heart softened, and my 
 figure relaxed a trifle from its indignant rigidity. 
 
 " You can stay if you want to," I said, quite 
 mildly. " As for Maria, pay her and let her 
 
 go." 
 
 " She's leaving, Madam, saying she wouldn't 
 stay anywhere that she was found fault with in 
 the dining-room. I'd like to stay, Madam, thank 
 you." 
 
 An inspiration came to me. I might never 
 again have Blackwell in this meekly-obedient 
 attitude. 
 
 " Very well. But probably you ought to make
 
 io8 Dainty Devils. 
 
 more changes than merely Maria. I am not at 
 all satisfied with the neatness of the house." 
 
 The woman looked up, almost alarmed. 
 
 " I'll do my best," she said, " and I am glad 
 to know I've a Madam who notices things, and 
 appreciates when they're clean." 
 
 " You may be quite sure of that." 
 
 My erstwhile ogress bowed and retired. 
 
 Jack rushed in before Blackwell had well gone. 
 I hope she did not hear him kiss me. 
 
 " Good little Dot ! You've won the day. Black- 
 well will hereafter toe the mark. Wait and see !" 
 
 I am waiting. Recalling the haughtiness of 
 Maria O'Flaherty I marvel where these Irish 
 girls get it. All the von Waldecks rolled into 
 one, could not approach Maria, as I addressed her 
 after luncheon. Finally I put the question to 
 Jack. 
 
 " What is it that makes an Irish peasant so im- 
 periously self-assured ?" 
 
 " Conceit, darling ; it is always an exact equa- 
 tion of existent ignorance. It was Maria's 
 stupidity that prevented her from appreciating 
 the situation to-day. A clever person, princess 
 or slave, is never disrespectful. Insolence is the 
 usual accompaniment of brutal stupidity." 
 
 " For which," I added, gravely, " there is no 
 cure this side of the grave. Thank you, Herr 
 Professor."
 
 DECEMBER. 
 
 JACK says he believes I am flying headlong into 
 one of those insanely intense f rienships of which 
 women are occasionally guilty, and which com- 
 monly end in disaster. He has cautioned me 
 against having my photograph taken with Marion 
 LaGrange's head against mine, for he asserts 
 that in every instance under his observation, that 
 act has been the beginning of the end. I admit 
 that I had contemplated one of those pictures, 
 because it would certainly be effective for Marion 
 to have blonde me against her fine dark hair 
 and eyes. Jack's words, my protestations to 
 the contrary, have unduly influenced me, and I 
 have gone no farther than trying the effect in 
 the mirror. It was truly very pretty. 
 
 I know I am very earthy, and had I never 
 before realized my limitations, Marion would have 
 brought them home to me. She has made a 
 rule for herself that one half of her time shall 
 belong to what she calls " Works of Charity", 
 which works include all kinds of heroic occu- 
 pations. She does not tell me much, save at 
 times when I try to make an engagement with 
 
 109
 
 no Dainty Devils. 
 
 her, when she murmurs : " Those hours are al- 
 ready devoted to something else." I have found 
 out that she visits a woman with a cancer every 
 forenoon except Sundays ; that she has a " Chris- 
 tian Doctrine Class " for adults every Friday 
 night ; that she gives " Talks " at the Settlement 
 three afternoons a week, and I know she teaches 
 twice each Sunday at the Mission. I wouldn't 
 even say positively that she does not do more. 
 Mrs. LaGrange worries a bit, I fancy, although 
 she has never complained, except one afternoon 
 shf hnB nn'fr frunplnined, save one afternoon 
 that I rushed to Marion's to get her to go some- 
 where with me, when Jack at the last minute 
 could not. 
 
 " Marion is out, Mrs. Woodward ; at the Mis- 
 sion again," said the dear, beautiful mother, sigh- 
 ing a trifle. 
 
 I was quite tired out from hurrying, and 
 greatly disappointed. 
 
 " Doesn't Marion attempt too much, Mrs. La- 
 Grange ? " I asked, rather snappishly. Mrs. La- 
 Grange took my hand and patted it. 
 
 " I hope not ; she is very strong." 
 
 That evening I met Marion, and started to 
 expostulate with her. She looked at me in her 
 bright way, and laughed softly. 
 
 " Strange, Dot," she said, " but you make me 
 feel like your mother. Were you awfully cross 
 this afternoon?"
 
 December. in 
 
 I concluded that upon the " Works of Charity " 
 question we might get into trouble, and changed 
 the subject. I love her dearly, and admire her 
 zealous work, if only it did not make her look 
 so preoccupied and set apart ! She never seems 
 thoroughly interested in the scenes about her, 
 except when Percy Earle is present. My first 
 suspicions are being fully confirmed. Let Mr. 
 Earle enter the room, and I firmly believe that 
 Marion forgets every work of charity which was 
 ever performed since the world began. He has 
 known her since she was born, and either does 
 not notice her at all or treats her as might a 
 rather polite brother. I get angry and jealous, 
 while I try in all possible ways to have them see 
 each other often. 
 
 We have an Opera-box every Wednesday 
 night unspeakable treat for one who was 
 brought up with the Glee Club as the acme of 
 musical dissipation ! There was quite a 
 lengthy argument before Jack and I made up 
 the party for the initial Opera. My first clamor 
 was for Marion, and Jack said I could not in 
 decency leave out Lou and Belle the first night. 
 Well, I should have to ask them. As for men, 
 Mr. Allison, of course, and I paused ; I must 
 ask Percy Earle for Marion. As I hesitated, 
 meditating that Lou would be present, Jack him- 
 self suggested Percy. I agreed at once, then
 
 ii2 Dainty Devils. 
 
 remembered that there would be four women 
 and three men. Jack did not see the difference 
 that made. 
 
 " You're going to the Opera, not a dance," he 
 said. " Besides, lots of men will be floating in 
 to call upon you." 
 
 After some argument, Jack proposed the Rob- 
 ertsons. 
 
 " Another man, indeed, Jack, but another 
 woman, too." 
 
 Jack groaned. 
 
 " How you women love each other !" he said, 
 provokingly. 
 
 I maintained an injured silence. 
 
 " Ask a dozen more men, Dot, if you find them 
 so amusing," he continued, seeming to enjoy my 
 displeasure ; " only if I were you, I should first 
 ask the ones we have proposed, and see who 
 declines." 
 
 " It will surely be a man," I said, gloomily ; 
 " perhaps Mr. Allison won't go." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 I did not know why not, and said nothing 
 at least I could not explain lucidly. 
 
 Belle St. John was the one who declined, to 
 my vast satisfaction. We would be a comfort- 
 able six, J reflected, without one lonely extra 
 woman to upset the social symmetry. 
 
 As things came about, we were a most un-
 
 December. 113 
 
 comfortable six. Mr. Allison was impartially 
 nice to Marion and to me; so was Jack. Percy 
 Earle, whom I invited only for Marion's sake, 
 paid no attention to her whatever ; instead he sat 
 at the back of the box, and leaned devotedly 
 on the top of Lou's chair. Both completely 
 ignored the music, and kept up a constant con- 
 versation in under-tones, while Marion listened 
 religiously to the singing of Faust and Margue- 
 rite, and grew steadily more listless and more the 
 exact match of her dead-white gown. I could 
 have been rioutously happy in the entre acte which 
 brought five of Jack's nicest men-friends to pay 
 me their compliments, if Marion's dejected fig- 
 ure, (her elbow on the rail of the box, and her 
 chin abstractedly sunk into her palm,) had not 
 reproached me every time I laughed. Percy 
 Earle stood up to greet the men, all of whom he 
 of course knew. When standing he kept close 
 to Lou. I think Marion makes a bad mistake 
 in moping so steadily. I am sure I should not ; 
 if Jack had liked some other girl in Graytown 
 better than me, I would have pretended not to 
 care a rap for him, and would have laughed and 
 talked with other people, though I strangled in 
 the attempt. 
 
 Not that I mean Percy is aware Marion is 
 unhappy over him not in the least. The simple- 
 ton is deaf and blind so far as Marion is con- 
 8
 
 H4 Dainty Devils. 
 
 earned. As for Lou, while I feel in conscience 
 bound to despise her, alas, I cannot ! She struck 
 me last night as very much like sin, which we 
 ought to hate and do, at our prayers, to greet it 
 lovingly whenever temptation is strong. Lou 
 is so winningly pretty such a terribly attrac- 
 tive, dainty sort of a devil ! 
 
 Mr. Allison amazes me. Surely he sees how 
 Lou is carrying on, and apparently he is indif- 
 ferent. Oh, I hope Jack would be raving jealous 
 if I ever gave him an excuse ! 
 
 The women at the Opera wore the same kind 
 of gowns as did my dinner-guests. I should 
 like to get the opinion of some bright boy of 
 fourteen or fifteen upon them ; it would doubt- 
 less be impartial and original. I know this 
 much : if I were a boy growing up, I should never 
 respect my mother if she went out in such clothes. 
 Fancy if lightning or something struck this 
 Metropolitan Opera House, and all these grin- 
 ning, scheming, shockingly-dressed women sud- 
 denly sat stark and stiff! What ghastly judg- 
 ment to die in those outrageous bodices and 
 shoulder straps ! 
 
 At about the middle of the second act, there 
 was a stir in the box next to ours Mrs. Van 
 Voort's. She had the Robertsons and a couple of 
 English girls as her guests. The English girls 
 were nice, slim, blonde things, speaking in melo-
 
 December. 115 
 
 dious voices, and gowned in extreme simplicity. 
 Mrs. Robertson looked stouter and uglier and 
 redder than usual, in a sky-blue panne velvet cos- 
 tume. She stood out in unpleasant prominence by 
 reason of the young girls who sat on each side of 
 her. Her husband, a quiet, stern man of fifty, 
 very Scotch and very proper, was almost invisible 
 from his chair back of her. The Van Voorts 
 are a young, giddy pair, quite devoid of intellect, 
 contemptuously rich, and bound up body and 
 soul in " having a good time." Belle St. John 
 is the almost constant companion of Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson, while Mrs. Van Voort frequently fills 
 out the triangle. All the party left before the 
 last act, probably not finding much of a good 
 time in seeing Marguerite die. Lou Allison and 
 Percy Earle had spent one entre acte with the 
 Van Voorts. There had been lots of laughter, 
 and rather loud talking until the lights went down 
 again ; and Mr. Robertson, who sat prim and stiff 
 while the rest were in the little ante-room, very 
 audibly commanded his wife to come back to 
 her place and listen to the music. 
 
 Lou returned looking rather flushed, and slip- 
 ped quickly into her seat. A moment later, she 
 leaned back and resumed her mumbling with 
 Percy. I think Mr. Allison fidgeted a little. 
 Jack was frowning, and once I saw portending 
 temper in his face. Jack loves music, and that
 
 n6 Dainty Devils. 
 
 disturbing whisper was too irritating even for 
 his colossal patience. I vowed to myself that 
 never again would I invite Lou to my box ; this 
 first vow was followed by a second : In the 
 morning I would see Lou Allison, and tell her 
 plainly how wicked and cruel she was. 
 
 Mr. Allison put on Marion's wrap, and I heard 
 him exclaim at her pallor. She laughed and said 
 she was ridiculously well. Meanwhile tears were 
 in her eyes. 
 
 Mr. Allison's manner as he spoke to her, was 
 a surprise to me. All along I have been quite 
 under the impression that he, so matter-of-fact 
 and even, must upon general principles disap- 
 prove of idealistic, unworldly Marion. Stand- 
 ing there fastening her cloak, he might have 
 been a very venerable father, gravely solicitous 
 for a young child's health. He is only six years 
 older than Marion, and I marveled that he could 
 seem so far removed from men of his own age, 
 who would approach the girl as admirers or 
 lovers. " How unfortunate that such a man has 
 no children ! " I found myself thinking ; and I 
 laughed irrelevantly, at the immediately answer- 
 ing thought, " What would Lou do with a 
 child?" -The hideousness of calling a widow's 
 children " encumbrances " would be nothing 
 against the actual fact of what fearfully great 
 encumbrances Lou's possible children would be.
 
 December. 117 
 
 Unfortunate little beggars ! They would most 
 probably not have even a Lame Ann. 
 
 Jack catching sight of poor Marion's dewy 
 eyes as Mr. Allison considerately turned away, 
 slightly frowned. 
 
 " What a pity," murmured he to me, " that 
 Marion lets the unreality of an Opera affect her 
 so much, and is hopelessly cold to the actual hu- 
 manity about her ! " 
 
 Oh, Jack ! And still I know he is awfully 
 clever. 
 
 We had the bus take us to Sherry's after the 
 Opera for supper, and were joined there by 
 the Layton party of eight, consisting of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Layton, three debutantes, and three beard- 
 less boys. The full grown young women of 
 eighteen or nineteen seemed immensely enter- 
 tained by their youthful cavaliers, who, being 
 all between seventeen and eighteen, were about 
 on a par with girls of twelve or thirteen. If 
 giggling be a safe indication, the six young peo- 
 ple were perfectly satisfied. About every sen- 
 tence the boys uttered contained a " Yale man " 
 or a " Harvard man ", or a " Princeton man ", 
 so I was forced to conclude that the very word 
 " man " was delicious to the children's tongues. 
 
 A ludicrous picture flitted through Sherry's, 
 a kind of a mirage, of Lame Ann thrashing a
 
 n8 Dainty Devils. 
 
 boy, fully as old and a great deal bigger than any 
 of these, because he had drowned my pet kitten. 
 
 I suppose starting out with the attentions of 
 lads, leads to marriages like Lou's. Fancy! 
 When Lou came out into society, Arnold Allison 
 was a child of fourteen. And now he is her hus- 
 band. It is nauseating! I am so glad I mar- 
 ried a big, strong man, lots older and cleverer 
 and wiser than I. How can a woman expect to 
 be shielded and petted and waited upon, when 
 she is the much better man of the two ? Shakes- 
 peare was right, as ever, when he made the Duke 
 in Twelfth Night tell Viola, " Let still the 
 woman take an elder than herself, . . . .For 
 women are as roses, whose fair flower, being 
 once displayed, doth fall that very hour." 
 
 I am eighteen and Jack is thirty-five. I hardly 
 think I shall fade so fast as to catch up to him. 
 
 I admit that Lou is exceptional. More is the 
 pity! She does not look so very much older 
 than Marion LaGrange; and I am not so dull 
 but that I can understand that for the woman of 
 thirty to look like the inexperienced girl of 
 twenty, makes the situation a perilous one. 
 Would Percy Earle be infatuated with a faded, 
 wrinkled-up woman? I am positive he would 
 pass her by. 
 
 The Layton party infused some needed vi- 
 vacity into ours. I do not mean that we found
 
 December. 119 
 
 either the giggling or the conversation about 
 " man " inspiring ; only that some kind of pride 
 seemed roused in Marion after the addition of 
 these people to our party, and she talked ani- 
 matedly for the rest of the evening. Percy Earle, 
 whether brought to himself by Mrs. Layton's 
 sharp, cold eyes she is his sister or afraid of 
 a later outburst from her sharp, cold tongue, 
 left Lou's side and sat dutifully next me. 
 Truth compels me to state that Lou sulked visi- 
 bly after Percy left her. Oh, how I would talk 
 to her in the morning ! 
 
 We took Marion home with us, I having ar- 
 ranged with Mrs. LaGrange to keep her a day 
 or two, except of course, when she would be out 
 upon her " Works of Charity." 
 
 In the morning, soon after breakfast, my 
 manner no doubt somewhat shadowed by painful 
 self-consciousness, I told Marion I was going to 
 walk. She might practice while I was away, I 
 added, feeling bound to provide occupation for 
 a guest. Marion serenely checkmated me by re- 
 marking that she had something to do, and I 
 remembered the cancer woman and how super- 
 fluous would be any effort to keep Marion em- 
 ployed. We parted affectionately, and I hastened, 
 still tingling with indignation, to Allisons', bent 
 upon telling Lou what I thought of her.
 
 I2O Dainty Devils. 
 
 Unfortunately she was out. Would I see Mrs. 
 St. John? 
 
 Considering that Lou might return directly, 
 I went up to Belle's room, that lady having sent 
 word that she could not receive me anywhere 
 else. I found her in bed, her hair tousled, her 
 eyes dull and sleepy under swollen lids, her 
 prettiness all wanting. 
 
 " Morning !" she drawled, from the pillows. 
 "I'm not up yet, as you see. Annie," (to the 
 servant who was hastily straightening up the 
 room), "let things alone and get my breakfast." 
 
 " Where is Lou ?" I asked, abruptly. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know. Do you contemplate 
 murdering her, or what ? You look so fierce ! I 
 haven't seen Lou since before dinner last night, 
 so as Mrs. Robertson told me you had her in 
 your box, you must have more recent news than 
 I. I've heard all about your levee ; Mrs. Robert- 
 son said you looked glorious, and were fully capa- 
 ble of flirting with half a dozen men at a time. 
 Jack will have more than he bargained for in 
 you, I'm thinking." 
 
 Belle could no longer make me angry, as she 
 did six or seven weeks ago; I calmly ignored 
 her remarks. 
 
 " Did you see Mrs. Robertson so late last 
 night ? She left the Opera before the last act." 
 
 " I saw her about three o'clock this morning,
 
 December. 121 
 
 Dot. Oh, it was a tight little game, and I kept 
 on playing, hoping to win. I wonder what time 
 I tumbled into bed?" Belle closed her eyes for 
 a moment as though earnestly endeavoring to 
 calculate at what hour her previous day had 
 ended. 
 
 " Don't you know ?" I asked, astonished in 
 spite of myself. 
 
 " Haven't the slightest idea. I sat consider- 
 ing ways and means of paying my debts, until 
 I heard the milkman." 
 
 " Why did the recollection of your debts sud- 
 denly overwhelm you in the middle of the night, 
 Belle?" 
 
 Belle yawned. 
 
 " Well, you see I wasn't so badly off the first 
 hour. The game went well enough at first. See 
 here, Dot, lend me some money, won't you?" 
 There was an unwonted briskness in the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " What game are you talking about ? Lou 
 said you were engaged for a card-party, but 
 you don't mean to say " I broke off miserably. 
 
 " Only poker, that's all. I prefer it to bridge. 
 Ever play? Jolly sport. It's the only thing 
 which keeps me from suicide Yes, Annie, right 
 here." 
 
 The maid had returned with a tray. She had 
 coffee, bread and butter and a decanter with
 
 122 Dainty Devils. 
 
 glasses. Belle picked up the decanter, and fill- 
 ing a glass, held it silently out to me. 
 
 " No, thank you," I stammered, a confused 
 medley of Belle, whiskey, poker and debts buzz- 
 ing in my brain. 
 
 Wasting no words, Belle put the glass to her 
 lips and drained it, following the undiluted stuff 
 with a little ice-water. 
 
 " What makes you look so queer, Dot ? It's 
 nothing but innocent, good whiskey an appe- 
 tizer." 
 
 1 once heard Uncle Dalton say that the shoe- 
 maker in Graytown was " hopelessly gone", 
 because he drank " raw whiskey before break- 
 fast." 
 
 " You don't do it every day, do you ?" I 
 asked, in down-right alarm. 
 
 " I couldn't eat if I didn't, and you wouldn't 
 expect me to exist upon air, would you? Your 
 expression makes me weak, Dot; I need another 
 bracer, if I never did before." 
 
 Again the glass was filled and emptied. 
 
 " I suppose you will tell Jack all about it," 
 said Belle, beginning to eat, " but you'd better 
 not, because you don't know how soon you'll have 
 to begin yourself. How do you suppose women 
 stand the strain of a winter in New York? 
 Why, we just couldn't if we didn't help our- 
 selves along with a bit of whiskey or sherry, or
 
 December. 123 
 
 creme de menthe at the proper moment. I went 
 to a luncheon and five teas yesterday. Then a 
 dinner, and lastly our poker game. That re- 
 minds me, Dot, can you lend me two hundred? 
 I owe it to Mrs. Robertson, and she needs the 
 money to pay for a new tea-gown. The dress- 
 maker is dunning her every day, and Robertson 
 is as mean as Moses or the Scotch, which, 
 amounts to the same thing." 
 
 " I never knew women gambled," I said in- 
 dignantly, " especially women who think they are 
 ladies." 
 
 " Whew ! There aren't any ladies now-a-days, 
 except wash-ladies and scrub-ladies. And, judg- 
 ing from you, angry ladies." 
 
 " I'm not angry. But I will not give you 
 money for gambling." 
 
 Belle put back the dishes, shook the pretty 
 lace ruffles down over her hands and leaned back 
 against the pillows. 
 
 " I have heard," she said, musically, " that 
 the Germans are as stingy as the Scotch." 
 
 " They are certainly stingy of their good 
 names," I returned, with considerable anger, "and 
 respectable women do not get themselves into 
 debt, least of all gambling debt." 
 
 " Dear me, what a temper you have ! Dot, 
 try to work up a crumb of compassion in your 
 tiny personality, won't you ? I need two hundred
 
 124 Dainty Devils. 
 
 dollars awfully, and I know you can spare it if 
 you want to." 
 
 I do not know how rudely I might have 
 answered had the maid not again appeared, look- 
 ing disrespectfully cognizant of the situation. 
 
 " Mrs. Robertson is coming up," she an- 
 nounced, exultingly. " I tried to keep her down, 
 but she said she had to see you, and ordered me 
 real sharply to get out of her way." 
 
 " You'll excuse me under the circumstances," 
 I said, coldly. 
 
 " Oh, don't go !" cried Belle, starting from the 
 pillows, her indolent manner changing into one 
 of acute anxiety, " for Heaven's sake don't ! 
 She's come for her money, Dot, and I haven't 
 it." 
 
 " That's not my fault." 
 
 " It is," exclaimed Belle, excitedly. " Say 
 you'll send a messenger boy with a check, won't 
 you? I shall tell her that I will pay her this 
 afternoon." 
 
 Mrs. Robertson was sweeping along the hall; 
 Belle dropped back upon the pillows, and hastily 
 pushed from her the tray, which the maid, who 
 had heard the latter part of the conversation, 
 carelessly picked up. She went out one door as 
 the caller entered the other. The bow and 
 " Good morning," Mrs. Robertson bestowed upon 
 me were so curt that I longed to tell her she
 
 December. 125 
 
 need not be at all put out, as for my part, I 
 could not get away too soon. Distantly enough 
 I returned her salutation, recollecting that this 
 unrefined, over-dressed woman had spoken of me 
 as an " Upstart." I murmured a " Good-bye " in- 
 tended for Belle and her visitor, and was hur- 
 riedly leaving when Belle called, 
 
 " Aren't you going to kiss me ?" 
 
 Turning back in surprise, I stooped over the 
 bed, dimly conscious that Belle had been rude 
 to me, and might wish to atone before I left. 
 
 " You'll send me the check," she breathed into 
 my ear, holding me tightly as I kissed her. 
 
 Disgust overwhelmed me. I stiffened and 
 pulled myself away. How easily I had been 
 flattered ! 
 
 " No," I said, very audibly, " I won't. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 " How red and cross the small person looked ! " 
 I heard Mrs. Robertson say, as I went down the 
 stairs. I had a strong impulse to go back and 
 tell her why. 
 
 Davis let me out. He and the maid, Annie, 
 had been whispering and giggling in the hall. 
 I wondered whether they stayed in the house 
 without wages for the sake of the entertainment 
 their employers furnished them. Vicariously 
 mortified, I made my way home to my beautiful, 
 transcendental Marion who had not yet returned
 
 126 Dainty Devils. 
 
 from her cancer friend. I was unreasonably pro- 
 voked at her, as I dressed for the luncheon at 
 Mrs. Layton's to which we were both going. 
 Marion came in when the brougham was at the 
 door. 
 
 " If I could only go in this !" she said, regret- 
 fully, pinching her serge sleeve. " But I shall 
 be ready in ten minutes. I was so unexpectedly 
 detained," and she laughed as she rushed up- 
 stairs. 
 
 " Most charmingly inconsiderate of you," I 
 called after her, still cross and out of sorts with 
 all the world. 
 
 " Oh, I'll tell you," came from the upper land- 
 ing, " you and you only." 
 
 She laughed once more, and I wished I felt 
 so gay. 
 
 Actually within ten minutes she appeared in 
 regal elegance, not flushed, nor breathless, nor 
 at all ruffled. Between chagrin at not having 
 met Lou, and anger at the outcome of my visit 
 with Belle, I was ugly enough to snap at even 
 Jack himself, but by the time we had turned the 
 corner, Marion's calm good-nature had subdued 
 me. 
 
 " Hurry up with what you have to tell me, 
 dear," I said. " It's not far to LaytonsV 
 
 Marion looked at me mischievously. 
 
 " I had a proposal, Dot on the stairs of a
 
 December. 127 
 
 tenement-house. Oh, I know it's wicked to 
 laugh." 
 
 " It is," I said, severely, " horribly so. Love is 
 an awfully serious matter, Marion LaGrange, 
 and you ought to know it." 
 
 It was cruel to say it, and I hated myself as the 
 girl turned deathly pale. No suspicion of laugh- 
 ter remained as she said, slowly : 
 
 " You are right, Dot. It is wrong even to tell 
 you." 
 
 , I was disappointed, being only a woman, 
 i " That is as you think best," I managed to 
 say. 
 
 " You can advise me what to do, and I'd 
 rather tell you than mother." She hesitated. 
 
 I smiled encouragingly. Marion resumed : 
 
 " It's the curate of St. Clara's. Do you like 
 him, Dot?" 
 
 " No," emphatically, " I detest him. Not a 
 single thing about his profession suits his char- 
 acter except his cassocks. He was meant to go 
 round in skirts like a woman; so they're most 
 appropriate." 
 
 " Oh, now you're wrong, Dot. He's intensely 
 devout and earnest " 
 
 " And a flirt, and he fibs whenever a fib is con- 
 venient," I continued, " and altogether I despise 
 him." 
 
 Marion looked downcast.
 
 128 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " You evidently don't think his asking me to 
 marry him much of a compliment, do you ? Well, 
 he did, on the stairs, where I met him going to 
 call upon the sick woman I was leaving. I 
 was so astonished that I only said ' Oh don't ! ' 
 and bolted for the street, and he ran after me, 
 Dot" 
 
 Here the ludicrous overcame Marion again, 
 and she broke off laughing. 
 
 " It was quite like him, Marion, and I should 
 be wild if you cared for him. He's a perfect 
 ninny." 
 
 " Oh, Dot ! I kept running till we reached the 
 corner and then I noticed that some small boys 
 had joined in the chase, and I felt what a specta- 
 cle I was making of myself, and how foolish I 
 was, and stopped and tried to gasp out an 
 apology." 
 
 " Well, what else, dear ? Here we are." 
 
 " He said if I persisted in saying, ' No,' he 
 would go West, and might give up the ministry." 
 Marion looked awed. 
 
 " Let him do both, and welcome, Marion. But 
 he won't. He is not cut out for heroics. What 
 presumption to expect to marry you !" 
 
 We were going up the steps. Marion sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she said, in a suddenly 
 weary voice, " I'm by no means irresistible."
 
 December. 129 
 
 At that moment I could have shot Percy Earle. 
 
 The luncheon was an over-decorated, over- 
 long, over-dull affair, where I ate more than was 
 comfortable, for the want of something better to 
 do. Mrs. Layton is always fretting about some- 
 thing or other, and entertained her guests by 
 disjointed bursts of the probability of various 
 minor calamities, such as catching cold at the 
 Opera; the children looking red and very likely 
 being in for the measles ; and so on, quite like a 
 genuinely uneducated farmer's wife. Her birth 
 and breeding have done little for her, except to 
 give her a clear-cut face a good deal like Percy's 
 in miniature in which all expression is lacking 
 except chronic peevishness. She has a pitifully 
 attentive husband, who thinks she is the most 
 beautiful part of creation, and humors her to 
 the verge of downright weak-mindedness. If he 
 should dare call his soul his own, she would cow 
 him into immediate apology by reminding him of 
 the care of her " five helpless children " whom 
 she hardly ever sees. These pretty little things 
 are the j oiliest scapegoats, and unconsciously bear 
 all their mother's shortcomings upon their in- 
 nocent golden heads. No subject is too irrele- 
 vant or far-fetched for the " five helpless chil- 
 dren " to have a bearing upon it. I once heard 
 Mr. Layton suggest that another hat might be 
 more becoming to his wife. With a flash and 
 
 9
 
 130 Dainty Devils. 
 
 a quiver Mrs. Layton flayed him by demanding 
 how any woman with five helpless children could 
 take the time to select the proper hats? It was 
 all I could do not to whistle. Belle St. John has 
 frequently explained the whole situation by re- 
 marking, " Oh, it's because Addie Layton has all 
 the money." 
 
 Still, I do not think Jack is the head of the 
 house because he has the money ; he is the mas- 
 ter because he is a man, not a Miss Nancy. 
 
 These thoughts were all very contemptible 
 while I was sitting at the woman's table ; the 
 trouble was that when I reproached myself and 
 tried to think of other matters, I was haunted by 
 Belle St. John and her gambling, or worse yet, 
 Lou Allison and what I meant to tell her about 
 the affair with Percy Earle. 
 
 I left the minute I could decently do so, de- 
 termined to see Lou before dinner, if I had to 
 drive over half of New York. Marion stared 
 a little when I told her I would leave her at the 
 house and would then go somewhere alone. 
 
 " Why did you ask me to stop with you, Dot ?" 
 she asked, only half-jesting. " I seem a good 
 deal in the way." 
 
 " Not at all. You didn't take me to your sick 
 woman this morning, did you? And I wasn't 
 angry. Run along, dear, I'll soon be back." 
 
 This time Lou was at home. My satisfaction 
 became limp when I discovered she was not alone.
 
 December. 131 
 
 A thin, starved-looking individual was talk- 
 ing most industriously to her of the great advan- 
 tages to be gained by subscribing to a new peri- 
 odical. Lou appeared more than bored, and 
 fairly sprang to meet me. 
 
 " Oh, Dot, I'm so glad to see you. I'm going 
 out with this lady," she added, glibly to the can- 
 vasser, " so you'll excuse me." 
 
 The gaunt young woman stood up, her long 
 face growing longer and her golf skirt falling 
 in lines verily suggestive of a " driver," while 
 her eagerly thrust forward neck and head finished 
 the simile most appropriately. 
 
 "But the subscription?" she almost squealed. 
 " Four dollars a year, and the most delightful 
 illustrations." Here she began flirting the leaves 
 of an ungainly-sized magazine. " Perhaps this 
 lady" 
 
 " Oh, yes," I said, sympathetically. She looked 
 so hungry and disappointed ! " I haven't any 
 money with me 
 
 " Only the name and address, Madam. Thank 
 you ever so much," as I handed her my card. 
 " So very kind of you. And if you will recom- 
 mend the publication " 
 
 " We're extremely pressed for time," inter- 
 rupted Lou, " and we'll recommend you to every- 
 body." 
 
 Her fibs were brazen, but before I could remark
 
 132 Dainty Devils. 
 
 upon the matter, Lou burst out angrily, the can- 
 vasser being barely out of hearing. 
 
 " It's another part of Davis' impudence ! He 
 sent that creature upstairs simply to annoy me. 
 I couldn't insult her because the curate of St. 
 Clara's gave her my name." 
 
 " How could Davis know you wouldn't receive 
 her?" 
 
 " I never see any canvassers, and he knows 
 it. I haven't time nor money for them." 
 
 " Can Davis recognize a canvasser ? " I asked, 
 mystified. 
 
 At home in Graytown we had been always 
 delighted to see one, although it was hard that 
 most of the time we could not buy anything. 
 Lame Ann used to say they were lots more im- 
 proving than a daily paper, and going generally 
 round to the back-door where the women were 
 busy, they could tell her exactly what was doing 
 in every house in the village. 
 
 " Certainly," was Lou's impatient answer ; 
 "didn't she have a bag? And her voice, and 
 clothes ! Oh, everyone knows a canvasser." 
 
 " You seem out of sorts, Lou." 
 
 " Oh, I've business on hand serious legal 
 business. I may have to go West again where 
 I was all summer. I believe I am both tired and 
 cross. And I don't feel like a long railroad jour- 
 ney."
 
 December. 133 
 
 The laugh and recklessness being so conspicu- 
 ously absent, I rather wavered in my determina- 
 tion of lecturing her, when she seemed in trouble 
 already. What legal business could Lou have 
 in the West? 
 
 "What is it, Lou?" I asked, anxiously, "is 
 anything wrong?" 
 
 " No, no, nothing at all or everything, if you 
 please ; it depends upon the way one regards the 
 subject. Oh, the deuce! Don't look so glum, 
 Dot." 
 
 Surely I could not look so glum as did Lou 
 herself. 
 
 " I came here to scold you, Lou, and if you're 
 in trouble I don't want to." Thus I made 
 audible the vacillation between duty and sympa- 
 thy. 
 
 Lou opened her eyes and mouth ; then her 
 saucy laugh pealed forth. 
 
 " Scold me? " she cried, and coming closer 
 to me she shook me. " For Heaven's sake, 
 begin. It will be the jolliest sport I've had in 
 weeks." Her great eyes laughed a challenge 
 into mine. 
 
 " I'm in dead earnest, Lou " I began. 
 
 What an unlucky day ! Davis stood at the door. 
 
 " Mr. Earle to see you, Madam." 
 
 Lou started, and I started much more. 
 
 " Show him up," she said, sharply. As soon
 
 134 Dainty Devils. 
 
 as Davis had disappeared, she caught my hand as 
 I moved backwards. 
 
 " You're not going, are you ? " she questioned, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Decidedly, yes ; I didn't come to hold a con- 
 versation a trois." I myself was surprised at the 
 bitterness of my voice. 
 
 " Dot, please stay ; I beg you not to go." 
 
 I stared at her. 
 
 " Let go my hand, Lou ; you hurt me." 
 
 " Dot, stay, " she whispered, insistently. 
 Percy's step was already upon the stairs. 
 
 " No, I won't," doggedly. 
 
 " An unexpected pleasure," said Percy Earle 
 to me, his face not at all confirming the words. 
 
 " I was just leaving, Mr. Earle. Good-bye, 
 Lou." 
 
 She gave me an imploring look as our eyes 
 met, and so great is Lou's influence over me that 
 it was only by an effort of the will that I got 
 away. 
 
 Going home I cried. The day had been one of 
 excitement and strain, and my nerves are by no 
 means what they were a year ago. I longed un- 
 speakably for Graytown, as I had so often done 
 during the past month. Suddenly I laughed aloud. 
 To be implored to remain twice in one day in the 
 same household, was a very comical experience. 
 The laugh died away as I wondered wretchedly
 
 December. 135 
 
 whether I had done wrong in leaving Lou. Her 
 beseeching eyes remained with me, and the 
 recollection was almost as potent as Lou's actual 
 presence. What had I to do with her reception 
 of visitors? Lou was old enough and worldly 
 enough to manage her own affairs. Had she 
 not been mercilessly ridiculing me when Percy 
 was announced ? I sighed in despair. 
 
 Arrived at home, my eyes proved consider- 
 able of an embarrassment, for I had no plausible 
 explanation to give Marion, and I hate to be 
 mysterious. I was laudably endeavoring to look 
 pleasant as I entered the hall. Alas ! My ill- 
 luck seemed to have come to stay. From the 
 music-room came the notes of two violins, and 
 clever as Marion is, she could not play more than 
 one at a time! Crosson's polite murmur to the 
 effect that Mr. Allison had come in half-an-hour 
 ago, was quite unnecessary ; I knew at once that 
 he and Marion were playing duets. Already 
 over-wrought and upset, the situation acutely 
 annoyed me. Here was Lou's husband playing 
 duets with a young girl at my house, while his 
 wife was simultaneously entertaining in her 
 drawing-room, the young man with whom this 
 girl was in love! A man would have sworn; I 
 vented my emotions by a dash upstairs and a few 
 sharp words to Perkins about not having my 
 dinner-gown out. This was most unjust and
 
 136 Dainty Devils. 
 
 'foolish, as it was barely five o'clock, and yet I 
 do not know but what venting oneself upon the 
 Creator of heaven and earth is even worse. 
 
 " Will you dress at once, Madam ?" asked Per- 
 kins, astonished. 
 
 " No, no, did I say so ? Just fix my hair." 
 
 I waited a good while before I went down- 
 stairs. 
 
 " Oh, we're so glad you've come !" exclaimed 
 Marion. " Do please play the piano part of this." 
 
 I consoled myself instantly in regard to my 
 appearance. Both she and Allison were wholly 
 absorbed in the music, and would give no atten- 
 tion to the condition of my eyes. Even enthu- 
 siasts are practically useful at times. 
 
 "Dot!" 
 
 It was Marion, her bow suspended i.i air, her 
 eyes lit with indignant reproach. 
 
 " Do you know we are playing Handel's 
 Largo?" 
 
 " In the tempo of a waltz," supplemented Mr. 
 Allison, laughing at my dismayed countenance. 
 
 " I'll try to do better," I said, meekly. " You 
 must excuse me, but my mind was upon other 
 things." 
 
 " So it appears," returned Mr. Allison, dryly. 
 " You are far too free from care, Mrs. Wood- 
 ward, to fall readily into the slow, sad measure 
 of this."
 
 December. 137 
 
 It is a relief to know that I am becoming suc- 
 cessful in hiding my feelings. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Quite early this morning Belle St. John came 
 to see me, to Jack's surprise, as he knows her 
 usual hour for breakfast. 
 
 " What's wrong, Belle ?" he asked, as he shook 
 hands, and added he was about due at his office. 
 
 " Nothing, Jack. Got up early, perhaps, or 
 maybe didn't go to bed at all." 
 
 Jack was putting on his gloves, and frowned 
 ostensibly at the clasp, but in reality, at Belle. 
 
 " Allow me to remark, my dear girl, that you 
 look more like the latter. You're not taking 
 much care of yourself, Belle." 
 
 " And nobody cares," she sang, recklessly. 
 " Good-bye, Jack ; run along. It was Dot I came 
 to see." 
 
 " I hope she will teach you some manners," he 
 said, rather severely ; " and Dot, make her eat 
 some breakfast. I don't believe she has had 
 any." 
 
 Now I had an appointment at the dressmaker's, 
 and as soon as Jack had gone and Belle had short- 
 ly declined my invitation to the dining-room, I 
 rather jubilantly announced the fact. 
 
 " At Mme. Blanchesi's ? " asked Belle, relaps- 
 ing into her indolent manner. 
 
 " Yes."
 
 138 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Well, I'll go with you. I want to see what 
 she has. Anyway, I must have a talk with you, 
 and we can talk as well in the carriage as here." 
 
 There was no way out of it. I had indeed been 
 a dull diplomat when I proposed the dressmaker 
 to a woman like Belle. Ungraciously enough I 
 sat down beside her in the brougham, and, stub- 
 born and cross, waited for her to speak. A 
 mighty sigh was the first indication that Belle's 
 heart was heavy. I gazed out of the window, 
 pretending not to have heard the affectedly pa- 
 thetic sound. 
 
 " You must help me, Dot," she said, finally. 
 
 "In what?" coldly. 
 
 " You know very well." 
 
 I sat silent and unresponsive. 
 
 " You simply must get me out of it. I told 
 her she'd surely get the money to-day. She 
 threatens to go to Jack if I don't keep my word, 
 and I'm deathly afraid of Jack when it comes 
 to poker." Belle sat nervously squeezing her 
 left hand with her right. 
 
 " I don't wonder in the least. And I should 
 think if not afraid, you would be ashamed, to 
 go to Jack's wife." 
 
 Belle began to cry, raising both hands child- 
 ishly to her eyes. 
 
 " Listen to me, Dot," she whimpered. " I'll 
 surely pay you before long. One is bound to
 
 December. 139 
 
 win again some day. I felt confident of luck 
 being with me yesterday, and you know I'd been 
 under the weather in the morning, so late in the 
 afternoon I went over to Addie Layton's for a 
 change, and stopped informally to dinner." 
 
 Here Belle fairly sobbed. 
 
 " Did the dinner poison you ?" I asked, sar- 
 castically. 
 
 " You can be a fiend at times, Dot," Belle com- 
 mented, suddenly drying her eyes and gulping. 
 " I proposed a game as we left the dining-room 
 only Addie, her husband, Percy Earle and I. 
 Well, I lost another fifty, although we kept at 
 it till two this morning. That fifty Lou may 
 manage to give me. But the two hundred for 
 Mrs. Robertson Oh, Dot, for Heaven's sake 
 don't be so mean! I must pay her, or she will 
 disgrace me. She's wild for the money, and al- 
 though she says it's for the dressmaker, I don't 
 believe it. She must be in some kind of a scrape 
 herself. Don't you see you've got to help me? 
 And if you persist in being so stingy with your 
 money " 
 
 I was horribly excited. Belle's accusation of 
 stinginess maddened me. Pressing the electric 
 button, I had the carriage stopped and the foot- 
 man at the door in a couple of seconds. We were 
 at a Sixth Avenue crossing where a man with 
 both legs off was playing a blood-curdling accor-
 
 140 Dainty Devils. 
 
 deon in front of a saloon. Why, by-the-way, does 
 afflicted humanity so frequently haunt saloons? 
 Are half-intoxicated people more charitable than 
 respectable mortals in full posession of their 
 senses? A small boy holding a tin cup stood at 
 the cripple's side. The noise, the people, the 
 sight of the man's mutilated body, carried me 
 beyond myself. I beckoned energetically to the 
 thin little cup-bearer. The boy sprang nimbly 
 towards me, no doubt expecting a nickel. 
 Trembling, I emptied my purse into the cup. 
 There were five ten dollar bills and some change. 
 The child stood as if petrified, and the footman's 
 jaw dropped. From Belle there came a stifled 
 scream and a grab at my arm. 
 
 " Drive on," I said, in a shrill voice. 
 
 " Are you crazy ? " gasped Belle, as the door 
 slammed. 
 
 " No ; I only wanted to show you how much 
 I care about money. I'd rather give that cripple 
 all I have than pay a copper of your gambling 
 debts. And this is my last word upon the sub- 
 ject, Belle St. John." 
 
 The woman did not resent my words as I 
 expected. She sank back in her seat and closed 
 her eyes. She turned so pale that for an in- 
 stant I thought she had fainted. 
 
 " Belle," I cried, conscience-stricken, " Belle ! 
 Are you ill?"
 
 December. 141 
 
 I shook her in my anxiety. 
 
 " No," she said, wearily. " We must be nearly 
 at Madame's. I'll be all right there." 
 
 At that moment the carriage stopped. I hasti- 
 ly got out and told the footman to assist Mrs. 
 St. John. She spoke to a servant in the hall, 
 and we went into the reception-room together. 
 We were barely seated when the servant reap- 
 peared with a decanter and two glasses. I re- 
 membered the scene at Belle's breakfast in bed, 
 and was hardly surprised when, feeling faint as 
 she did, she took a generous drink of whiskey. 
 Her order to the maid, however, as she set down 
 the glass, completely shocked me. 
 
 " Have a couple of cocktails sent to us in 
 the fitting-room," she said, " and don't have them 
 weak." 
 
 " Are you better ? " I asked, in a perfunctory 
 manner. 
 
 " Yes, lots ! No thanks to you. I wonder if 
 Madame will keep you waiting long?" 
 
 She did not. I was presently in the fitting- 
 room, with Belle, no longer pale, at my elbow. 
 Madame was most respectful to Belle, ever so 
 much more than she was to me, and this although 
 Belle found fault with everything, even the tem- 
 perature of the room. I began to feel very tired 
 and utterly devoid of any interest in the gowns 
 being fitted to me. The excitement to which
 
 142 Dainty Devils. 
 
 I had yielded on the way down, had been fol- 
 lowed by extreme exhaustion. I was dismally 
 wishing I had let the dressmaker go for that 
 day, when the servant who had brought the whis- 
 key to the reception-room, came in with two cock- 
 tails in exquisite glasses upon a silver tray. 
 Belle took one nonchalantly, and the tray was 
 brought to me. 
 
 " No," I said, drawing back indignantly and 
 thereby suffering a nasty dig of a pin in my 
 arm. " I don't take cocktails." 
 
 Madame raised her eyebrows. 
 
 " Oh, madame," said she, " all ze ladies drink 
 ze cocktails at ze fitting. It is so fatiguing, ze 
 standing for long time." 
 
 " I do not do so," I said, emphatically. 
 
 " Bring it to me," murmured Belle. " It won't 
 be wasted." 
 
 Mme. Blanchesi made a remark in French to 
 the assistant, who was pinning flounces on my 
 skirt, to the effect that I was a stupid little thing, 
 and as for my figure, it was not laced enough. 
 
 My face blazed. Madame was not looking at 
 me and I held my peace till we were leaving. 
 Then I paused at the door and addressed the 
 bowing French woman in her own tongue. 
 
 " Send the bill with the gowns, if you please. 
 I shall be through with you at once." 
 
 All Madame's suavity did not prevent her from
 
 December. 143 
 
 starting violently. She managed to bow low and 
 muttered something unintelligible. 
 
 "Do you mind driving me somewhere and wait- 
 ing a few minutes ? " asked Belle, disspiritedly. 
 
 She looked ill and queer, and although I sus- 
 pected the cocktails, I could not well refuse her 
 request. 
 
 " Not at all, I am only going home." 
 
 Belle herself gave the address to the man. We 
 had proceeded a few squares further downtown 
 when the horses were pulled up. 
 
 " You're sure you won't lend me the two hun- 
 dred ? " Belle asked, turning after leaving the 
 carriage. 
 
 Silently I shook my head, again deprecating 
 the cocktails which I believed responsible for the 
 irrelevant question. 
 
 Belle continued upon her way. We were in 
 front of an ordinary four-story brownstone house, 
 and I dimly wondered who lived there. The 
 address was certainly not upon my visiting- 
 list. 
 
 Fifteen or twenty minutes elapsed before Belle 
 reappeared. She came down the steps rapidly 
 and had rather a frightened expression. The 
 " Home ! " she said to the footman was meek 
 compared with her habitual manner of giving an 
 order.
 
 144 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " It's the first time," she said, in a low voice, 
 " and I know it will not be the last." 
 
 " The last what ? " I asked, impatiently. I hate 
 riddles and conundrums, and Belle had me guess- 
 ing. 
 
 Belle laid her ungloved left hand upon my 
 knee. I gazed blankly at the trim fingers. They 
 told me nothing. 
 
 " Don't you see ? I generally wore an engage- 
 ment-ring, didn't I ? " She spoke slowly, softly, 
 as though imparting a secret. 
 
 There was a long pause. 
 
 Belle drew a deep breath. 
 
 " It was a glorious stone," she said, slowly ; 
 " they gave me three hundred after a very brief 
 haggle. I should have demanded more. They 
 showed me a lot of jewels which they tried to 
 make me believe were more valuable than mine, 
 and for which they had given much less money. 
 Oh, I recognized a few, Dot ! Addie Layton's 
 ruby stick-pin beyond a doubt. And there were 
 half a dozen others about which I am more than 
 half sure." 
 
 Involuntarily I moved away from Belle. 
 
 " Well, Pharisee," she said, tantalizingly, 
 " have you learned something new again some- 
 thing which, ' I thank Thee, Lord,' you have 
 never done ? Don't forget you made it necessary, 
 Pot."
 
 December. 145 
 
 " I don't know what I shall learn next," I said, 
 desperately. " But I know I still possess my 
 reason, and am in no way answerable for your 
 acts. If you didn't gamble, you would not be in 
 such a disgraceful position, nor have to sell your 
 jewelry." 
 
 " I merely pawned it," she said, tranquilly, " at 
 a delightful place frequented by the best society ; 
 however, unless I have appallingly good luck, it 
 will never be redeemed." 
 
 " Your engagement-ring ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes : and a fitting disposal of so outraged 
 a symbol. You never knew St. John, my dear, 
 and Jack is not a brute ; therefore you don't know 
 to what cruel misery a wedding is often the intro- 
 duction. If it were not for public opinion I'd 
 throw my wedding-ring into the river." 
 
 She was talking loudly now, and I had a sud- 
 den dread that through the open window her 
 voice would reach the coachman. It was with 
 enormous relief that I left her at her own door. 
 
 I sat and thought a long time alone in my room. 
 Father had brought me up to regard the sanctity 
 and obligations of marriage as stupendous things. 
 I could hear him saying to me shortly after 
 my engagement to Jack : " Little one, the right 
 kind of marriage means sacrifice, unselfishness, 
 patient devotion upon both sides, yet more 
 upon the wife's. Not infrequently, for the wife 
 
 IO
 
 146 Dainty Devils. 
 
 it is extreme suffering and death." Father had 
 paused here and his eyes had grown dim. I knew 
 he was thinking of mother, who died the day I 
 was born. " Love makes all this not only possi- 
 ble, but easy love and God's blessing. Are 
 yau sure your love for Jack is strong enough 
 to bear the test which marriage imposes ? " I 
 had been sure, and I am still sure, and we are 
 very happy. Are Jack and I the only ones who 
 are not wretched? I reviewed the women I 
 know best in this strange, unrestful, feverish 
 New York. Belle, virtually divorced ; Lou, on 
 the verge of public scandal ; Mrs. Layton, moan- 
 ing and complaining over the burden of her in- 
 creasing family, leaving her children to whatever 
 care they can get from middle-aged women up to 
 all kinds of tricks to spare themselves, who 
 come recommended for taking " full charge ! " 
 hating domesticity, abominating exertion in any 
 practical line, and exacting the most humiliating 
 attention from a husband whom she barely tol- 
 erates ; Mrs. Robertson, openly quarreling with 
 and ridiculing, the rather strait-laced man whom 
 she married for his money, and whom she 
 leads through a maze of dinners, balls, card- 
 parties, theatricals, and yachting and coaching 
 trips. 
 
 I paused in despair. These are the women 
 I know best. And the four are enough var-
 
 December. 147 
 
 legated, so to speak, by different ages and 
 circumstances, to be four pretty fair specimens 
 of New York society-women. Suddenly a light 
 broke over my gloom I had forgotten Marion 
 LaGrange's mother. Married at eighteen and 
 left a widow at twenty-one, with Marion just 
 a year old, rich and exceptionally beautiful and 
 winning, she had, out of love for her husband, 
 persistently refused to marry again, keeping the 
 memory of those four happy years as the fund 
 of her cheerfulness through life. Both Jack and 
 Marion had told me the story, and its corrobora- 
 tion shines in her face. 
 
 " One out of five," I told myself, sighing. 
 Once upon a time two cities would have been 
 spared, could only ten just men have been found. 
 Is the world as bad now as it was then ? 
 
 Just men! Jack is one. I think Allison is 
 another, although I admit that I cannot make 
 him out. Quiet, almost wooden indeed, some- 
 times a trivial action of peculiar tenderness breaks 
 through his self-contained manner. Last Sun- I 
 day coming from church, I saw him and no 
 one else did silently stroke a forlorn, scalded 
 cat. Lame Ann, who was ever ready with pro- 
 verbial criticisms of her associates and ac- 
 quaintances, had oracularly declared to me, more 
 than once, " Tis a^ good man who likes cats ! " 
 I found her words mentally repeating them-
 
 148 Dainty Devils. 
 
 selves as I regarded Mr. Allison in his furtive 
 petting of the outcast feline. Yes, I am not 
 afraid to state, unqualifiedly, that he is a just 
 man although a difficult riddle, too. Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson's husband would have been admirable in 
 his own country, say three hundred years ago. 
 Mr. Layton is certainly in love with his wife and 
 children, in spite of his wife's caustic tongue 
 and discontented disposition, which all things 
 considered, must make life a burden to him. The 
 other married men I do not know so well. As 
 for the unmarried! 
 
 Percy Earle ! Unmitigated wretch ! Breaking 
 Marion's heart, and for what? 
 
 Crosson is coming in with a card. My thought 
 has become incarnate. I go down to receive 
 
 Percy Earle. 
 
 ******* 
 
 I think I was red in the face when I silently 
 extended my hand to Mr. Percy Earle. He was 
 looking very handsome and smart in every par- 
 ticular. 
 
 " My third call, Mrs. Woodward," he said, 
 easily, " and the first time I find you at home." 
 
 " And the inference you draw ? " I asked, 
 rather haughtily, as we both sat down. 
 
 " Oh, there can be only two possibilities ; you 
 were really out or you were resting to preserve 
 your charming complexion."
 
 December. 149 
 
 I did not like that remark at all, and I retorted 
 impulsively : 
 
 " You forget the third possibility ; that I might 
 not want to see you." 
 
 Mr. Earle looked at a loss. There was a slight 
 pause, during which I felt uncomfortable, and 
 studied the floor. This time it was the man who 
 spoke first, which I think is not the rule, after 
 an embarrassing moment. I was completely 
 taken aback by the dignity in his voice as Mr. 
 Earle said ; 
 
 " Mrs. Woodward, only give me the slightest 
 hint that you were displeased at seeing my card, 
 and I shall respectfully withdraw." 
 
 I glanced up quickly. Often as I had met 
 him, I had found his eyes uniformly expression- 
 less, except while he was talking to Lou. They 
 now flashed at me alarmingly, in spite of the 
 calmness of his tone. Here was temper! 
 
 " I beg your pardon," I said, hastily ; " I was 
 very rude indeed. And I am not sorry you 
 came." 
 
 " Not sorry," he echoed, " and certainly not 
 glad. Well, you are at least frank, Mrs. Wood- 
 ward. I suppose I am to understand that you 
 don't approve of me ? " 
 
 This man was ten years younger than Jack, 
 but I felt very young and stupid as he sat 
 opposite me, with angry eyes and quiet words.
 
 150 Dainty Devils. 
 
 I wondered what had caused me to make that 
 unfortunate remark. I wished I had not come 
 down at all. As I sat in silent confusion, Mr. 
 Earle rose. 
 
 " You will allow me to bid you good evening, 
 Mrs. Woodward ? " 
 
 Impetuously I stepped toward him. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Earle, you must forgive me. Really, 
 I am very tired and upset, and I am so 
 sorry I said that. Only, you know, your words 
 about my charming complexion were simply hor- 
 rid, and I got very angry because I am nervous 
 and irritable to-day. Oh, dear me, how awfully 
 personal this conversation is ! " 
 
 Horrified, I felt that tears were not far off. 
 
 " Would it not be better to end it ? I regret 
 extremely that I have annoyed you when you 
 were already tired." 
 
 " No, sit down ; somehow you are different 
 from what I had thought." I must convince 
 Mr. Earle that I was not rattled. 
 
 I dropped into a chair, and reaching forward, 
 pushed one toward my visitor. He took it with 
 a grave, " Thank you." 
 
 "Are you going to the Opera to-night?" I 
 asked, in a desperate attempt to say something 
 upon safe ground. 
 
 " No, I think not. I'm going to a dinner at
 
 December. 151 
 
 Van Voorts', and that means cards afterwards, 
 you know." 
 
 I leaned forward, eagerly, conventionality once 
 more forgotten. 
 
 " There, Mr. Earle ! That is one of the things 
 you do which I don't like." The words were 
 barely out when I regretted them. 
 
 " I am flattered at your interest, really. Oh, 
 no, don't think I am speaking sarcastically. I 
 am not, I assure you. Mrs. Woodward, if I 
 may be as frank as yourself, may I ask if you 
 actually never play ? " 
 
 " Cards for money ? Never. I am sure no 
 nice woman ever does. " There was antagonism 
 in my voice. 
 
 " Take care ! We both know many." Mr. 
 Earle was frowning. 
 
 " They are not nice when they play, and ask 
 young men like you to play. So there ! Fancy 
 accepting money from a boy like you ! " 
 
 I was dreadfully in earnest. Mr. Earle 
 laughed. 
 
 " If I am a boy, you are hardly a grown girl. 
 Well, Mrs. Woodward, some women do not ac- 
 cept the money. I know one who requested a 
 couple of diamonds instead." He looked at me 
 quizzically. 
 
 " You don't ! I mean, how could anyone be 
 so awful ? And did you get them for her ? "
 
 152 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " I wasn't the man. But the man did." 
 
 " I should think her husband might have pro- 
 tested." 
 
 Mr. Earle shrugged his shoulders. He, and 
 a few other men, do it gracefully. 
 
 " Husbands don't seem to trouble themselves 
 much now-a-days about the little peculiarities of 
 their wives." 
 
 " Mr. Earle ! " I spoke very severely. He cer- 
 tainly knew better of Jack. Not that I have ever 
 put Jack to the test, but still 
 
 " There are a few shining exceptions, as there 
 are a few exceptional wives." This with his 
 conventional manner and bow to me. 
 
 " Oh," I exclaimed, impatiently, " I don't like 
 you a bit when you descend to miserable, thread- 
 bare compliments. Why don't you stay angry 
 and on your dignity ? " 
 
 " You think anger becoming? " very gravely. 
 
 " I consider it at least manly, provided it 
 be exhibited in the right place, and under perfect 
 control." 
 
 " Thank you for the implied compliment. I 
 admit that you are more subtle and graceful 
 in flattery than any man could hope to be. Let 
 me tell you one thing although I play poker 
 or bridge, often most of the night, I'm not pas- 
 sionately fond of cards. To be candid, I gener- 
 ally lose, and my income is not so enormous that
 
 December. 153 
 
 I can remain unmoved by a loss. At the present 
 time, an invitation to dinner, particularly where 
 a man is well-acquainted, almost invariably means 
 the obligation of playing cards afterwards ; so," 
 smiling, " I fill my pockets with small bills, 
 and invoke the imps that the ante may be low." 
 
 " Why aren't you man enough to refuse ? " 
 
 " When a woman puts the invitation? Do you 
 understand men so slightly as that, Mrs. Wood- 
 ward ? " Mr. Earle was leaning forward, all 
 attention, and even my sensitiveness could no 
 longer detect any banter in his voice or man- 
 ner. 
 
 " And you'd let your wife give such invita- 
 tions?" I asked, earnestly. 
 
 Mr. Earle shifted upon his chair. 
 
 " I am not married," he said, stiffly. 
 
 " You will be some day," I urged. How would 
 Marion get along with his temper ! 
 
 " No," he said, shortly. " Never. You may 
 take my word for that. Anyway," frivolously, 
 " if your judgment is right, I'm not fit to marry. 
 You know you hardly wished to receive me to- 
 day." 
 
 " I think I have already sufficiently apologized, 
 Mr. Earle," I said, feeling that this handsome 
 boy was rather getting the better of me. It did 
 not seem as if Marion would be invited to ex- 
 periment with the temper.
 
 1 54 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Why should you apologize, come to think of 
 it? No one can like everybody. I hate a few 
 people most cordially Worst of all an aged dow- 
 ager who glares at me regularly whenever I 
 meet her, from the aggressive fortress of a dizzy 
 pink gown." 
 
 " Dizzy pink," I repeated, laughing ; " what 
 may that mean, Mr. Earle ? " 
 
 Percy Earle laughed heartily. 
 
 " Well, you might not find the color mentioned 
 by that name in the shops, Mrs. Woodward. But 
 don't you know the shade I mean? That 
 offensive, blazing pink which somehow makes 
 one's head swim to look at? It gives me the 
 nearest sensation to being dizzy, of anything I 
 know ; particularly when a withered old creature 
 audaciously dons it." 
 
 " Yes, I do know the shade you mean. I never 
 wear it." 
 
 " No, I should fancy not. You hardly fit into 
 the description of a withered old woman." 
 
 " Mr. Earle," I exclaimed, " you seem to be 
 perpetually laughing at me." 
 
 Mr. Earle bit his lip, but not before I caught 
 his smile. 
 
 " I should never dare make fun of you, Mrs. 
 Woodward ; you command too much respect." 
 
 " As though I could accept that in earnest 
 while your eyes are wriggling with amusement !
 
 December. 155 
 
 Tell me," suddenly, " have you seen Marion La- 
 Grange recently ? " I was still considering the 
 temper. 
 
 " Let me think. No, not since the cotillion at 
 Robertsons'. Actually four days ago." 
 
 " She's beautiful, don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Yes," dispassionately. No temper of any 
 sort visible now. 
 
 " If I were a man I'd fall in love with her," 
 I persisted. 
 
 Percy raised his eyebrows. 
 
 " I believe several men have felt that way," 
 said he. 
 
 I sighed in despair; it was only too plainly 
 evident that Marion was of no interest whatever 
 to Percy Earle. 
 
 " What made you sigh, Mrs. Woodward ? " 
 
 " Oh, men are such fools," I said, recklessly. 
 
 " For loving Marion LaGrange ? Isn't that 
 rather inconsistent after declaring if you were 
 a man you would fall in love with her yourself? " 
 
 My lips parted to say most injudicious words. 
 There was some fever in the atmosphere which 
 was precipitating me into unreckoning candor. 
 I wonder what would have been the result had 
 I said to Mr. Earle, " You are the particular 
 fool I have in mind, because you don't love her? " 
 What would society be like if every one upon all 
 j occasions told " the truth, the whole truth, and
 
 156 Dainty Devils. 
 
 jiothing_but_the truth! " I quail before the pic- 
 ture. 
 
 Conventionality interposed in the form of Cros- 
 son with the tea-tray. Did the wretch have 
 a surmising expression upon his face because I 
 sat leaning forward upon my chair in the ex- 
 citement of the remark I had nearly made? I 
 straightened up and leaned back hastily. It was 
 a sign of Percy Earle's self-possession and savoir 
 faire that he remained in his quizzing, nonchal- 
 ant position, his elbow upon his knee, and his chin 
 resting upon his hand. I felt myself flushing 
 at the silly start I had given. 
 
 " You will have tea with me ? " I managed to 
 say, sincerely hoping he would. And to think 
 that I was beginning to like him ! 
 
 " Thank you," springing up. " I can't. I had 
 no idea it was so late. I promised to drop in 
 at Mrs. Allison's." 
 
 Very disconsolately, had he only known it, I 
 accepted his adieu. I wished devoutly that he 
 had been going anywhere else rather than to 
 Lou's. 
 
 " May I come again ? " he asked, gaily. 
 
 " Yes," I answered, seriously ; " whenever you 
 like." 
 
 Jack found me with the untouched tea before 
 me.
 
 December. 157 
 
 " Well ! Had visitors ? And weren't they 
 nice?" 
 
 I kissed him rather absently. 
 
 " Only one Percy Earle. He's different from 
 what I thought." 
 
 I am sure it is all Lou's fault: which may be 
 the severity of one woman upon another, to be 
 sure, and yet I do not know. 
 
 There were two reasons why I did not tell 
 Jack about Belle's visit to a pawn-broker. First, 
 it would not be honorable to betray what she 
 certainly considered a confidence ; second, it 
 would have humiliated me too painfully to admit 
 that one of my sex was so lacking in womanly 
 respect and reserve. Had anyone related the 
 story to me, I should have said my credulity was 
 not equal to the strain of believing it. As 
 it is, I cannot deny what I have seen and heard. 
 I am wofully disappointed all around: I ex- 
 pected New York society to be something extra- 
 ordinarily fine and elevated. The facts force me 
 to confess that Belle St. John would be a pitiable 
 mesalliance for, well, Rube Stevens ; while 
 most of the others I know, would be com- 
 pelled to move out of Gray town if ever they 
 attempted to domicile themselves there, because 
 morals at home are still in the old-fashioned, 
 intact state produced by the preaching of the 
 Ten Commandments to people who believe they
 
 158 Dainty Devils. 
 
 have souls. And the scintillations produced 
 here by the clashing of old ideas with new de- 
 fiance of them, would in such communities, be 
 considered as nothing less than prophetic gleams 
 
 from the awful fire which burns in Hell. 
 
 ******* 
 
 In the soul of Mrs. Alexander Robertson 
 there can be but two highly-developed attributes : 
 the first, self-indulgence ; the second, co-equal 
 in all things, although of necessity separately 
 named the faculty of hoodwinking her husband. 
 Mr. Robertson is piously inclined, conscientious 
 if not intellectual, and while not always openly 
 opposed to his wife's proceedings and mode of 
 life, at least dazedly miserable and uneasy under 
 many of her doings. Mr. Robertson possesses, 
 for instance, a deeply grounded prejudice against 
 what he designates the " profanation of the Sab- 
 bath." Well and good, says Mrs. Robertson. 
 The Sabbath shall not be profaned. Alex- 
 ander stolidly but persistently protesting against 
 dinner-giving upon Sunday, as contrary to the 
 spirit of a holy and recollected Lord's Day, Mrs. 
 Robertson calmly assents to the taboo, in letter 
 if not in spirit, and issues written invitations 
 for a supper at ten o'clock, on Sunday evening 
 next. Surely a supper is not a dinner, particu- 
 larly when partaken of at the chastened hour of 
 ten at night !
 
 December. 159 
 
 " Shall we eat anything between luncheon at 
 half-past one and that supper at ten, Jack ? " 
 
 " You'd better, Dot. Make your five o'clock 
 tea rather substantial, and I'll join you at it." 
 
 Probably it is odd that no scruple prevented 
 my accepting what was for me such a novel 
 invitation. The explanation lies in the fact that 
 I ignorantly pictured a nice innocent little meal 
 with hot biscuits, or waffles maybe, such as Lame 
 Ann triumphantly set before us when Uncle Dai- 
 ton or a couple of College Professors called Sun- 
 day afternoon and remained so late that Ann, 
 provided she was in good humor, would not have 
 them depart fasting. The good humor lacking, 
 it was Ann's scheme to light no lamps, and by 
 this means have darkness remind the visitors 
 that it was time to go home. No one questioned 
 Anna's decision, neither father, visitors, nor I. 
 
 At half-after-nine, decorously gowned in blue 
 broadcloth of tailor-make, I appeared before 
 Jack in his den. He glanced up from a book 
 and stared in an uncomplimentary fashion at my 
 faultless costume. 
 
 " Hello ! You'd better dress." 
 
 " Why, isn't this good enough ? " 
 
 " Good enough ! Don't you know we're going 
 to Robertsons' supper? Mrs. Robertson would 
 fancy you had dressed for a funeral." 
 
 " Certainly I know we are going. Do you
 
 160 Dainty Devils. 
 
 mean," incredulously, " I ought to wear an even- 
 ing-gown? It's Sunday, Jack." 
 
 " If you're going, dear, you must dress as for 
 any dinner." 
 
 I stood still, shocked, although for the life 
 of me, I could not have told exactly why. Father 
 positively had not brought me up a Puritan. 
 
 "What's the trouble, little one?" Jack tossed 
 away his cigar and stood up. " You know you 
 needn't go if you don't want to. For my part 
 I can't see where the harm comes in." 
 
 " No," I said, rather softly and meekly. " I'll 
 be ready in ten minutes. If if I don't like it, 
 I needn't go again." 
 
 Jack made some remark which I did not hear, 
 because, nervous at the idea that we should in 
 all probability be late, I was flying up the stairs. 
 I am possessed of a blind terror of Mrs. Robert- 
 son's well-known temper; and we should be 
 tardy at a time when it was a question of things 
 to eat, I gravely reflected. 
 
 Perkins did not stare very much when I per- 
 emptorily ordered my white crepe de Chine. Of 
 all my evening gowns it is the least gorgeous; 
 and still under the influence of some inborn dis- 
 approval of giddy clothes upon Sunday, I com- 
 promised with my murmuring conscience by un- 
 hesitatingly choosing the simplest thing I have, 
 that would be considered correct at dinner. For
 
 December. 161 
 
 I sternly told myself that Mrs. Robertson's invi- 
 tations had been written lies. 
 
 While being hooked and pinned and buttoned 
 into evening clothes, I fumed within at the delay 
 my toilet was causing. Woman's obligations to 
 costume are a warning to man not to riot 
 to any great extent in recent additions to the 
 form, color or texture of his practical-for-all- 
 purposes attire, which has served so well and 
 so satisfactorily several generations of his kind. 
 Jack has taken up with many innovations 
 since the first day I knew him in Graytown, little 
 dreaming what trouble he is laying up for him- 
 self. How much handsomer he is in strictly 
 black, white or gray things ! Perhaps Rube Stev- 
 ens spoiled me for admiration of colored waist- 
 coats and other togs. I never see gay clothes 
 upon a man without fancying I hear the jingle 
 of Rube's jewelry. He was exactly like a poor, 
 ignorant, brainless girl prancing to the accompan- 
 iment of her tinkling tin bangles and chains. 
 
 Quite flustered, I reached Jack's den as the 
 clock struck ten. 
 
 " I couldn't be any quicker, somehow." 
 
 "That's all right. We'll be there in ten 
 minutes." 
 
 But one horse lost a shoe, and the streets were 
 icy. Fifth Avenue was so crowded with vehicles 
 that we got into almost a hopeless block, and it 
 II
 
 162 Dainty Devils. 
 
 was a good half-hour before we stepped inside 
 Mrs. Robertson's door. 
 
 There is a delicate consolation, a subtle en- 
 couragement, in finding other guests in the room 
 where one removes her wraps. This time two 
 disengaged maids stepped forward as I entered. 
 My heart sank. I was surely the last one, and 
 all the rest had gone downstairs. Twice between 
 the mirror and the door I dropped my fan. The 
 second time, the maid bestowed upon me a humil- 
 iating glance of pity. 
 
 Silently I took Jack's arm. Laughter and 
 many voices were floating gayly through the 
 house. As we descended, the notes of a Neapol- 
 itan orchestra of violins and mandolins trembled 
 and kling-klanged in the familiar contradictory 
 and inconsistent fashion, from behind some the- 
 atrical palms I mean they were the so-called 
 preserved ones, not genuinely sprouting things, 
 at the back of the great hall. Involuntarily I 
 paused. It was Sunday, and the mandolins 
 sounded so very frivolous and irreverent. Ah! 
 A boy's voice began the " Holy City." 
 
 " How beautiful," I whispered, my emotions 
 instantly changing, and my conscience oddly 
 soothed. 
 
 A loud peal of merriment jarred into the sweet 
 soprano voice. Lou Allison's laugh was recog- 
 nizable before we entered the drawing-room and
 
 December. 163 
 
 Mrs. Robertson greeted us. The latter was a 
 spectacle to jar the brain of anybody seriously 
 inclined to the artistic. Her garments were a 
 medley of purple and poppy red, and immense 
 lumps of jet apparently thrown at the gown from 
 a distance and then made fast wherever they 
 struck. A great bunch of artificial flowers was 
 attached to her coiffure above the left ear. Evi- 
 dently she had essayed a fuchsia color scheme 
 with her flaming fuchsia complexion! Then 
 her hair was low on her neck, and her head is 
 quite too thick through, without that. 
 
 The whole scene, as it burst upon us, was a 
 glaring travesty upon the hymn being sung out- 
 side. About twenty people were waiting the 
 announcement for supper, all in evening-dress, 
 all talking and flirting and jesting, paying no 
 attention whatever to the music, speaking rather 
 more loudly and boisterously in order to be heard 
 above the singing and accompaniment. Our hos- 
 tess was plainly provoked because we were late. 
 
 " I am glad you have got here at last," she 
 shouted, completely drowning the .singers' cres- 
 cendo. 
 
 I bowed silently and with becoming humility, 
 glad that I need not undertake an apology while 
 the singing continued. 
 
 " Mr. Van Voort will take you in," said Mrs. 
 Robertson in the same tone. Here the music
 
 164 Dainty Devils. 
 
 sank to an unexpected diminuendo and the last 
 three words burst upon the company like three 
 shrill Indian yells. A young girl laughed, and 
 Mrs. Robertson flushed angrily. 
 
 Was it spite which impelled her to assign to 
 me Mr. Van Voort? We harmonize like oil and 
 water. I relinquished Jack and saw him allotted 
 the doubtful pleasure of Addie Layton's society. 
 Mr. Van Voort, bowing from the waist so 
 that his body was fairly kinked, presented his 
 arm to me, and I was resignedly moving down 
 the drawing-room with him, when an elderly 
 dowager stood suddenly in front of us. She was 
 a hideous old creature in low-necked white satin 
 of cheap texture and rather soiled. She wore 
 a brown wig too far back upon her head, and 
 a little dot of rouge upon each cheek-bone. 
 
 " So you're the young person that has kept us 
 all waiting ! " said she, severely. " What made 
 you so late ? " 
 
 " Mamma ! " exclaimed Mrs. Robertson, dash- 
 ing at the old woman and looking embarrassed 
 for the first and only time in my acquaintance 
 with her. Her own displeasure had at least 
 not reached quite such freedom as this. 
 
 I gasped and stammered, while Mr. Van Voort 
 undisguisedly giggled. Never before had I heard 
 of Mrs. Robertson's mother. 
 
 " Mrs. Woodward is an important personage,
 
 December. 165 
 
 you know," said Van Voort, in his thin, silly 
 voice, " and for such, one is always delighted to 
 wait." 
 
 He dragged me on, giggling continuously. 
 
 " Beastly old creature," he confided. " Won't 
 give any one a cent, and is as rich as the devil. 
 Oh, I beg your pardon, you know. Hear you're 
 awfully proper and easily shocked. Must get 
 over it, Mrs. Woodward. Watch my wife and 
 Belle St. John. There's no shocking those two 
 girls, you know. I tell Alice I don't know who 
 is the greater case she or her chum Belle." 
 
 Though only momentary, it was an apprecia- 
 ble relief to be looking for my place and able 
 to drop Mr. Van Voort's arm. There were two 
 round tables in the dining-room, each a perfect 
 fantasy of roses, pink-shaded lights, silver and 
 gold. Four men in Mrs. Robertson's fantastic 
 livery, stood waiting to serve this Sunday-night 
 supper. I forgot Mr. Van Voort's maddening 
 grin and his ugly little moustache, while I dis- 
 covered that Mr. Allison would sit at my left, 
 and Percy Earle directly opposite me. Jack was 
 at the other table, a disappointment that was 
 materially ameliorated by the fact that the 
 awful dowager in white satin was also assigned 
 to the table at which I was not. This arrange- 
 ment was undoubtedly not without purpose. 
 Mrs. Robertson had found it desirable to main-
 
 166 Dainty Devils. 
 
 tain a grip, as it were, upon her uncertain and 
 erratic maternal ancestor. Mr. Robertson, a 
 very silent and abstracted host, was at our 
 table. Apparently there was nothing to his 
 taste; for every line in his severe face por- 
 trayed acute disapproval from the moment the 
 first course was served, and his expression of 
 condemnation steadily intensified as the dinner 
 wore on. 
 
 " Robertson's enough to give one indigestion, 
 isn't he, Mrs. Woodward ? " Van Voort whis- 
 pered, holding a stalk of celery before his mouth 
 and if it did not exactly match his moustache ! 
 
 " I prefer him to " I almost said " you," and 
 barely tripped myself up in time to substitute, 
 " some others." 
 
 " To the mother-in-law for instance ? He-he- 
 he! She's a fierce old screw, and cares for 
 nothing but saving money. Lives in a hole of 
 a place in Maine, and when she swoops upon her 
 daughter in New York, she appears in evening 
 togs bought second-hand. Why, it was her cru- 
 elty and miserliness that made her daughter take 
 old Robertson. She made the girl do housework, 
 as though she needed to save, you know." Mr. 
 Van Voort wrinkled his face up until he was a 
 perfect counterpart of the biggest monkey in 
 Central Park. " What a beastly bore it must
 
 December. 167 
 
 be to bother about money ! Fancy having to 
 scrimp ! " 
 
 " I needn't fancy having to save. I'm sure," 
 sweetly, " that Mrs. Van Voort has told you we 
 were obliged to live very economically at home. 
 The necessity has been stern reality in my case." 
 Then with a gold fork and spoon, I helped my- 
 self mechanically to sweet breads aux truffes. 
 
 Mr. Van Voort stared blankly. If, in his 
 ethics, it is idiocy to be poor, it is greater idiocy 
 to acknowledge the shameful fact. Mr. Allison, 
 was laughing heartily, but quietly, at my left. 
 The two men can not love each other to any 
 great extent : when they met, they merely bowed 
 distantly instead of shaking hands as I saw all 
 the other men do. 
 
 " Isn't it strange," I asked, thinking aloud, 
 " that the LaGranges aren't here ? " 
 
 " Not at all, you know. Marion won't go any- 
 where but to church on Sunday. Dead slow, 
 anyway, isn't she ? " 
 
 " Not in the least," I returned, showing my 
 vexation. " She is simply above your power of 
 comprehension." 
 
 " Oh ah Come now ! It must be below, 
 don't you think ? " 
 
 " That would be impossible, Mr. Van Voort." 
 
 " Oh, my, but you're a termagant ! I pity 
 Woodward ! Upon my soul I do ! "
 
 1 68 Dainty Devils. 
 
 It was no use to flare up. I had been rude 
 and quick-tempered and the first fault lay with 
 me. Not in the least offended, Mr. Van Voort 
 devoted himself tenderly and lingeringly to a 
 pate, and I lost my anger in speculating as to 
 whether Marion would cease to respect me be- 
 cause I had gone to Mrs. Robertson's supper. 
 I am acquiring the tendency of regarding my- 
 self in the light of Marion's conscience, instead 
 of my own. It is not so comfortable as the old 
 way. The changing of plates brought me out 
 of an untimely revery. Van Voort, beaming 
 under the spell of another rich and delectable 
 dish, was once more a picture of grinning amia- 
 bility. 
 
 Two hours we sat at table, and as champagne 
 again and again ceased to sparkle in the glasses, 
 it appeared to dance bewilderingly in the guests' 
 heads. Higher and more hilarious waxed the 
 spirits of the company. The Neapolitan musi- 
 cians played at intervals only to fulfill their con- 
 tract, I am sure, for no one listened; two 
 or three times the boy-soprano sang. Suddenly, 
 as he began the first verse of Neidlinger's Ser- 
 enade, Mrs. Robertson's mother rose threaten- 
 ingly. In leaving her seat she overturned a 
 couple of glasses, an accident which did not in 
 the least disconcert her. Possibly because they 
 were empty.
 
 December. 169 
 
 " Have that music stopped/' she cried : " it's 
 Sunday." 
 
 " Pardon me, mamma, it's a quarter past 
 twelve, and therefore Monday morning." Mrs. 
 Robertson, with all her coarse braggadocio man- 
 ner was afraid of her rattle-brained mother. 
 What a very palpable sort of a family-skeleton 
 to be afflicted with ! 
 
 " Oh, how scandalous ! At dinner half the 
 night!" 
 
 But the old lady was befuddled even a trifle 
 more than nature had intended, and dropped back 
 harmlessly in her seat to drink one more glass 
 of champagne. 
 
 The heat in the dining-room was stifling. All 
 the women whose hair did not curl naturally 
 began to look stringy about the forehead. This 
 over-heating is a frequent cause of misery at 
 New York functions. Upon each occasion it calls 
 forth, as though it were something quite new, 
 complaints and growls innumerable; but it never 
 fails to be an adjunct of the very next entertain- 
 ment one attends which recalls a remark I heard 
 Percy Earle make to Jack : 
 
 " Did you assist at the Bayley-Taylor wed- 
 ding? " asked Jack. 
 
 " No, old man," was Percy's reply, " I per- 
 spired at it." 
 
 Besides the heat, the heavy perfume of several
 
 170 Dainty Devils. 
 
 hundreds of roses had made the atmosphere so 
 intensely oppressive that I found myself growing 
 sleepy, and was seeking comfort in the thought 
 that I could not possibly be affected by the wine 
 for the best of reasons I had not taken any 
 when suddenly I became interested and wide- 
 awake. 
 
 " Go on, Percy. Tell it." 
 
 " No, Addie ; I don't enjoy discussing my rel- 
 atives." This, turning slightly in his chair : for 
 Mrs. Layton was next to Jack at the other table. 
 
 " If you don't, I will." 
 
 " That I can't help." Percy scowled om- 
 inously. Mrs. Layton gave an excited laugh. 
 
 " You all know Lil, my sister who married 
 the Philadelphian ? " Several chuckled an affirm- 
 ative ; probably Lil was a good sort. 
 
 " Well, perhaps you haven't forgotten her prize 
 St. Bernard?" 
 
 " Of course not," piped Mr. Van Voort, eag- 
 erly. " I wish she'd sell it to me." 
 
 " She might be willing just now. Lil's very 
 fond of going about, you know, and staying at 
 home with her young infant hasn't pleased her 
 particularly. Well, that St. Bernard dog was 
 madly devoted to the baby from the first day, 
 and remained day and night beside the crib until, 
 when Lil's child was three weeks old, some pup- 
 pies arrived. Then the trouble began. The dog
 
 December. 171 
 
 seemed half-frantic between devotion to Lil's 
 baby and to its own puppies, and would trot up 
 and down the stairs dozens of times every day 
 to look first at the doggies and then at the child." 
 
 " Is it possible ? " exclaimed Van Voort, who 
 had apparently been begrudging Lil this dog for 
 some time. " What an extraordinary beast ! " 
 
 Mrs. Layton was warming up to her subject. 
 This was the first occasion upon which I had ever 
 seen her show any animation except along the line 
 of petulancy. Query : Is champagne really good 
 for such characters? Perhaps, only the reaction 
 next day is liable to be extreme. Fancy Addie 
 Layton crosser and more discontented than she 
 is normally ! 
 
 " Extraordinary, and very exciting it proved. 
 When the baby was six weeks old, and the pup- 
 pies three, Lil wanted to go to a ball." Mrs. 
 Layton paused; after a second she resumed in 
 a tone calculated to dig into the conscience of 
 every married man present. " She has a most 
 exacting husband, and is terribly afraid of him, 
 poor child ! " The sigh was deep, and a scath- 
 ing glance flashed across to Mr. Layton, who 
 wilted most gratifyingly. " Now the infant's 
 nurse, like all servants, managed to have a 
 relative die on the day of the ball, and Lil was 
 in a quandary. Her husband had laid down an 
 iron rule that either she or the nurse must be with
 
 172 Dainty Devils. 
 
 the baby day and night. Easily understood with 
 the first ! " Another sigh, and I immediately ex- 
 pected to hear something about the " five help- 
 less children ; " however, Mrs. Layton must have 
 alluded to them inaudibly, for she went on with 
 the story. 
 
 " Lil decided to say nothing about the nurse's 
 absence, as her husband in his unreasonable way 
 would have insisted upon her stay ing at home, and 
 told her maid that she must remain in the nur- 
 sery all night. She was under no circumstances 
 to leave the baby alone." 
 
 I began to wonder whether Mrs. Layton had 
 forgotten the St. Bernard doggie of which I was 
 longing to hear more. 
 
 " Everything nicely arranged, Lil departed for 
 the ball, leaving the French maid stationed at 
 the crib. Lil says she had a perfectly glorious 
 time, and forgot all about the youngster. But 
 when she and Arthur came home at three o'clock 
 in the morning, they found their baby gone." 
 
 " Mercy ! " cried one of the young girls, and 
 indeed everybody started, even the men, except 
 Percy Earle, who did not seem to relish the re- 
 cital at all. Mrs. Layton was enjoying her own 
 story immensely. She Sat abstractedly, creasing 
 her napkin into little pleats, her eyes brilliant, 
 her small face animated and flushed. 
 
 " Picture the household ! The maid had been
 
 December. 173 
 
 entertaining her sweetheart in the lower hall 
 till twelve o'clock, when he went on duty as 
 somebody's night-watchman. She went up to the 
 nursery then, to find the coverings of the crib 
 all in disorder, and the baby gone. Of course 
 she waked the household, and when Lil and Ar- 
 thur returned, the place was illuminated, and a 
 set of crazy servants awaited them. The French 
 maid had been struck by the cook for her care- 
 lessness, and was on her knees vowing all kinds 
 of penance if the baby were found, while she held 
 cracked ice against the eye the cook had almost 
 put out ! " 
 
 "Did they find the child?" Mrs. Robertson 
 asked, in a bored voice. 
 
 " Arthur tore around like a maniac, telegraphed 
 the police station, and then began to run through 
 the house. It's a huge place, with backstairs 
 about a mile from the front ones, but as he 
 opened the door to the lowest flight, Lil stopped 
 her hysterics, and the servants their praying 
 and wailing, for all very distinctly heard the cry- 
 ing of a baby." 
 
 " Where was it ? " asked half-a-dozen. 
 
 " In the basket with Donna and her puppies, 
 while Donna was crying to it in great distress." 
 
 Various exclamations greeted this climax of 
 Mrs. Layton's dog-story, which certainly was a
 
 174 Dainty Devils. 
 
 compliment to Donna's intelligence and maternal 
 affection. 
 
 " Do you mean to say," said Mr. Allison, in 
 his deliberate way, " that the dog heard the baby 
 fretting upstairs, and went and fetched it ? " 
 
 Mrs. Layton smiled in her superior manner. 
 She never relaxes her lips entirely, and the re- 
 sult is a small, sarcastic smirk. Belle St. John 
 says Addie has lost the first bicuspid tooth on 
 the left, and that the restricted play of her lips 
 is due to her desire to hide the resulting vacuum. 
 Whatever the reason, Addie's abbreviated smiles 
 appear perfectly consistent with her manner and 
 character. 
 
 " More than that, Lil says that whenever 
 Donna heard the infant cry, she would run up- 
 stairs to inquire, as it were, what was wrong, 
 and invariably stayed away from the puppies till 
 the baby was quiet. Upon this occasion, the pup- 
 pies must have been awake and crying too, and 
 Donna, torn between two loves, carried the baby 
 down to her own family so that she could man- 
 age all of them at once. But wasn't it cute ? " 
 She appealed to Allison. 
 
 " It was more than cute, it was motherly be- 
 yond" 
 
 Mrs. Robertson's mother interrupted Allison. 
 
 " That's what I say," cried she, " motherly be- 
 yond the inhuman mother you call Lil. Let her
 
 December. 175 
 
 learn from the dog and be thankful for the op- 
 portunity." 
 
 This outburst brought a spasm to Mrs. Robert- 
 son's face, and a well-meant murmur from two 
 or three of the guests who wished to drown, 
 as it were, the shocking remarks by hastening to 
 speak of something, anything, wide of the un- 
 lucky subject which had started the half-crazy 
 old woman's indignant loquacity. 
 
 " I was about to say," Allison went on calmly, 
 " that the dog placed herself upon a higher plane 
 than the world generally allots the brute crea- 
 tion." 
 
 " The mother was a brute to leave her young 
 baby to the mercy of a giddy girl, besides act- 
 ing a lie to her husband. You'd better put the 
 mother in the brute creation, and the dog with 
 the human." Mrs. Robertson's mamma was not 
 to be extinguished, and if her thoughts were not 
 lucid, they were at least emphatic. 
 
 Rising in clumsy haste, with the capability of 
 strangling her mother in her eyes, Mrs. Robert- 
 son spoke in a suffocated voice : 
 
 " Shall we not leave trie men to themselves ? " 
 
 Percy Earle, Mr. Van Voort, and a thin young 
 man who had spoken little and seemed but slight- 
 ly acquainted with trie party, left the dining- 
 room with the rather unfortunately amused 
 women. Even Mrs. Robertson's bosom friends
 
 176 Dainty Devils. 
 
 rejoice in her annoyance at times. For an in- 
 stant I was disappointed, because Jack left Mrs. 
 Layton at the door, and returned to the mystic 
 rite of the men's coffee and cigars. Afterwards 
 I was glad he did, because enough remarks have 
 been made about his being tied to my apron- 
 string. 
 
 It was a quarter-to-one. Sunday evening was 
 well gone. The musicians had departed, and a 
 sudden stillness settled upon the house. Ciga- 
 rettes and liqueurs being passed, nearly every 
 woman began to smoke, and smoking checks con- 
 versation. Lou Allison, who had been decidedly 
 chagrined at being separated from Percy Earle 
 all through the supper, claimed him now, and 
 they slipped into one of the far corners of the 
 immense drawing-room, from which now and 
 then Lou's cigarette sent out light wreaths of 
 smoke. 
 
 Presently Addie Layton began to fuss. Re- 
 pose is not in her line. Sundry bitings of the 
 lips, jerks of the head, workings of the fingers, 
 caused me to wonder what was worrying her. I 
 soon knew. Layton appearing from the dining- 
 room, she sprang up in quite a tiger-like fashion. 
 
 " I told you to come in five minutes," she com- 
 plained, " and you've been all of fifteen." 
 
 " Sorry, my dear," was the meek and smiling
 
 December. 177 
 
 return. " Are you really in such haste to be 
 off?" 
 
 " I'm tired to death," in a very aggrieved tone. 
 " Men never think of anything except their own 
 amusement." 
 
 Two other men had wandered in, after Lay- 
 ton, and their wives taking the cue from Addie, 
 Mrs. Robertson's guests were rapidly reduced by 
 six. I fancied the hostess appeared glad of 
 their departure. Mrs. Robertson is a woman 
 who flourishes best when in the society of only 
 the most congenial spirits few and choice, but 
 of the right vintage. 
 
 No one bothered about conversing with me 
 during the general lull which again prevailed in 
 the drawing-room, and glancing idly about I 
 soon found myself watching the thin young man 
 who was a good deal of a stranger to his sur- 
 roundings. I knew he was a cousin of Marion 
 LaGrange's mother, a boy but a few months from 
 a country-town, and my heart went out to him 
 in sincerest sympathy: we were to a certain ex- 
 tent companions in misery. The self-assured 
 young girl whom he had taken in to dinner had 
 frightened him almost into imbecility by her vol- 
 ubility and impertinence. His natural bashful- 
 ness and awkwardness were painfully accentu- 
 ated by the wine, of which he had taken more 
 than was good for him. The only people he 
 
 12
 
 178 Dainty Devils. 
 
 seemed to know well were the Robertsons and 
 Percy Earle. 
 
 " Dear me ! What shall we do next? " yawned 
 Belle St. John. 
 
 " We might have a game of bridge," suggested 
 Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 " Who The lot of us ? " querulously. 
 
 " No, hardly." 
 
 " I don't like bridge : I never have any luck." 
 
 " Well, poker isn't so worse," squealed Mr. 
 Van Voort, from the other side of the room. 
 " How about you and Mrs. Rob, Belle, and Ned- 
 die Lawrence and me? Or as many as want 
 to?" 
 
 Neddie Lawrence, as he called the slender 
 youth, looked alarmed. 
 
 " I don't play extra well," he ventured. 
 
 " Nonsense. It's nothing but luck. You may 
 clean us all out," said Mrs. Robertson's heavy 
 voice. With visible eagerness she had already 
 rung for a servant. 
 
 " And I should like to know," interposed the 
 terrible mother, " what you expect the rest of 
 your guests to do ? " 
 
 " Why, play too, or talk, or whatever they 
 like." The servant appeared at Mrs. Robertson's 
 broad red elbow. " Cards, Jones, and a table." 
 
 " Well, I prefer to go to bed. And I think 
 it's high time lights were out and you saved
 
 December. 179 
 
 on your gas-bill or electricity-bill, which is even 
 more expensive." The old woman gathered up 
 her long skirts, a lump in each hand, displaying 
 a coarse black petticoat in a " V " at each side. 
 
 " Yes, mamma. Good-night, mamma." 
 
 Mrs. Robertson placed her arm about her 
 mother's waist and guided her very forcibly to- 
 wards the door. " Sleep well, mamma ! " said 
 she, suppressed anger giving a cutting irony to 
 her voice. " I don't think New York agrees with 
 you so well as Maine. The hours are too late." 
 
 " But I like the champagne, dear," snickering, 
 " and the good dinners Robertson pays for. Ah, 
 good-night, all ! " 
 
 A courtesy with the skirt drawn higher, till 
 the old creature looked for all the world like the 
 woman whose dog did not know her because her 
 skirts were " cut round about," a foolish chuckle, 
 and Mrs. Robertson's mother retired from view. 
 
 " What a humiliation ! " whispered Van Voort 
 to me. " And she has millions dozens of 
 them ! " 
 
 " And therefore must be tolerated," I retorted, 
 impulsively. He shrugged his shoulders as much 
 as to say that I was not worth an argument. The 
 next instant Mrs. Robertson touched his arm, 
 and he turned to the card-table, leaving me stand- 
 ing alone in the center of the room.
 
 180 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Mrs. Woodward ! Take this chair, won't 
 you?" 
 
 It was Percy Earle who had jumped up, and 
 although Lou looked at me in anything but an 
 inviting way, I gratefully dropped into the prof- 
 fered chair, because I had suffered one of those 
 ridiculous moments of embarrassment which 
 overwhelm a woman if she be unceremoniously 
 abandoned by her erstwhile companion in the 
 shape of a man. Mr. Van Voort has never failed 
 in making me feel that in his opinion I am of 
 absolutely no account in the universe. 
 
 " You don't intend to play, Mr. Earle ? " I 
 asked, struggling to conceal my annoyance. 
 
 Lou answered for him without removing the 
 cigarette from her lips. 
 
 " No, we prefer to talk. Oh, don't look fierce, 
 Dot ; we don't mind you. Do we, Percy ? " 
 
 The cigarette gave a thick, unrefined tone to 
 her voice ; did she not know it ? 
 
 " Mrs. Woodward is always a delightful addi- 
 tion; but she won't listen to compliments, you 
 know." 
 
 I scarcely heard him, as I was being rapidly 
 fascinated by the .group playing poker, and the 
 very unintelligibility of the expressions used riv- 
 eted my attention. Mrs. Robertson, Belle and 
 Van Voort sat with elbows upon the mahogany 
 table. Neddie Lawrence leaned back in his chair
 
 December. 181 
 
 and held his cards close to him. His teeth were 
 pressed into his lower lip. No one outside of 
 these four seemed inclined to play. Several of 
 the women guests lounged near the players, ap- 
 parently a good deal interested in the progression 
 of the game while not anxious to take a hand. 
 Now this is, as accurately as I could get 
 it, what I heard and saw : 
 
 Van Voort had dealt. Neddie Lawrence asked 
 to discard, did so, drew new cards, and then his 
 teeth had gone into his lips. The countenances 
 of the others were stonily unexpressive, but while 
 Mrs. Robertson kept her face immovable, she 
 could not control a heightened redness in her 
 cheeks, which might mean excitement, pleasura- 
 ble or otherwise. In the center of the table lay 
 some chips. 
 
 " Remember, the ante is one dollar/' warned 
 Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 " We're not in the habit of forgetting, are 
 we ? " returned Van Voort, tartly. I concluded 
 his hand did not please him. 
 
 Inadvertently, Mrs. Robertson glared at him 
 and sharply recovered herself. 
 
 " The limit," she continued, icily, " is five." 
 
 Then began a kind of Babel. 
 
 " I go in," said Belle St. John, cautiously. She 
 threw a chip into the center of the table. It 
 struck its relations which already graced the
 
 182 Dainty Devils. 
 
 board, quite musically, and slipped daintily into a 
 convenient little crevice. Neddie Lawrence, say- 
 ing nothing, deposited two bits of ivory. Some- 
 how his chips were not so graceful and self- 
 possessed as Belle's. They clattered nervously 
 into the pile, and slid off to its outer edge. Mrs. 
 Robertson's bushy eyebrows rose, graphically im- 
 plying that Neddie was rash. 
 
 " I see you, and raise a dollar," she said, her 
 eyes beginning to snap in spite of herself. Money 
 is money every time; it matters little from 
 whom it is won. More chips went into the pile. 
 
 " I make good and raise another dollar," cried 
 Van Voort, in royal good humor. Of course, 
 money is no object with him. 
 
 Three pairs of eyes were now fixed upon Belle 
 St. John. She did not consider more than 
 an instant, and yet, so eager was the attention 
 that Van Voort bluntly prompted, 
 
 " Hurry up, Belle It's your say." 
 
 " I go you one better," she said, distinctly. 
 " But keep your reminder for yourself, Van." 
 Was Belle losing her temper a bit? 
 
 " Come on, Lawrence," screamed Van Voort, 
 defiantly. " If Belle needs no prompting, you 
 do." 
 
 Neddie Lawrence, his eyes meaninglessly fixed 
 upon Belle, seemed like one waked from sleep. 
 
 ' ' See you," said he, shortly.
 
 December. 183 
 
 And the chips continued to multiply. 
 
 " Don't try a bluff game, Neddie," Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson exclaimed, half-angrily. " You'll only be 
 wild when you lose." 
 
 " Not at all," Lawrence answered, beginning 
 to flush nervously. He sat beneath an unshaded 
 incandescent light, and the glow spreading over 
 his face was a relief : for he had looked like a 
 corpse in his pallor. 
 
 " Everyone can't have good hands at once," 
 pursued Mrs. Robertson, her self-control conspic- 
 uous by its absence. 
 
 Van Voort banged his fist down upon the 
 table. I said, " Oh ! " and, mortified at the in- 
 voluntary exclamation, hastily covered my mouth 
 with my handkerchief, as people so frequently 
 do when the spoken word has done the mischief 
 no number of handkerchiefs can undo. 
 
 " That's not fair, Mrs. Rob," said Van Voort, 
 his squeal lost in a queer gruffness ; " quit talk- 
 ing across the board, I say ! " 
 
 " It's your say, Mrs. Rob," hastily interposed 
 Belle St. John. " For pity's sake don't begin to 
 fight." This rather proved that Belle was judg- 
 ing the others by her own irritability. 
 
 Mrs. Robertson began running her fingers 
 through her ugly curly hair hair which cannot 
 fail to impress one as being hopelessly common 
 and unaristocratic and but a poor background
 
 184 Dainty Devils. 
 
 for her gorgeous diamond tiara. She was wild 
 to win, and struggling not to call the game be- 
 fore more betting had been accomplished. 
 
 " I see you," she said, excitedly, to Lawrence, 
 " and go you the limit better." 
 
 Belle St. John, catching her breath, leaned ex- 
 pectantly toward Van Voort. 
 
 " The devil ! " said he, shrilly. " I pass out." 
 
 Mrs. Robertson openly smiled. Belle glanced 
 down at her own cards and looked anxious. The 
 " say " was hers again ; she had lost confidence 
 in her hand, and was in doubt what she should 
 do. 
 
 " Well ? Lost your spunk ? " asked Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 " No," drawled Belle, " I see you." 
 
 Mrs. Robertson was astonished and pleased ; 
 she pulled Neddie Lawrence's sleeve. He, mov- 
 ing suddenly, drew his chair across a bit of 
 Belle's long train and tore a dreadful rent in 
 the spangled net. Belle glanced at the damage, 
 frowned a trifle, and drew her draperies within 
 more limited space. Neddie Lawrence was un- 
 conscious of the accident. 
 
 " I," said he, in what must have been a mo- 
 ment of desperate insanity, " see you too I 
 I'm not afraid." 
 
 " Well," Mrs. Robertson said, rising and toss- 
 ing a handful of chips into the goodly pile," I
 
 December. 185 
 
 make good and call you, Neddie." She threw 
 down her cards and laughed confidently. 
 
 Lawrence turned blue-white ; he drew his chair 
 forward and the cards he held dropped list- 
 lessly upon the table. Belle and Van Voort 
 stooped eagerly over the two hands of cards, at 
 the same time laying down their own. 
 
 " Golly ! " ejaculated Belle St. John. " You 
 swipe the pile, Mrs. Rob ! See here, Mr. Law- 
 rence, a full house ! And the next best is my 
 two pair ! What the dickens did you bet on, any- 
 way ? " This to the boy who had lost so badly. 
 
 Neddie Lawrence made a silly attempt at a 
 laugh. It was only too sadly plain how far the 
 wine had muddled him. 
 
 " Come, deal again ! " said Mrs. Robertson, 
 abruptly. " Give him a chance to win it back. 
 No don't pay now ; Van Voort keeps the score 
 and we settle when we break up." 
 
 " Yes," volunteered Van Voort, " when we 
 break up broke." 
 
 " I think I'd better go. I must be at the 
 bank early in the morning." 
 
 Lawrence was a pitiable object standing there 
 before his unprincipled hostess. She was old 
 enough to be his mother, and she knew the boy 
 was half-intoxicated ; these facts did not prevent 
 her from gloating over all she could win from 
 him. She patted Neddie's arm in a manner at
 
 1 86 Dainty Devils. 
 
 once impatient and re-assuring, but before she 
 could speak, Belle teasingly interrupted. 
 
 " To blow up a vault ? No need. Play again, 
 Mr. Lawrence. First losers, last winners, you 
 know." 
 
 The sound of the men coming from the dining- 
 room precipitated Neddie Lawrence back into his 
 seat. Mrs. Robertson had begun to deal. This 
 time he did not change any of his cards, while 
 Belle and Van Voort clamored loudly against 
 their luck, insisted upon having the grain of the 
 table, and discarded almost all of their original 
 hands. 
 
 Jack's face and Mr. Robertson's were very di- 
 verting. Jack looked surprised, then infinitesi- 
 mally shrugged his shoulders, and came over 
 to sit next me. Mr. Allison, inscrutable before 
 poker as everything else, took a chair near Belle 
 St. John. 
 
 " Shan't we go ? " Jack asked, considerable 
 meaning in the tone. 
 
 Mr. Robertson had whispered something to 
 his wife, eliciting the reply, " It's Monday, Alex- 
 ander, and people may go to the deuce with their 
 scruples ! " Then he came, a distracted look in 
 his eyes, to Jack. 
 
 " Could you, Woodward, just for fifteen 
 minutes, discuss Northern Pacific with me? If 
 Mrs. Woodward won't mind ? "
 
 December. 187 
 
 An eager interest in the gambling had taken 
 possession of me. I was ready to cry for Neddie 
 Lawrence, and wanted to see what his fate would 
 be. To leave would have been a penitential duty. 
 And it was not mere curiosity, nor gambling- 
 mania either I was painfully concerned for the 
 country-boy, who from present appearances 
 seemed likely to prove a weakling under tempta- 
 tion. 
 
 " I don't mind, Jack. Really, I'm no longer 
 sleepy." 
 
 " Very well, Robertson." 
 
 Stocks are Mr. Robertson's solace and salva- 
 tion. For him they are substitutes for a wife's 
 love, children and a happy home. The develop- 
 ment of a new syndicate takes the place of the 
 arrival of a new baby ; a panic is the represen- 
 tative agony of a child's mortal illness; prophe- 
 cies verified, given advice successfully followed, 
 are the tender consolations a wife might rea- 
 sonably be expected to supply; margins and 
 " shorts " are not altogether unpleasant anxieties 
 which might rank with the misgivings of a par- 
 ent as to his son's vices at college. Wall Street 
 makes up for this man a life which otherwise 
 would be blank and empty. 
 
 As Jack consented to linger a while longer, an 
 odd expression of relief suffused Mr. Robertson's
 
 1 88 Dainty Devils. 
 
 troubled features. He took Jack's elbow, and 
 they went out of sight and hearing. 
 
 Except for those at the poker game, Lou, Alli- 
 son and Percy, the guests were leaving the 
 women yawningly tired, and the men in a bus- 
 iness-like hurry to be off, now that eating and 
 drinking were at an end. How frank men are 
 in their preferences ! 
 
 Women are the safeguards of social politeness 
 and conventionality. Without much effort and 
 with only decent self-respect, they might be 
 guardians of social honesty and cleanliness. 
 
 " How you watch them, Dot. You'll soon be 
 a player yourself." 
 
 I started at Lou's voice. Mrs. Robertson had 
 been most brief and pre-occupied as she bade 
 her guests good-night, and was now back at the 
 game, which absorbed her utterly. Over and 
 over cards were dealt, chips fell or were gath- 
 ered in, the peculiar language was excitedly em- 
 ployed, arguments arose, voices waxed loud and 
 even impolite, and once Van Voort saying, 
 " Damn it ! " when Belle St. John showed a 
 " straight flush," made no apology. I closed my 
 eyes curiously. Yes, it was true that conscious 
 only of the speech, no human mind would ever 
 have fitted it into such surroundings and among 
 such people. Belle's frail white arms and hands 
 and baby-face seemed especially out of place.
 
 December. 189 
 
 Her words belonged to the coarse lips and ques- 
 tionable society of a bar-room. Lolling in a pal- 
 ace she talked like a cow-boy! 
 
 Neddie Lawrence lost on every deal. He was 
 no longer pale, but the color of his face was 
 worse than pallor. Finally, sobered through 
 fright, his young figure tense with excitement, 
 he determinedly rose. 
 
 " I must stop now. Truly I haven't 
 enough money with me to cover my indebted- 
 ness." 
 
 " You may use my check-book/' said Mrs. 
 Robertson, promptly. "I bank at the Falconers', 
 too." 
 
 He hesitated, and just then Percy Earle, his 
 lips barely separated, spoke in a low tone to 
 Lou Allison. She immediately and unquestion- 
 ingly rose. If only Allison were more masterful ! 
 
 " Come, Belle, I'm going home and there's 
 only one carriage." 
 
 " Wait a minute I raise you. Oh, the deuce ! 
 You see me, do you ? When this hand is finished, 
 Lou." Belle was hoping to win again, and was 
 quivering with excitement as she scanned her 
 cards. 
 
 She lost, and more than canceled her former 
 winnings. With commendable effort to conceal 
 her disappointment, she smilingly left the table. 
 Van Voort was settling up the account.
 
 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " If if Mrs. Robertson will accommodate me 
 with a blank, I shall write a check for the 
 amount," I heard Neddie Lawrence say. He 
 seemed to have grown thinner. 
 
 A dreadful pang shot through my heart. Was 
 it imagination or were Neddie's clothes shabby? 
 Brushed and pressed to a nicety, they were want- 
 ing in the opulent finish that distinguished the 
 other men's attire. Marion had told me he held 
 an insignificant position in the bank. What had 
 she said? Assistant to the discount clerk, or 
 something similar. And his people at home were 
 poor! Oh, foolish boy, to attempt to keep pace 
 with these reckless individuals who are going, 
 even for them, at break-neck speed ! A strange, 
 weary faintness came over me. Unobserved I 
 slipped out into the wide hall, where cool air, not 
 to say dangerous draughts, made the atmosphere 
 more comfortable. Wishing Jack would come, I 
 walked slowly up and down. The change of 
 atmosphere fairly struck at my bare neck and 
 arms, and I found myself growing uncom- 
 fortably chilly. In one corner, near the back of 
 the hall, was a sheltered seat on which I finally 
 settled myself, anxiously eying the stairs for 
 Jack's appearance. I had not been two minutes 
 in the protected corner, before Neddie Lawrence 
 and Percy Earle came out of the drawing-room
 
 December. 191 
 
 and paused within ten feet of me ; they could not 
 see me because of the palms. 
 
 " Don't be foolish, Lawrence ; it's only a hun- 
 dred, but it will help you out of this, and then 
 take my advice and quit." 
 
 Percy's earnest whisper was very distinct. I 
 was too surprised and too tired and sleepy to 
 speak, or to give the warning- cough, which 
 custom consecrates to such situations. 
 
 " I can't be such a cad, Percy. And honestly 
 I can get the money to-morrow." The voice 
 faltered, in the very assertion. 
 
 I could see Percy's face. It set itself very 
 sternly. 
 
 " Not without some disagreeable sacrifice, or 
 your face lies. You look ill and used-up, my boy. 
 You're worried. Take it, Lawrence, and return 
 it as soon as you can, for I'm not rich." 
 
 The money was thrust into Lawrence's hand, 
 at the instant that a servant appeared with two 
 raglans. I made myself as small as I could upon 
 the seat, and as the footman let the two men out, 
 slipped back to the drawing-room where Mrs. 
 Robertson and Lou Allison and her husband were 
 now alone. 
 
 "If you came last, you also stay last," said 
 Mrs. Robertson to me, intending to be agreeable, 
 I believe: for she was openly elated over her 
 winnings. I was conscience-stricken by the
 
 192 Dainty Devils. 
 
 knowledge that I had listened to a conversation 
 not meant for me, and meekly announced that 
 I should go for my wrap, and would she send 
 for Mr. Woodward? 
 
 At three o'clock I laid my buzzing head upon 
 the pillow. And I dreamed that I held a 
 " straight flush " whatever that may be and 
 won Percy Earle from Lou Allison ! 
 
 To-day I have been wondering whether Mrs. 
 La Grange knows of Neddie Lawrence's gam- 
 bling. She is responsible for him, and naturally 
 could not approve of his continuing to live at the 
 pace he has started. Well, I cannot tell her. 
 Although she does not make intimate friends 
 of them, she knows all the people who have taken 
 him up socially. I earnestly hope something 
 will happen to him before he grows much worse, 
 or Mrs. LaGrange may yet devoutly wish she had 
 left him in rural surroundings and to the dissi- 
 pation of hay-rides and church-fairs. Poor boy ! 
 He has fallen among thieves and he does not 
 know it. They wear velvet and diamonds and 
 broadcloth, but they are thieves, although garbed 
 in what custom dubs honest men's clothing. The 
 clothing of gentlemen, the raiment of fine 
 ladies Take them at the value of their goodly 
 apparel, their mansions, and servants and stocks 
 and bonds. But as for gentilesse honor ; the for- 
 mer is out of style, and the latter perverted,
 
 December. 193 
 
 among these people who claim to be the leaders of 
 society. They see no culpability in dragging 
 young men like Neddie Lawrence into worth- 
 less existence, and robbing them of the self- 
 respect and old-fashioned honesty they brought 
 from home. It is theft to take money from that 
 boy; for whatever he earns should go to his 
 parents. And it is theft upon his part to play 
 cards when the money he bets is not in his pos- 
 session. 
 
 Percy did a generous act ; I am not sure it 
 was a wise one. I wish I felt it would be right 
 to tell Marion. Upon second thought what 
 would be the sense? She adores him already, 
 and to add one more decoration to his beautiful 
 perfections would merely set her heart throbbing 
 more wildly when he is named. It would be 
 kinder in Marion's case, to discover something 
 despicable of Percy and disclose it to her. 
 
 Would she turn against him then? Oh dear, 
 no! She does not even despise him for being 
 infatuated with Lou Allison. She cannot, 
 because she loves him ; and, superior and incom- 
 parable and extraordinary as she is, Marion is 
 but a girl in love, and that is all which means 
 faithful and worshipping in a woman's unreason- 
 ing way. 
 
 Jack does not criticise people as a rule; nor 
 
 13
 
 194 Dainty Devils. 
 
 does he gossip. This was his only remark about 
 Robertsons' supper : 
 
 " I'm glad, Dot, Mrs. Robertson's mother did 
 not astonish you any more than your face re- 
 vealed." 
 
 Is there reproof in that sentence ? 
 
 ******* 
 
 I have no idea how many teas I have attended 
 this month. They have been of all sorts and de- 
 scriptions, from the extravagant entertainment 
 with music and vaudeville performance, to the 
 tea-and-sandwich in an apartment, where the 
 hostess is tired and nervous long before the 
 guests begin to arrive and goes through the 
 hours " From four till seven", in a cruel tor- 
 ture of dread lest the general house-worker got- 
 ten up in cap and bibbed-apron and turned loose 
 in the dressing-room as a " maid", may make 
 some startling break before the last callers have 
 departed. I have the most acute commiseration 
 for these hostesses of small means and smaller 
 apartments, who struggle through an affair of 
 this kind, impelled by some unnamed force which 
 urges every woman to " do something " during 
 a New York season. It always appears to ma 
 that the sandwiches as a rule very delicious and 
 much superior to those furnished by fashionable 
 caterers have succeeded in getting all the 
 woman's nerves chopped into them, and she
 
 December. 195 
 
 stands a wreck in her own home, courageously 
 smiling, while in the raging storm of anxiety 
 engulfing her, the single buoy she can cling to 
 is the reflection produced by those same won- 
 drous, spicy, succulent sandwiches made by her 
 own hands, " The things will surely taste good." 
 When the perfunctory smile vanishes, I cannot 
 help believing that the weary hostess has been 
 assailed by the torturing specter which occa- 
 sionally appalled Lame Ann if the griddle-cakes 
 were good and Uncle Dalton came to tea with 
 father: "I wonder whether I made enough!" 
 There does not seem to be any mortification quite 
 so painful as not having sufficient food to go 
 around. Even the great Apostle went in trepida- 
 tion to the Master, when the multitude were many 
 and the loaves and fishes few. 
 
 It was not at one of these heroic, pathetic, 
 limited entertainments, nor yet at a colossally 
 large and elaborate " Tea," that Belle St. John 
 gave us such a fright, and I, excited beyond 
 myself and manners, got into trouble with Mrs. 
 Robertson. The house is one of the most fash- 
 ionable in New York, and yet maintains some 
 vestige of old-time simplicity and lack of 
 ostentation. I went expecting an agreeable time ; 
 I was most wofully disappointed. 
 
 Jack taboos teas of all varieties including the 
 beverage itself; therefore I never have his com-
 
 196 Dainty Devils. 
 
 pany at such functions. I shall never forget the 
 first tea which I attended, where the woman 
 giving the tea was the only one I knew. I in- 
 nocently went by myself, fancying that the hostess 
 would soon make me acquainted with lots of 
 people. Vain thought of trusting ignorance ! 
 She said : " So glad to see you !" turned to the 
 next caller, and I stood stranded in solitary 
 misery upon the parquette floor. - , 
 
 I walked to the dining-room, where the two 
 girls pouring tea and chocolate never so much 
 as looked at me, and half-a-dozen women stared 
 as though I had no right to be there. One 
 woman put up a lorgnette and asked her com- 
 panion, very distinctly, " Who is the small per- 
 son?" A waiter handed me an ice. Could any 
 one eat it while a lot of women watched every 
 spoonful ? Two spoonsfuls were enough for me. 
 I thrust the plate into the hand of the first man 
 who came along, and fled through a door open- 
 ing into the hall. There I tripped over the cor- 
 ner of a rug which skated perilously upon the 
 slippery waxed floor, and fell prone. Oh, the 
 humiliation of it ! A servant helped me up, and 
 protesting I was not hurt, I went blind and dizzy 
 to the carriage. 
 
 Pride prevented my rehearsing this episode to 
 Jack. I even worried a couple of weeks for fear 
 some kind, observing acquaintance had witnessed
 
 December. 197 
 
 my mishap, and would courteously inquire 
 whether Mrs. Woodward hurt herself the day 
 she tumbled down at the Jacksons' tea. It was 
 like carrying a sin upon my conscience. 
 
 That first experience seems years ago, and I 
 never again went anywhere alone unless I could be 
 certain of meeting people I knew. It was in the 
 most happily anticipative frame of mind that I 
 started out yesterday for the tea where at least 
 the hostess and her assistants would be delight- 
 ful, even if all the guests were not particularly 
 agreeable. I found the house swarming with 
 humanity, as this woman, with her simple menus 
 and decorations, still " draws " a hundred times 
 better than most of the aspiring strugglers who, 
 by dazzling one's senses of sight, taste and hear- 
 ing, hope to evolve an applauding recognition 
 of the pinnacle attained. How beautifully some 
 social climbers succeed ! 
 
 Marion LaGrange poured the tea. She was 
 entrancing in a pale yellow gown, at a table where 
 everything was green, white or silver. 
 
 " Stay near me, won't you ?" she asked, smiling 
 up at me. 
 
 " Gladly, only I am in the way. Others also 
 want tea. And the men want to look at you." 
 
 " They do not interest me " she said. Percy 
 Earle being invisible, I knew she spoke the truth. 
 
 Addie Layton and her husband pressed for-
 
 1 98 Dainty Devils. 
 
 ward out of the crowd toward Marion. Of 
 course, Addie was ahead in the pushing. 
 
 " I'd like some tea provided it's really hot/' 
 said she, as peevish and pouting as her teething 
 baby at home. 
 
 Marion pointed amiably to the flame of the 
 alcohol-lamp. Mrs. Layton jerked her classic 
 head in a very ugly manner. 
 
 " That doesn't do any good, if you've just 
 poured in cold water. I am not a mind-curist." 
 
 Truly, Mrs. Layton could not be anything 
 whatever that would require mind to any appre- 
 ciable extent. 
 
 I hastily slipped off. Mrs. Layton provokes 
 me to say sharp things rather sharper than her 
 own. It would not do to risk an encounter with 
 her. Jack says I must learn to be discreet. 
 
 " Hello ! You here ? " My aimless wandering 
 about was speedily cut short. It was Belle St. 
 John who greeted me, her cheeks very hectic, 
 her hat a trifle crooked. She had caught me by 
 the arm. 
 
 " Come sit down, Dot, won't you? I'm terri- 
 bly giddy to-day, and the commotion and crowd 
 confuse me." 
 
 Shocked at her appearance, I followed Belle 
 into the music-room, deserted at the moment 
 in favor of the superior attraction of tea and 
 sweets and pretty girls in the dining-room.
 
 December. 199 
 
 Side-by-side we sat down on a divan, Belle turn- 
 ing to me with a peculiar gesture of impatient 
 suffering. I had had no private conversation 
 with her since the day she pawned her ring, and 
 a certain severity lingered in my feelings towards 
 her. 
 
 " Do I look strange ?" Belle asked, pushing 
 back her hat. Perspiration stood in drops upon 
 her forehead, and the hair trailing across it 
 showed dark with moisture. She breathed 
 quickly and audibly, like one terribly excited or 
 awfully ill. 
 
 " Belle," I said, earnestly, " what have you 
 been doing?" 
 
 " Nothing, I give you my word. I know you 
 mean what have I been drinking? My dear, 
 these people don't even serve punch, as you know. 
 Gad! I wish I had some!" 
 
 " I think, Belle, you ought to go home ; you 
 look unnatural. What makes you tremble so? 
 Are you cold or what ? " 
 
 " Oh, Dot, I don't know ! I never felt like 
 this in all my life before. Is my hat on straight ?" 
 She struggled with trembling hands at her hat, 
 and the disordered hair about her forehead. 
 " Dot !" in a desp'erate voice, "Get me home, can't 
 you? Oh, dear! What will people think? I'm 
 sure I look hideous. But I can't help it No, 
 I can't stand up. Oh ! "
 
 200 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Belle gasped, leaned forward, clutched my 
 gown, turned ghastly pale, and then my heart 
 fairly stood still at the gurgling sound which 
 came from her throat. In another instant a 
 warm red stream poured over her white satin 
 waist. It was the most dreadful thing I had 
 ever witnessed, and as I caught the woman, faint- 
 ing from fright at the sight of blood, I gave a 
 short, stupid scream. An alarm of fire could 
 not have been more tempestuously received. Peo- 
 ple ran in from the drawing-room, the dining- 
 room, the hall. Everyone exclaimed at the sight 
 of Belle, and most of them, having rushed in 
 through fright and curiosity, rushed out through 
 pitiful horror and dread that Belle was dying. 
 
 " Help me," I said, as I knelt supporting Belle's 
 weight against my shoulder. " She has fainted. 
 Can't you see ? " 
 
 A woman laughed hysterically, another wailed ; 
 
 " Oh, let me out ! I never could bear the 
 sight of blood/" 
 
 " What is it ? Let me pass !" 
 
 Oh, how blessed is man at times ! Over the 
 frantic heads of panic-stricken women, I caught 
 sight of Percy Earle's head and shoulders. I 
 was ready to collapse, when his voice reanimated 
 me. 
 
 " Percy !" I cried, never knowing till Mrs. 
 Robertson sneeringly told me of the fact, that I
 
 December. 201 
 
 had not said, " Mr. Earle." " Quick ! I can't 
 hold her much longer." 
 
 Would anyone believe it? Along some lines, 
 the evolutions of civilization leave much to be 
 desired. Greater intellect, a higher nervous 
 development, smaller hands and feet, are now the 
 endowment of the average woman of education, 
 compared with her sisters of the savage tribes. 
 What a wretched pity that the improvement and 
 betterment do not extend to the heart! Quite 
 on a par with the femininity that pokes spikes 
 into Indian prisoners, and tears off their finger- 
 nails, are women like Mrs. Robertson, whom, 
 as Percy lifted Belle and laid her upon the divan, 
 I distinctly heard say : 
 
 " How much more interesting had it been Lou 
 Allison !" 
 
 I tottered to my feet, Percy assisting me. 
 
 " Here is Dr. Stanton," said a sweet voice we 
 all knew. " He was just leaving." 
 
 It was Marion who had brought him, while the 
 rest exclaimed and had faints and hysterics. The 
 stately old physician bent over Belle, and she 
 murmured something weakly. Percy had turned 
 to Marion. 
 
 " You are an exceptional girl, Marion," he said, 
 heartily, " to have kept your wits and brought 
 the doctor." 
 
 " I knew he was here, for he had been talking
 
 2O2 Dainty Devils. 
 
 with me," she said, simply. " Oh, here is Mrs. 
 Blashfield, and I think all the rest of us should 
 
 go." 
 
 Mrs. Blashfield, the hostess, who had been en- 
 tertaining a couple of elderly clerics in the library 
 on the other side of the house, had only that 
 moment heard of Belle's hemorrhage. She came 
 in very anxious, but composed and helpful and 
 motherly. Dr. Stanton ordered us out of the 
 room, with the exception of Mrs. Blashfield. I 
 went silently with the others, although I meant 
 to remain in the house until Lou Allison should 
 arrive. In the hall I staggered. Marion put 
 her arm about me and told Percy to bring some 
 wine. 
 
 " I believe you are right. Mrs. Woodward 
 needs it." 
 
 People were leaving rather hastily in most 
 instances while a few lingered, whispering, in 
 twos and threes. Mrs. Robertson followed 
 Marion and me into the library. 
 
 " I always thought Belle St. John was con- 
 sumptive," she said, aggressively, " and now 
 there's proof of it." 
 
 I was choking with anger over the remark 
 she had made when Percy Earle came to Belle's 
 assistance, so I refrained from answering. 
 Marion replied in her gentle manner. 
 
 " This could not be considered proof, Mrs. 
 Robertson."
 
 December. 203 
 
 " Oh, you know better than I do, do you ? 
 Well, we shall see. No woman could stand the 
 life Belle leads, for long." 
 
 Percy and a waiter with some wine were com- 
 ing. I spoke hurriedly and in anger : 
 
 " Most of her life is spent in your company." 
 
 " If Belle asserts that," purpling apoplecti- 
 cally, " she very much exaggerates. Allow me to 
 remark that I never found anyone who didn't 
 bore me at the end of two hours." 
 
 " Except when you gamble." 
 
 Mrs. Robertson drew herself up and towered 
 wrathfully above my figure, while mortification 
 for my rudeness seemed to cause me to dwindle 
 into downright insignificance. 
 
 " The spy is a strange role for a lady to as- 
 sume," she hissed, clenching her hands. 
 
 " I sincerely apologize for my remark ; and I 
 expect an apology for your last." My cheeks 
 burned and the tears came to my eyes. Lame 
 Ann always said I had a bad temper. 
 
 Percy touched my elbow. 
 
 " You don't look now as if you needed the wine, 
 Mrs. Woodward," he said, a good deal of sur- 
 prise in his face. 
 
 " No She has her full allotment of nerve," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Robertson, and with that sailed 
 out of the room. 
 
 " Leave the tray here," Percy told the servant.
 
 2O4 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " You're right, Mr. Earle, I don't need the 
 wine. I lost my temper, that's all." 
 
 What would father have said? It is not true 
 that a lady never forgets herself. She does, if 
 the provocation be greater than her power of 
 self-control. I am more quick-tempered than 
 most people, and no amount of ladyhood would 
 keep me impassive when my feelings are in a 
 wild ferment. 
 
 Simply Mrs. Robertson asleep would irritate 
 me; and Mrs. Robertson awake, aroused, bellig- 
 erent, almost brings on hydrophobia. If I were 
 a washer-woman, I should pound her with my 
 fists. Being Mrs. J. Worthington Woodward, 
 nee Gretchen von Waldeck,- pugilism does not 
 claim me, but a biting tongue does. Oh, woe! 
 Is this one more proof that the feminine tongue 
 is the last member to come under the beneficent 
 influence of civilizing education ? My arms hang 
 limply, decorously, when I am angered; my 
 tongue is still the savage, and it strikes ! 
 
 Percy, chuckled at my acknowledgment of loss 
 of temper. 
 
 " The other one seems to have done the same." 
 He was laughing a little. " I'm sorry you've 
 had to go through so much." 
 
 Painfully near a crying-spell, I kept the tears 
 from falling by refusing to blink. As a child, I 
 had always found this a first-rate plan.
 
 December. 205 
 
 " Belle is better/' Percy continued, tactfully 
 changing the subject. " But Dr. Stanton says she 
 can't be moved for forty-eight hours." 
 
 In spite of my effort, I blinked, and two big 
 tears ran over. Fumbling for my handkerchief, 
 I reflected helplessly that it was in my card-case, 
 which I had dropped somewhere after Belle 
 fainted. Percy Earle divined my dilemma, and 
 gravely produced a nice fresh silk one, heavily 
 embroidered in the corner no doubt by Lou 
 Allison's fingers. I hastily dried the two big 
 drops, and giving the handkerchief back to Percy, 
 recovered my voice and dignity. 
 
 " It is too bad the hemorrhage happened away 
 from home," I said, smothering a sniffle, " and 
 very hard upon Mrs. Blashfield." 
 
 Percy Earle sighed absently. 
 
 " Quite natural that it did," he returned, in a 
 low tone, " as Belle rarely stays at home, poor 
 girl!" 
 
 " If it had occurred in the street ! " I shud- 
 dered, that miserable morbidness that taints 
 humanity, suddenly dominating me and evoking 
 the vivid picture of an " It-might-have-been- 
 worse !" 
 
 Percy Earle glanced at me in quick surprise. 
 
 " There's no use of calling up painful possi- 
 bilities. Sit down, Mrs. Woodward. You've 
 lost all your color."
 
 206 Dainty Devils. 
 
 The recollection of the warm red stream which 
 poured over Belle's beautiful white blouse, over- 
 came my pride of being above a faint. The 
 room began to whirl ; I reached blindly for the 
 glass of wine, staring at Percy through an ap- 
 parent water-fall ; then from the depths of a 
 black cloud he spoke to me, but I was falling 
 down, down, and could not understand. 
 
 When I regained consciousness, I had for- 
 gotten all the events of the afternoon, and won- 
 dered why my hair was wet, and Marion La- 
 Grange knelt beside me with a dripping handker- 
 chief. 
 
 " What ails you, Marion ?" I asked. 
 
 " Nothing, dear. You fainted, that's all. Lou 
 Allison has come, and she'll stay with Belle. 
 Percy and I will take you home." 
 
 Marion shines brilliantly in trouble ; that is the 
 one reason why I sometimes succumb to a chok- 
 ing fear that joy is never to be her portion. The 
 moment others grow limp and helpless, Marion 
 is animated by heroic courage and the physical 
 endurance of a strong man. I believe if Belle 
 St. John had died, and all the people at the tea 
 had bolted, Marion would have quietly closed the 
 eyes of the dead, and then telephoned for the 
 undertaker. And the beauty of the whole is 
 that Marion would never have alluded to those 
 who decamped, nor have understood that she was
 
 December. 207 
 
 exceptional. Of course I did not think of all this 
 as I came out of the faint; I merely felt com- 
 forted by Marion's presence and her tender bath- 
 ing of my swimming head. Percy Earle was 
 standing back of her, and he stooped down to 
 put the glass of wine to my lips. I sat up and 
 drank the sherry gratefully. As I did so,Lou 
 Allison, deathly pale, with lips and hands trem- 
 bling, came in. She had taken off her hat, and 
 a maid's apron, stained with blood, hung over 
 her frivolous-looking embroidered chiffon skirt. 
 She went directly to Percy, and taking hold of 
 his hand, spoke with blue lips : 
 
 " Dr. Stanton has to leave now, and I need you, 
 Percy. There is no other man to depend upon." 
 
 I stood up and tried to smooth my hair. Lou 
 stared as she recognized me. 
 
 " Oh, Dot ! You were with Belle, weren't you ? 
 Didn't you think she was dying ? I am so fright- 
 ened ! She never had one before." Lou was in- 
 deed greatly discomposed. I went and kissed 
 her impulsively, for I know she dearly loves her 
 sister. She clung to me for a moment, as chil- 
 dren do in the dark. 
 
 " If it should be death !" she whispered. " I 
 never could stand anything about death." Her 
 lips quivered piteously, and looking up at her, 
 I had a sensation of physical chilliness. Cold 
 death, lonely death, the mysterious change each
 
 208 Dainty Devils. 
 
 must undergo as a solitary personality ; no warm 
 handgrip, no hot tears of sympathy, no earthly 
 voice to help its awfulness gripped at Lou's 
 pleasure-loving heart and crushed it into an in- 
 significant, suffering atom, rebelling at its in- 
 exorable, irremediable fate. I have heard Uncle 
 Dalton preach several times every year upon 
 death, and I always believed that for me dissolu- 
 tion held no terrors. It was with an odd dis- 
 appointment I realized that Lou's despairing 
 mood had infected me. Mutely I turned to 
 Marion, no syllable of comfort coming to my lips. 
 
 " It's not death," she said, soothingly, that im- 
 personal elation lurking in her eyes, " Come, Dot, 
 I've a maid waiting in the hall with our wraps. 
 Your carriage is the only one left, and I am go- 
 ing to take you home." 
 
 " I can do that," interposed Percy Earle, " and 
 return immediately." 
 
 Lou turned to him, angrily. 
 
 " You won't leave me at such a time ? " she 
 said, the blood rushing back to her lips, and the 
 fear in her eyes giving place to reproachful com- 
 mand. 
 
 Percy met the look and answered it. 
 
 " If I am needed here, Mrs. Woodward will, 
 under the circumstances, excuse me," he said, in- 
 clining his head to me in that graceful, easy way
 
 December. 209 
 
 which the girls rave over as his " finished man- 
 ner." 
 
 " Certainly," I said, brought to it unwillingly. 
 A maid rushed through the hall and, knocking 
 as she entered, darted toward Lou. 
 
 " If you please, Mrs. St. John is crying and 
 wants you. The doctor left some time ago, and 
 Mrs. Blashfield's afraid the excitement of crying 
 will bring on another hemorrhage." The girl, 
 like most of her class, gloated over the impor- 
 tance of her lugubrious message. 
 
 " Oh, mercy !" exclaimed Lou, paling again. 
 " Come with me, Percy. I am frightened to 
 death ! " 
 
 Marion put on my wrap, 
 
 " Mercy Percy," I said, vaguely ; " they 
 rhyme, did you notice?" My eyes were fixed 
 upon the two figures I could see between the 
 portieres going up the wide stairs. " Oh, Lou 
 stumbled! And she's going now with Percy's 
 arm around " 
 
 Marion laid her hand over my mouth. She 
 was smiling caressingly but there was repression 
 in her fingers. 
 
 " It's time for us to go, Dot," she whispered, 
 a catch in her voice. She had turned her back 
 upon the staircase. 
 
 I snatched her hand down from my mouth and 
 squeezed it. I longed to say everything, and 
 
 14
 
 2io Dainty Devils. 
 
 something paralyzed my tongue into heart-sick 
 silence, as we gazed at each other in sorrowful 
 comprehension of our unspoken thoughts. 
 
 " Don't !" said Marion, at last. " I can't bear 
 pity, Dot." 
 
 That is the most she has ever acknowledged to 
 me. I sighed forlornly as I followed her out of 
 the house. It was as though I had seen Percy 
 Earle married to some other girl, or carried out 
 dead. Everything seemed over. Perhaps, I re- 
 flected, Belle was going to die, and this was a pre- 
 monition. Lame Ann always had one accord- 
 ing to her own assertion invariably made the day 
 after the occurrence before every event in Gray- 
 town important enough to warrant the interven- 
 tion of unseen powers. Father diagnosed the 
 " premonition " as " violent indigestion", but I 
 never have indigestion. 
 
 On the steps under the awning, a short man 
 was leisurely coming up. 
 
 " Why !" he exclaimed, stopping in front of 
 us. " Is it all over, that you are leaving, 
 Marion ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Allison," I hastily answered, 
 courageously throwing my premonition over- 
 board. " She won't die. But Lou and Mr. Earle 
 are staying to help Mrs. Blashfield." 
 
 Mr. Allison stood staring at us. Marion under- 
 stood.
 
 December. 211 
 
 " The tea ended suddenly, Mr. Allison, because 
 Belle St. John became ill. She will have to re- 
 main here for two days. Lou is with her, and 
 Percy Earle stayed. Mrs. Woodward was with 
 Belle when the hemorrhage occurred, and she is 
 so shocked and tired that I am taking her home." 
 
 Mr. Allison gasped once, and when Marion 
 had finished he blinked two or three times. His 
 voice did not come immediately. 
 
 " It's strange and most unfortunate. Let me 
 put you into the carriage." Mr. Allison was 
 already himself. Quite as usual, he stepped in 
 front of the waiting footman, and made us com- 
 fortable, parting from us in his formal way. 
 Marion and I must have had the same thought. 
 
 " Mr. Allison was a little upset," she said, mus- 
 ingly. " I never before saw him so." 
 
 " Do you believe he could ever be rash or 
 impulsive?" 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure. I've often fancied, 
 Dot, that he hadn't any feelings whatever, and 
 yet, perhaps he's one of those still waters that 
 run deep. In short, don't ask me." 
 
 A thick fog was upon the city, and the electric 
 lights shone through a blur. Still there was 
 light enough for me to see Marion draw in her 
 lower lip and bite it, as if regretting her remark. 
 
 " You don't like Mr. Allison," I said, quickly. 
 
 The noises of the street and the mud spatter-
 
 212 Dainty Devils. 
 
 ing the windows were the only sounds till we 
 reached home. In the house, Marion spoke as 
 though answering my accusation. 
 
 " I think a man should be master." 
 
 " And that Mr. Allison" 
 
 Jack appeared upon the scene and I broke off. 
 " Hurry, girls. Dinner will be announced soon, 
 and I'm famishing." 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! Haven't you heard ?" 
 
 " Heard what, little one ?" 
 
 If Marion prefers emotion in others, while 
 aiming to be, against her nature, adamantine her- 
 self, Jack must have reached her ideal. He sug- 
 gested going to Blashfields' without the dinner 
 for lack of which he was perishing. 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! " I cried. " We'll have dinner 
 served at once, and Marion and I won't change 
 our gowns. Please, Jack." 
 
 He gave in, and we sat down three very sub- 
 dued individuals. Jack left us after the soup. 
 Marion and I remained at the table, nibbling bits 
 of bread and celery and thinking of the things 
 we generally make a point of forgetting; hor- 
 rible things, ghastly things, and such sternly true 
 things, which we mostly leave religiously alone 
 and undisturbed in the limited and sacred pre- 
 cincts of our Bibles and Prayerbooks. If they 
 were oftener taken out and used, familiarity 
 might blunt their sharpness, warm their chilli-
 
 December. 213 
 
 ness, even soften the undeniable awfulness about 
 the facts of life so uncertain; and death so 
 sure! 
 
 Had we been at home in Graytown, Lame Ann 
 would never have continued serving the dinner. 
 What is the use of making a pile of dishes to 
 wash, if nobody eats anything? Such procedure 
 is sinful extravagance of labor. 
 
 Both of us jumped when the door bell rang 
 " stuttered/' I always want to say ; it is a 
 much more appropriate word for the performance 
 of an electric button Which proves "how ner- 
 vous we were. Generally I never notice the bell. 
 
 Marion listened alertly, her lips parted, her 
 head turned toward the open door. It was not 
 the voice of a messenger-boy nor a servant. 
 
 " It's Mr. Allison," said she, sinking back into 
 her chair. Distinct disappointment was in her 
 face. She must have hoped it was Percy. 
 
 Mr. Allison came to the dining-room, and I 
 sprang up to meet him, almost afraid to ask how 
 Belle was. 
 
 " Belle is no worse," he said, taking the chair 
 the butler offered him, " but pitifully weak. May 
 I have some dinner, Mrs. Woodward ? " 
 
 " With pleasure. You look badly in need 
 of it. Give Mr. Allison wine at once, Burton." 
 
 " It is quite humiliating, Mrs. Woodward, still 
 I'm obliged to confess that I'm hungry, having
 
 214 Dainty Devils. 
 
 had nothing since breakfast. I tried to bring 
 Lou with me, but she refused to leave, although 
 the trained nurse has arrived. She promised to 
 take some dinner, with Mrs. Blashfield and Percy 
 Earle." 
 
 Not a trace of excitement was in Mr. Allison's 
 voice. Marion began to tear a celery-leaf into 
 bits. I wondered anxiously what I should do if 
 she lost her self-control. I have always heard 
 that when these startlingly self-possessed people 
 break down, the results are dangerous, especially 
 when the self-possession is like Marion's, ac- 
 quired, not inborn. 
 
 " Had Jack arrived when you left ?" 
 
 " Yes, and Belle was extremely glad to see 
 him." 
 
 I smiled comprehendingly. Who would not be 
 glad to see dear old Jack ? 
 
 Mr. Allison ate sparingly. I was grateful to 
 him for making short work of his dinner, because 
 the servants in the dining-room kept me upon a 
 strain, and the relief was delicious when we three 
 got into the library, and Mr. Allison gravely 
 closed the doors. His movements are always 
 oddly like an old maid's. 
 
 " I want to speak to you of something, Mrs. 
 Woodward. You don't object to the cigar? 
 Thank you. Sit here, Marion; there is always 
 draught from the window in that corner."
 
 December. 215 
 
 I laughed nervously, watching Marion solemnly 
 obey. Once more Mr. Allison's grave fatherli- 
 ness impressed me. Glancing at his face, its 
 set whiteness angered me the next instant. 
 
 " What is the trouble, Mr. Allison ? Your 
 manner freezes my blood. Can't you oh, dear ! 
 can't you get excited?" 
 
 An odd expression flitted across his plain face. 
 I looked from him to Marion, and saw her start. 
 
 " I found out long ago, that it's better not to 
 be demonstrative." 
 
 " That's all well enough. Only you can't 
 make me believe you're quite as calm within." 
 I was extremely irritated. 
 
 Mr. Allison seemed lost in the enjoyment of 
 his cigar, and I knew that my voice, more than 
 my words, had been very impertinent. The 
 thought quickened my resentment. Marion 
 moved uneasily. 
 
 " I've a dreadful headache," she said, rising 
 abruptly. " If I should be needed for anything, 
 will you send for me, Dot? I should like to lie 
 down." 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, Marion glided 
 to the door, which Mr. Allison opened for her. 
 
 " She is a very intelligent girl," he said, drop- 
 ping into his chair again. " And I would indeed 
 rather have our conversation alone, Mrs. Wood- 
 ward."
 
 216 Dainty Devils. 
 
 "Yes?" My heart beat wildly. Was Belle 
 dead, and had he been keeping the truth from us ? 
 
 " You know, Mrs. Woodward, that Belle has a 
 husband which sort doesn't matter. He is still 
 her husband." 
 
 " Yes," I repeated, this time affirmatively, al- 
 though surprised at the turn Mr. Allison's words 
 had taken. 
 
 He laid his cigar in the ash-receiver. 
 
 " There is every probability I speak confiden- 
 tially that Belle has tuberculosis, and the quick- 
 est kind." 
 
 I gripped the arms of my chair ; that sickening 
 faintness was overpowering me again. As long 
 as I live, I shall never forget Belle in that hem- 
 orrhage. Through a gathering dimness, I saw 
 Allison rise hastily. The next moment his voice, 
 coldly courteous, angered me into full conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; let us change the sub- 
 ject, Mrs. Woodward. Shall I call Marion?" 
 
 " No ! " I fairly screamed. " Go on ! Only 
 don't expect me to be like you or Marion." 
 
 "That's better," encouragingly; "I've often 
 found that a little temper is salutary. It's only 
 the mighty ones that are deplorable. Mrs. 
 Woodward, you don't know all the circumstances, 
 you are a good deal younger than any of us, and 
 can dare much more. If Dr. Stanton will per-
 
 December. 217 
 
 mit it, and Jack doesn't object, will you go to 
 Belle in the morning, and ask her to send for St. 
 John?" 
 
 Speechless I stared at Mr. Allison. Not a 
 muscle in his face showed a trace of expression, 
 not an inflection of his voice betrayed any particu- 
 lar interest in what he was saying. Only his 
 eyes, small, indefinitely grey, blue, green, squint- 
 ing a bit under spectacles, gleamed as I had 
 never dreamed they could. 
 
 " I ask it for both of them," he continued, after 
 a moment. " It would be so much better if he 
 were with Belle the few months she may live." 
 
 " Why don't you send for him, and say nothing 
 until he has arrived ?" 
 
 " You poor child ! I beg your pardon, Mrs. 
 Woodward. St. John took an oath never to re- 
 turn unless Belle herself sent for him." 
 
 " She is ill. You could say that," I said, in a 
 low voice. " How can he know she is able to 
 write ?" 
 
 The next moment I felt myself the meanest, 
 smallest thing in all creation. Mr. Allison 
 turned his gaze from my face and said slowly : 
 
 " I abominate falsehood ; active, passive or im- 
 plied." 
 
 I blushed vividly: no one had ever accused 
 me of being a liar. 
 
 " And I assure you, besides, that St. John
 
 218 Dainty Devils. 
 
 would suffer torture unto death before he would 
 break that unfortunate oath. You don't know 
 him, Mrs. Woodward." 
 
 " If he is so awful, will it be wise to bring him 
 to Belle?" 
 
 For the second time I wilted under Mr. Alli- 
 son's words. 
 
 " She married him for better or worse, didn't 
 she? She is in honor bound to keep her vows 
 until death releases her from them. And St. 
 John is by no means all bad." 
 
 "But how shall I ask her?" 
 
 " Leave that to the inspiration of the moment. 
 I'm sure you can do it, and you're the only one." 
 
 There was a knock at the door; at the same 
 instant it opened. Both Mr. Allison and I were 
 startled. Crosson asked lamely whether he 
 should not turn off the steam-heat ? I recollected 
 him and a tea-tray the day Percy Earle was here, 
 and answered with considerable annoyance that 
 the steam-heat was all right. Mentally I noted 
 that Blackwell should discharge him as soon as 
 his month was up. I like servants noiseless to 
 a reasonable degree about the house. Crosson's 
 noiselessness verges upon that of the uncanny 
 or the sneak. 
 
 " I'll attend to the matter, Mr. Allison," I said, 
 in an exaggeratedly business-like tone, intended
 
 December. 219 
 
 for Crosson's enlightenment. " Will to-morrow 
 be the best time ? " 
 
 " I fancy so. Believe me, the matter is most 
 urgent." 
 
 Crosson having departed, I began eagerly : 
 
 " You don't expect me to tell Belle she's going 
 to die, do you ? I couldn't do it." 
 
 " It's odd nobody wants to do that, not even 
 the ministers. And yet we're all so sure of the 
 event sooner or later ! You can leave that out, 
 specifically : for after all, Belle may, with care, 
 improve. Just ask her in your own natural way 
 whether she would not like her husband here to 
 help nurse her Oh, anything that comes into 
 your head ! You'll surely succeed in suggesting 
 it some way or other." 
 
 " I don't know about that : Belle doesn't like 
 me." 
 
 " Who told you so ? I'm pretty sure she does." 
 
 " No, she couldn't : I've scolded her, and re- 
 fused to do her a favor. It was against my con- 
 science," I added, unguardedly, and, I believe un- 
 intentionally treacherous in my explanation. 
 
 Mr. Allison lit a fresh cigar. 
 
 " I'm glad you refused the favor," said he. 
 
 " Why ? You can't know what it was ! " I ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " There are some people who are unfortunately 
 very observing; they miss even trifles. Not a
 
 22O Dainty Devils. 
 
 pin or a ring escapes them." Mr. Allison nodded 
 at a small stick-pin I had in my stock, and not 
 for my life could I have said whether his choice 
 of " trifles " was accidental or deliberate. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Woodward, you are worn out, and 
 I beg you to retire. With your permission I'll 
 wait here for Jack. In the morning try to go to 
 Belle, won't you?" 
 
 " Yes. But won't you be bored, down here 
 alone?" 
 
 " No, I'll read. Good-night." 
 
 Mr. Allison went to the foot of the stairs with 
 me. I had a question upon my tongue which I 
 did not put to him. It was about his powers of 
 observing his wife and Percy Earle. 
 
 Whenever she came to visit me, Marion slept 
 in a small room next the boudoir ; I made this 
 arrangement so I could run in to see her at any 
 time, without going through the hall, my room 
 connecting with the boudoir on the other side. 
 To-night I went to Marion's room from the 
 stairs. She did not answer my knock. 
 
 " Marion ! Are you there? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; but go to bed, Dot." 
 
 Of course I went in at once. The lights were 
 out, but through the windows came the illumina- 
 tion of electric lights on the Avenue, and I could 
 see her sitting listlessly in the rocking-chair. 
 Her black hair was in a long braid drawn for-
 
 December. 221 
 
 ward over her shoulder, her feet were bare, and, 
 although the room was very chilly, she wore 
 nothing warmer than a night-dress. 
 
 " Marion, where are your slippers ? Are you 
 trying to make yourself ill? Get your Kimono 
 or jump into bed." 
 
 Marion pulled me down to her lap, wrapped 
 her arms around me and began to rock. 
 
 " Poor little Dot ! You must be desperately 
 tired, or you wouldn't be so cross. I'm terribly 
 healthy, and I never take cold. Don't worry !" 
 
 Marion pressed her cheek to mine and hold- 
 ing each other closely, we rocked for some time 
 in silence. 
 
 "Did Mr. Allison go?" she asked, at last. 
 
 " No ; he's waiting downstairs for Jack." 
 
 " How queer !" she exclaimed. 
 
 The next minute Marion burst into tempestu- 
 ous weeping with her head dropped into my neck. 
 
 I stood it for a few minutes. Then I went to 
 pieces, and we vied with each other in sobbing 
 and moaning. We were both in hysterics, al- 
 though I never would have conceded it possible 
 for me to be guilty of anything so foolish. The 
 first paroxysm over, we began to console our- 
 selves in the peculiar fashion of women. 
 
 " Jack's going to stay all night," I began, fear- 
 fully.
 
 222 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " She must be much worse," supplemented 
 Marion. 
 
 " It's odd Jack hasn't telephoned." I ended this 
 on a high broken note, and went off noisily again. 
 
 " Perhaps '' gulped Marion. 
 
 " Perhaps what ? Don't torture me." 
 
 " Perhaps Jack started and has met with " 
 Marion fairly whooped like a child with genuine 
 whooping-cough. I clutched her and finished 
 her sentence. 
 
 " An accident ? Don't Marion, don't ! O-o- 
 o-oh!" 
 
 " Dot," severely, " you have hysterics ! 
 Stop!" 
 
 " You stop first ! I never should have had 
 them if you hadn't begun. And I thought you 
 so ca-a-alm !" 
 
 " If you act like this now, Dot, what would 
 you do in real trouble? For instance, if Belle 
 died?" 
 
 " It's much worse to see some one have a hem- 
 orrhage than to see some one only dead." 
 
 " Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! " screamed Marion, laughing 
 wildly. " How can you say such awful things ! " 
 
 " I didn't say anything awful," indignalidy ; 
 " and your laughing when death is in the famiW 
 is wicked." 
 
 " The doctor said Belle wouldn't die." Marion
 
 December. 223 
 
 was beginning to come to herself. " Dot, haven't 
 we been talking nonsense ?" 
 
 " I don't know," I said wearily, fresh tears 
 coming. " Jack hasn't come home, and it's late, 
 and Belle is awfully sick " 
 
 " There, there ! Run down and telephone, 
 dear. And say Mr. Allison will start at 
 once to relieve Jack, so he can come home." 
 
 " You clever thing !" drying my eyes. " I'll 
 speak to Mr. Allison first, and get him off right 
 away." 
 
 Marion kissed me tremulously. 
 
 " Dot," she whispered, hesitatingly, " you 
 won't tell anybody I particularly mean Jack 
 how excitable I am, when when the reserve I 
 struggled for years to attain breaks down ? Will 
 you promise ? " 
 
 " You dear, beautiful simpleton, I'll never tell. 
 But why Jack specially ?" 
 
 " Oh !" a little embarrassed " Jack might tell 
 other people, you know." 
 
 " Who would be glad to hear it, I believe. Let 
 me go downstairs now ; I am really anxious about 
 Jack. And, dear, put your ice-cold feet in bed." 
 
 I was half-blind as I reached the hall, between 
 the change from the dimness of Marion's apart- 
 ment into the brilliant light, and my cried-out 
 eyes. I stumbled down the stairs, and went to 
 Mr. Allison in the library. He sprang out of his
 
 224 Dainty Devils. 
 
 chair at sight of me. I must have been a very 
 startling picture, with my red face and crazy 
 head. 
 
 " Mrs. Woodward ! Are you up yet? " 
 " Yes, I'm worried to death about Jack. 
 Won't you go to Blashfields' and stay there, so 
 Jack can come home? He didn't say he'd stay 
 all night, and I'm anxious." 
 
 " You are right," Mr. Allison said, slowly. 
 He put his book back into its place. His man- 
 ner was that of one plainly seeing a duty and 
 struggling against an aversion to it. I do not 
 believe that any amount of illness or death could 
 phase him. Strong as he is mentally, he 
 is certainly weak at that one point, not mental, 
 but of the heart, where Lou is concerned. For 
 an instant he appeared to brace himself It must 
 have been to meet Lou with Percy Earle. 
 
 " If you go there," I continued, " you'll have 
 Lou, and I'll have Jack." 
 " Ahem ! Yes You'll have Jack." 
 Mr. Allison turned from the book-shelves to 
 me, and smiled cheerfully. I gazed at him won- 
 deringly, the pain in my eyes and head seem- 
 ing suddenly more intense, and rather inclining 
 me to miserable silence unless speech were a 
 necessity. As for an answering smile, that were 
 too vast a work of supererogation. I was tired, 
 worried and wretched.
 
 December. 225 
 
 Every one cannot be girt and ready for the 
 fray in an instant like Mr. Allison. Had I 
 been utterly mistaken in the idea that his voice 
 contained a note of deep and bitter sadness? It 
 would seem so. As he still stood smiling, I at 
 last made an effort to say : 
 
 " Really, I wish you'd go at once. And I'll 
 telephone Jack besides. I must find out whether 
 he's all right." 
 
 " An excellent idea ! Good-night, Mrs. Wood- 
 ward." 
 
 We stood together at the library door, Mr. 
 Allison bowing over my hand, when Crosson 
 rather hurriedly passed us in the hall, ostenta- 
 tiously carrying a lamp-extinguisher. An ex- 
 pression of my childhood, one for which father 
 frequently chastised me, rose to my mind, 
 although I could not have definitely told why: 
 " Drat that man ! " 
 
 It seemed an eternity before Central gave me 
 the Blashfields' telephone number. 
 
 " I wish to see Mr. Woodward at the phone." 
 
 Another long wait. I almost danced up and 
 down. 
 
 "Yes? Who is it?" Evidently Jack did not 
 know it was I ! Such a voice ! 
 
 " Dot. Come home, won't you ? Mr. Allison 
 will be there in a few minutes, and he'll stay 
 till morning. How is Belle ? " I spoke with 
 
 15
 
 226 Dainty Devils. 
 
 particular sweetness, to shame Jack for his gruff- 
 ness. A woman who is gentle, is almost omnipo- 
 tent. 
 
 " All right, only horribly nervous. I'll come 
 as soon as Allison gets here." What a flattering 
 change of tone! The telephone is the cause of 
 many a revelation. And the soft answer of a 
 woman will turn away much wrath indeed 
 from a man. What good are our texts if they 
 are never practically applied? Surely the Holy 
 Book is for daily use, not for Sunday complain- 
 ings, alone, when song and organ and euphonious 
 prayers have lulled and numbed us into over- 
 tranquillity, and its wholesome admonitions and 
 plain lessons cannot rouse us into a sense of 
 their being personally addressed to our own ad- 
 mirable selves. 
 
 " Is " I paused. How could I ask Jack if 
 Percy Earle was still there ? " Jack, is I mean 
 are you the only man in the house ? " 
 
 " Outside the servants yes. What a ques- 
 tion!" 
 
 " I am so glad ! Come soon. Good-bye." 
 
 I hung up the receiver and flew to Marion. 
 The angelic soul was on her knees praying, her 
 head buried in the bed in the most contrite, 
 reverent fashion, which I did not scruple to dis- 
 turb. 
 
 " Marion ! I beg your pardon, but Percy's not
 
 December. 227 
 
 Dear me that is, Jack's the only man at 
 Blashfields'." 
 
 Marion lifted her head and remained kneeling. 
 
 " I was saying my prayers, Dot." 
 
 " Yes, I know." I pressed the button which 
 controlled the lights, and the room was brilliantly 
 illuminated. 
 
 " Dot, what are you doing? " 
 
 " Oh, please get up and let me look at you, 
 Marion. No, I'm not crazy, dear. You needn't 
 be alarmed. I wanted to see yes, it's back 
 your look of bright serenity. Only you have 
 red eyelids, and your nose isn't quite as aristo- 
 cratically pale as it ought to be. Tell me, Marion, 
 is it praying that makes you so superior a be- 
 ing?" 
 
 Marion stumbled to her feet, and walked si- 
 lently to the electric button. Turning off the 
 lights, she spoke, for her rather haughtily : 
 
 " Dot, please go to bed and permit me the 
 privacy of my room. I don't think you're a bit 
 kind this evening." 
 
 I was crushed. Marion was not jesting. Sud- 
 denly I had a comprehension of her humiliation 
 because she had broken down with me. Ah! 
 Marion, with all her sweetness is mightily proud ! 
 
 " Good-night, dear," I said, going without kiss- 
 ing her. 
 
 " Good-night, Dot. Wait a minute."
 
 228 Dainty Devils. 
 
 She came after me and put her arms around 
 me. 
 
 " Don't be angry, Dot ; I'm only cross and dis- 
 appointed with myself. You're a darling." 
 
 A kiss, a push at the shoulders, and Marion 
 had shut me out. Then she laughed from behind 
 the closed door, and I went slowly to my room, 
 too weary and dull to be angry or worried or 
 anything else. 
 
 Perkins was pacing the room when I entered 
 it. I fancied she had resorted to the exercise 
 to keep awake, till I found her hands shaking 
 as she undressed me, and glancing at her saw that 
 she was crying. 
 
 "Are you ill, Perkins?" 
 
 " No, Madam." 
 
 It was a vast effort to interest myself, but 
 Uncle Dalton's voice seemed to float through the 
 air, saying " Christian sympathy," and I bravely 
 proceeded to ask : 
 
 "In trouble, then?" 
 
 " N no That is, yes. Oh, it's nothing, 
 Madam. Only my husband who hasn't let me 
 know where he was for fifteen years, is writing 
 now to his loving wife for five hundred dollars ! 
 Oh. Madam, human beings is very strange 
 things ! " 
 
 I yawned sleepily, " Very strange things ! " 
 The woman had voiced the cry of my heart, the
 
 December. 229 
 
 cry which had been mine now for nearly two 
 months. 
 
 " Yes, Perkins," I said solemnly, " you're right. 
 Human beings are the strangest things in all 
 the world. Don't be surprised at anything." 
 
 I got into bed, repeating the advice to myself. 
 I intended not to fall asleep before Jack came 
 home, but the words turned themselves into a 
 refrain " Don't ever be surprised ever be sur- 
 prised at anything " which was soporific in its 
 rhythm, and I weakly succumbed. 
 
 " Sit here by Mrs. Woodward till she wakens. 
 She was very restless all night." 
 
 It was Jack giving Perkins instructions. 
 " Jack ! I'm awake ! How's Belle ? " 
 " Much better. Don't get up, dear." 
 " Yes, I shall Jack and at once." 
 " You seem to have wakened cross." 
 " Not at all ; I've something important to at- 
 tend to. Run along now. I'll soon be down, and 
 I'll tell you all about it." 
 
 I was rather nervous at the prospect before 
 me. Perkins was clumsy and nervous too, par- 
 ticularly in the arranging of my dreadful mop 
 of hair. No wonder Jack laughed teasingly 
 when I at last appeared at breakfast. 
 " If this be soon" he began,
 
 230 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Don't ! " I said, beseechingly ; " I'm very 
 serious, Jack." 
 
 " Oh, I'd rather you were frivolous. It's more 
 in character with the shape of your face." 
 
 I drank my coffee and said nothing; it was 
 cruel joy to me that the coffee scalded my mouth. 
 
 "What is it, darling?" 
 
 The servants were momentarily invisible, and 
 Jack atoned for his naughtiness by the dearest 
 voice in the world. 
 
 Setting down my cup, I straightened import- 
 antly. 
 
 " Jack, it's only fitting that Mr. St. John should 
 come home to his wife." 
 
 Jack gazed at me in wonderment. My next 
 remark rather marred the effect. 
 
 " Mr. Allison says so." 
 
 " Oh ! Well, Dot, what have you to do with 
 the matter?" 
 
 " I'm going to see Belle if you don't object 
 and ask her to cable him to come home." 
 
 The cable was my original idea. The Post 
 to Europe would not be quick enough in this 
 matter. It was exactly like Allison, I reflected, 
 to suggest a slow way of encompassing anything. 
 
 For some seconds Jack did not speak. He sat 
 frowning, apparently at some object to be seen 
 from the window. Watching him, I became lost 
 in the contemplation of his fine profile.
 
 December. 231 
 
 " Jack," I breathed, " what a lovely nose yours 
 is!" 
 
 He started and the frown faded into a broad 
 smile. 
 
 " Dot, do you know what you were speaking of 
 two minutes ago ? " 
 
 I was very much mortified. My short nose is 
 to blame for my abnormal interest in that feature. 
 
 " Of course I do. My mind only wandered 
 for a single instant. Tell me, may I go to 
 Belle?" 
 
 " I am considering, little one. What will you 
 say?" 
 
 " Don't know." 
 
 Although my heart was beginning to fail me, 
 I spoke nonchalantly enough. Jack's frown re- 
 turned, and he sat furiously pulling his mous- 
 tache. No encouragement apparent, my heart 
 failed more, and I, as women will, took refuge 
 in a reproachful tone: 
 
 " You don't seem to have much faith in my 
 ability, Jack." 
 
 " I'm afraid, dear, that your task won't be 
 a pleasant one. Have you finished? Come, let 
 us walk over together." 
 
 It was so absolutely and unadulteratedly man- 
 nish to take me up at my word without any 
 objection or argument to speak of that Jack's 
 sudden acquiesence made me give a feminine
 
 232 Dainty Devils. 
 
 gulp and gasp of protest at the calm command to 
 do what I had expected to be indignantly 
 forbidden. According to my understanding of 
 the case, Jack and I ought to have had quite 
 a lengthy scene first, his ultimate consent to my 
 proposition being the direct result of the most 
 patient and self-controlled eloquence. As mat- 
 ters eventuated, I was to go the minute I finished 
 my breakfast, and Jack's decision influenced me 
 to the extent of my leaving the table at once, 
 oblivious till a couple of hours later of the fact 
 that I had not eaten half enough. Meekly and 
 dutifully I hurried into street things. Hardly ten 
 minutes had passed since Jack's ultimatum, when 
 we were on the way. 
 
 Jack strode most unkindly and thoughtlessly, 
 and almost gasping I reached Blashfields'. The 
 house was ominously still a painful contrast to 
 the gay, noisy scene of yesterday. 
 
 The man who went upstairs to inquire, said 
 we could go up at once. Mrs. St. John was very 
 comfortable. I turned to Jack, trembling a little. 
 
 " Don't come with me," I said, rather faintly. 
 " I'll do better alone." 
 
 " Yes, Dot, you will." 
 
 Jack pressed my hand, and I turned resolutely 
 to my errand. Perhaps it was lack of experience, 
 but it looked like a hard one to me, and I 
 earnestly wanted to succeed.
 
 December. 233 
 
 Belle was very white and changed. She smiled 
 as I kissed her, and I am sure she was glad 
 to see me. 
 
 " Lou's asleep," she whispered. " The first 
 time she never left me till an hour ago." 
 
 " Yes, the nurse said so, and that I must not 
 stop long. You can go home to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, if you want to call it home. It's nicer 
 here." 
 
 Belle's dark eyes roved over the beautiful 
 room, and lit for an instant upon each lovely 
 object. I was already at a loss for a congenial 
 remark. Bitterness, covetousness, a savage ap- 
 preciation of luxury, burned in the sick woman's 
 eyes, and her childish mouth was set and ugly. 
 Suddenly my inspiration came. 
 
 " Belle," I said, tightly clasping my hands, 
 " if if your husband were with you, wouldn't it 
 be possible for you to have more of a home than 
 you have now?" 
 
 Recalling the scene and circumstances I won- 
 der that Belle permitted me to finish. 
 
 Gazing at me fixedly, she did not move for 
 several seconds. The morning sun, growing 
 higher, sent a ray from under the curtain into 
 Belle's staring eyes. Mechanically I rose and 
 pulled down the shade. While my back was 
 turned, Belle began, rapidly in spite of frequent 
 gasps for breath.
 
 234 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Dot, I lie here helpless, and you take advan- 
 tage of me. I dare not get up and strike you, 
 because the act might cost my life. And in spite 
 of all, death is more bitter than the worst life 
 that ever was. I tell you that I'd kill him if 
 I saw him. Do you hear? Lou's house isn't 
 heaven, I allow, but St. John's house was hell." 
 
 I stood terrified and speechless. Belle panted 
 and clutched at the counterpane. After a mo- 
 ment she began again, her voice low and piteous, 
 in sharp contrast to her first outburst : 
 
 " I was young when I married him, Dot only 
 a few months older than you are now. And 
 I loved him loved him almost to the verge of 
 insanity. He cheated me of my happiness, he 
 crushed my pride. He was a beast and my kind 
 friends said : ' I told you so.' Now they think 
 I am dying, do they ? And they want me to call 
 him back." 
 
 Belle turned her head away from me, her last 
 words dying into a faint murmur, almost like 
 one thinking aloud. Involuntarily I dropped to 
 my knees beside the bed, hiding my face in 
 Belle's pillow. To my chagrin I discovered that 
 I was crying. Belle apparently took no notice. 
 A stir in the next room brought me to my feet. 
 
 " Mrs. St. John must not talk too long," said 
 the nurse at the doorway, with professional im- 
 portance.
 
 December. 235 
 
 " Mrs. Woodward will go in five minutes/' 
 Belle returned, haughty rebuke in her voice. The 
 nurse disappeared. 
 
 "Good-bye," I said, faintly; "I hope you'll 
 feel much better to-morrow, Belle." 
 
 Belle pushed back her fluffy blonde hair. An 
 unmirthful smile played about her lips. 
 
 " Good-bye, Dot. I shan't die. You will see. 
 Next week, I'll be at it again. Cards and whis- 
 key, and sometimes morphine. Do you shudder ? 
 Oh, I'm a hopeless case. Thank goodness, Mrs. 
 Robertson is paid, and I'll start free! She did 
 have a most mysterious debt, herself. I wonder 
 what the deuce it was ? " 
 
 I kissed the hot cheek and went away without 
 another word. The nurse had a scathingly re- 
 proachful expression upon her face as she bade 
 me " Good morning." My heart sank with the 
 thought that her disapproval was just and mer- 
 ited. When, late in the afternoon, Jack was has- 
 tily summoned because Belle had had another 
 hemorrhage and was very low, I felt like an 
 executioner. Even Jack changed color. I firmly 
 believe that if Belle had died, I should have lost 
 my reason. 
 
 Owing to the excitement over graver matters, 
 I forgot Crosson till evening. Sending for 
 Blackwell, I discovered that Crosson's month 
 would be up to-day.
 
 236 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Discharge him at once." 
 
 " But, Madam " Blackwell paused, in con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " Send him away at once. I don't care to give 
 an order twice. As he had no warning, pay him 
 an extra month." 
 
 " Yes, Madam." 
 
 So Crosson is out of the house. It was a 
 very good thing I had that tilt with Black- 
 well. I no longer find myself becoming para- 
 lyzed at the thought of giving her a command. 
 And the whole house is cleaner, so that I shall 
 not be mortally ashamed if Lame Ann comes 
 to visit me. What a salutary example Lame Ann 
 was to me in my youthful years! Not a thing 
 goes awry in this elegant household, not a diffi- 
 culty arises, that I do not instantly ask myself: 
 " What would Lame Ann do ? " Faithful, saucy, 
 defiant, devoted, in spite of frequent battles and 
 daily rebellion, Lame Ann has my tender love 
 and sincerest admiration, and should the promise 
 she once exacted from me to put up a monu- 
 ment for her ever come to be fulfilled, I am 
 determined to inscribe thereon her name in gold. 
 
 Jack did not inquire as to the success of my 
 visit to Belle. That I met him red-eyed and 
 silent was sufficient. Before he left in the after- 
 noon at the news that Belle's condition was well- 
 nigh hopeless, he whispered a few words to com-
 
 December. 237 
 
 fort me. They only added to my trepidation. If 
 Jack were not alarmed, he would not try to con- 
 sole. 
 
 It was late when he returned and found me 
 waiting. 
 
 " She's all right, little one. Dr. Stanton said 
 the second hemorrhage would have occurred in 
 any case." 
 
 In any case! That meant even though I had 
 not gone to Belle. I sighed out my relief. Jack's 
 arm was around me, and considerable of my 
 trouble always evaporates at that strong, reassur- 
 ing support, anyway. How did I exist before 
 I had Jack ? Ah ! to be sure, I had no troubles 
 then! 
 
 " I went with a good motive, Jack. I was 
 thinking Belle might like to forgive as she hopes 
 to be forgiven." 
 
 Jack gravely kissed my forehead. 
 
 " It's not for us to consider whether Belle has 
 more to be forgiven than we ourselves." 
 
 I was humble for a minute. Then I burst out 
 laughing : 
 
 " Jack ! May I smoke and drink and gamble ? 
 And won't you consider at all ? " 
 
 " For shame, Dot ! " 
 
 And I kissed his frown away, not solemnly as 
 he kissed me, but teasingly and persistently, until 
 he smiled and said :
 
 238 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Thank God, Dot, you were brought up in 
 Graytown ! " 
 
 It seems to me that was enough to satisfy any- 
 body.
 
 JANUARY. 
 
 ANOTHER year has begun. For the first time 
 in my life an unpleasantly solemn feeling over- 
 whelms me when I repeat that sentence to my- 
 self. Last year was the most important of all 
 years for me. In it I met Jack, loved him, 
 and by marrying him surrendered my future into 
 his hands. Only twelve months ago, I did not 
 know of Jack's existence. Could any year con- 
 tain more enormous changes for me than this 
 one, but just dead and reverently buried? Cer- 
 tainly not and yet all Lame Ann's premoni- 
 tions rolled into one could not equal the dread 
 I have of the near future, now that the holidays 
 are over, father has gone back to Graytown, and 
 I once more face all the contradictions and catas- 
 trophes of the lives about me. 
 
 Belle did not die. Nor has she changed one 
 particle, except corporeally. She says she lost ten 
 pounds before she was allowed to eat and drink 
 again. It is three weeks since Blashfields' tea, 
 and yesterday Belle went off to a house-party in 
 honor of some one's birthday at Lakewood. The 
 last thing I heard her say at the ferry was that 
 
 239
 
 240 Dainty Devils. 
 
 she would do all right, as Annie had put plenty 
 of whiskey into the trunks. 
 
 Lou departed over a week ago upon her jour- 
 ney West. She must have some exceptionally 
 dear friends out there, for her entire summer 
 was passed with them and now she has left with 
 the announcement that we must exist without her 
 for the next month. Jack seemed rather dis- 
 turbed about her going, and asked her what di- 
 version she might be seeking which she could 
 not find in New York ? To this Lou responded, 
 " A perfectly new one, Jack," and laughed 
 very immoderately. Then Jack grew a little 
 flushed and angry, and told her he hoped she 
 would at least leave her address. " Certainly ; but 
 you're not planning to write to me, are you ? " 
 Jack went out after that and did not return 
 until Lou had gone. I am certain that he inten- 
 tionally avoided bidding her good-bye. 
 
 Mr. Allison is South shooting things, I be- 
 lieve. They say he is a most wonderful man with 
 guns. 
 
 While father was with us, much of my worry 
 vanished. His happy, child-like faith and love, 
 pervading the rather formal and stereotyped at- 
 mosphere of the Woodward house, put suspicion 
 and unrest to sleep somewhere in a dark corner, 
 and I began to be almost forgetful of my new 
 dignities and responsibilities,
 
 January. 241 
 
 Father arrived on the twenty-second. That 
 very evening, sitting alone with Jack and me 
 after our half-dozen dinner guests had departed, 
 he asked : 
 
 " Are you all ready for Christmas, Gretchen? " 
 
 " Hope so," Jack answered, making a face. 
 " I've done the best I know how, still it remains 
 to be seen whether Dot will deem that sufficient." 
 
 " It's mean to libel your wife," I said, not 
 wholly in jest : for I am sensitive about Jack's 
 constant endeavor to load me with gifts, as 
 though my desire to possess were something in- 
 satiable. 
 
 " I don't mean the presents," explained father ; 
 " I mean, have you arranged for a tree and all 
 that?" 
 
 My eyelids dropped : so tainted am I with mat- 
 ter-of-factness already, that my chief preparation 
 for Christmas has been outside of purchasing 
 .many expensive and fascinating gifts an order 
 to the florist to put up lots of greens. Be it 
 remembered that this was the first rich Christ- 
 mas I had ever known, and the novelty of spend- 
 ing money had proved quite intoxicating. 
 
 I suppose I am rather in the position of a 
 beggar on horse-back, as Mrs. Robertson did not 
 hesitate to remark to Mrs. Van Voort, when I 
 met the pair shopping. I heard the remark, and 
 Mrs. Van Voorts' giggle and " Sh ! ". New York 
 
 16
 
 242 Dainty Devils. 
 
 women are, en masse, beautiful and clever ; they 
 are also, en masse, small and contemptible in their 
 treatment of their own sex. 
 
 All this does not excuse my loss of much of 
 the sweet poetry of life during two months' so- 
 journ in Swelldom. I concluded, embarrassed, 
 that I am father's unworthy daughter, and mean- 
 while Jack answered: 
 
 " Why, I haven't helped dress a tree since I 
 came home from Heidelberg! It was great fun. 
 We used to go to a little village, where one 
 of the boys belonged; there we cut out paper 
 rings and pasted them in long chains, and the 
 Hausfrau gave us little cakes and things to put 
 strings into. That was about all, except the can- 
 dles. Oh, we had plenty of them, and when the 
 short, thickly-boughed tree set upon a table, was 
 dressed, we lit the candles, pushed back the cur- 
 tains, turned out the lamp and sang, Ihr Kinder, 
 Kommt Alle! That was happiness and peace, fit 
 indeed for Christmas Eve." 
 
 Jack paused, his eyes shining, and his thoughts 
 far back in his University days when he did 
 not know me, I jealously reflected. Still, after 
 all, he could not have interested me to any great 
 extent when I was one year old, so I need not 
 grudge him the happy reminiscences of Ger- 
 many. Only I never want him to wear that 
 tender, rapt expression about any circumstances
 
 January. 243 
 
 of his bachelor-life in New York. As I watched 
 him, he smiled and continued, father eagerly lis- 
 tening : 
 
 " Later in the evening, we boys used to go 
 out and walk all through the village. In every 
 house were the same white curtains freshly 
 washed for the Festival, geraniums and monthly 
 roses on the window sills, and placed in the room 
 so every passer-by might see and enjoy, the 
 Christmas tree on its table; it's home-made or- 
 naments were beautiful in their simplicity and ap- 
 propriateness, besides being so happily eloquent 
 of the faith and patience in the brains and 
 hands that fashioned them. The whole picture 
 was glorified by the tender light of a hun- 
 dred candles. Not one house was without the 
 sign of Christmas Eve, not one face hinted that 
 pain and poverty were not seldom guests. Do 
 you know what that little village on Christmas 
 Eve suggested to me, Dot? There was always 
 snow, and the roofs are peaked, and some- 
 how the entire scene was more like a Christmas- 
 card than real existence. I believe I have seen 
 a card with the whole composition little Ger- 
 man houses, with snow on the peaked roofs, prob- 
 ably a moon in a corner of the sky, and in the 
 foreground a window from which the curtains 
 are drawn back, revealing a small lighted Christ- 
 mas-tree placed upon a table."
 
 244 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Father laughed softly. 
 
 " So I have pictured it," he said, " and Gret- 
 chen and I have never been without our tree." 
 
 " Really ? In Massachusetts ? " 
 
 " Always ; even my father in his first year of 
 exile, when New England frowned upon such 
 encouragement of Popish observances." Here 
 father slyly smiled. " The Puritans are not so 
 Puritanical as they once were. I've heard my 
 father tell of how when he first arranged a tree, 
 some fifty years ago, he almost lost the friend- 
 ship of the minister. As he subsequently married 
 the minister's sister, you may believe that he 
 nevertheless succeeded in proving his Protestant- 
 ism. You see, the worst part was the wax angel 
 that he put on the top. How about that wax 
 angel, Gretchen? Did you bring it in one of 
 your wedding-boxes ? " 
 
 " No," shamefacedly, " I forgot all about it, 
 father. And I haven't a tree either." I felt 
 positively depraved. 
 
 "Don't pout so, little one," said Jack, patting 
 my cheek. " We'll order a tree in the morning, 
 and we'll get Marion LaGrange to help fix it. 
 We won't dress it till late Christmas Eve, and 
 we'll get up early Christmas morning and come 
 downstairs in the cold, and light our tree and 
 have our presents, as I've heard Addie Layton 
 say her children make her do."
 
 January. 245 
 
 " When the hearts are warm, the room tem- 
 perature doesn't matter," father said, his cameo 
 profile softening beautifully. " Gretchen and I al- 
 ways had our tree Christmas morning in Gray- 
 town, didn't we ? And it was cold, oh, very, very 
 cold." 
 
 " Yes, indeed it was," I cried, going over to 
 kiss him. " I think nothing short of the wax 
 angel could have fetched me out of my warm 
 bed at five o'clock, to go down into the freez- 
 ing study." 
 
 " Yet the tree would never have kept fresh 
 so long, had the house been over-heated like this 
 one," said father, simply. 
 
 Our warm house is a penance to him, which 
 I share to some extent myself. Talk of a hot- 
 house flower flung out into the cold street ! It is 
 no less trying to be a field-daisy transplanted 
 to a steam-heated conservatory. Did a daisy 
 reared in a hot-house ever in this world keep its 
 innocent assurance and crisp hardiness? No: 
 it is always a limp, shrinking, uncertain blossom, 
 minus half its allotted petals. 
 
 " I'll order a tree in the morning," said Jack, 
 with an air of finality. " And we'll try for a 
 German country Christmas." 
 
 Father looked distinctly disappointed. 
 
 " What is it ? " I asked laughing, for I fancied. 
 I knew,
 
 246 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Would it not be better couldn't you and I 
 go pick out one, Gretchen ? " he asked, almost 
 bashfully. 
 
 " Of course," I said, heartily. " Pretend 
 there's no telephone, Jack, and father and I will 
 go and buy our own tree." 
 
 " And leave me out ? " cried Jack, indignantly. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I thought you wouldn't care to 
 come." 
 
 " You don't know me yet, Dot." 
 
 So in the morning we went out, afoot, to look 
 for a tree. Father's natural way of doing things 
 with interest and enthusiasm had happily in- 
 fected Jack and me, and we had the jolliest kind 
 of a time, choosing and considering, condemn- 
 ing and bargaining. The florists' shops were 
 crowded, most people coming in excited and 
 hurried, purchasing the first thing shown them, 
 and leaving without further words than giv- 
 ing name and address. I recognized three-quar- 
 ters of these persons as butlers and house-keep- 
 ers. Of course New York ladies and gen- 
 tlemen were much too occupied to personally buy 
 Christmas-wreaths. What irony that the richer 
 one is, the more servants one has, the less time 
 one possesses ! A woman who goes out working 
 by the day, has the evening to use as she pleases, 
 and Sundays besides. I am sure that in the less 
 extravagant neighborhoods, these women and
 
 January. 247 
 
 their husbands go out to buy a Christmas-tree or 
 wreath, and never dream but they have lots of 
 time to do it. The rich women I know, deputize 
 every possible action to others. I have heard 
 Belle St. John say that she wished to Heaven 
 some other woman could be fitted for her, as it 
 took too much time to get gowns ! And Belle 
 St. John is neither musical, literary nor philan- 
 thropic. What she does to use up her days, I do 
 not know. 
 
 As we left the florist's, our tree tagged and 
 bound, a little flurry of snow was falling. The 
 air smelt refreshingly clean. 
 
 " You look well, daughter," said father ; 
 " much fresher than yesterday. The snow-air 
 has done you good." 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, pulling up my fur collar ; 
 " I will call a cab. This snow is unexpected." 
 
 " No, no, no ! " I answered, quite impatiently 
 " I want to think we're back in Graytown, Jack ; 
 and there we never had money for cabs. Oh, I 
 love the snow ! " 
 
 A tall girl hurrying along past us, her head 
 down against the scurrying snow-flakes, paused 
 suddenly and turned back. 
 
 " Dot ! " she called, in her sweet, sincere voice. 
 " I knew your voice ! " It was Marion, and I was 
 delighted. 
 
 " This is my father, dear," I said, breathlessly,
 
 248 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " and I want you to come with us and stop all 
 day, and to-morrow, too. We're going to have 
 a tree ! " 
 
 " My dear Dot," expostulated Jack, " don't 
 talk so fast. Can you come with us, Marion? 
 We've been buying a tree, and are now upon our 
 way home." 
 
 Marion had given her hand to father almost 
 deferentially. 
 
 " Thank you, I can't to-day : for I'm going to 
 dress a tree for the Settlement children," she 
 said. " To-morrow, most delightedly." 
 
 The wind was beginning to blow in gusts, and 
 to work the snow down into one's neck. Jack, 
 who occasionally forgets that I am a hardy 
 country girl, glanced anxiously in my direction. 
 
 " Auf Wiedersehen!" said he. " It's too windy 
 to stand here." And we parted, unwillingly. 
 
 " She's so good ! " I said, to father. " Works 
 hours every day for the poor and sick, and 
 teaches horribly dirty little children." 
 
 " And she is how old ? " he asked, thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " Twenty. And so clever. Wait till you hear 
 her play! Oh, she works too hard, with her 
 practicing and all." 
 
 " Twenty, and works at the Missions ! My 
 child, my father used to say that when a young 
 girl takes enthusiastically to works of charity,
 
 January. 249 
 
 she has had an unhappy affair of the heart. She 
 dashes into the effort to assist others because in 
 that occupation she finds a sentimental balm for 
 her mental suffering. Her work is done under 
 a peculiar excitement, and often ends in a piti- 
 ful despair." 
 
 I could say nothing. Jack was laughing. 
 
 " Marion has had at least two offers/' he said. 
 
 If men, even the brightest, are not dull ! What 
 good would fifty offers be, when the only desired 
 one remained wanting? 
 
 We were at the foot of the house-steps. Father 
 touched Jack's arm to give emphasis to his 
 words. 
 
 " The girl is beautiful," he said, " and at her 
 age should be happy. Can you look at her eyes 
 and mouth without seeing that she is not ? " 
 
 " Now, really, papa," said Jack, provokingly, 
 " there's only one pair of eyes in the world which 
 interests me." 
 
 It was in very good spirits that we entered 
 the house, and even father was grateful for its 
 cozy warmth. 
 
 ;fc % jfc >(: sjc 5|c j|e 
 
 Marion came early next day, her mother join- 
 ing us later, at luncheon. The snow having 
 amounted to more than we anticipated, it was 
 possible to go sleighing in the afternoon. I have 
 discovered that sleigh-rides in New York are
 
 250 Dainty Devils. 
 
 rare events. We found the Park packed to a 
 degree positively dangerous, and I wondered once 
 or twice what would become of us if only 
 one horse in the mass of vehicles and animals 
 should begin to cut up capers. Once out of 
 the Park, I enjoyed myself better. It was inter- 
 esting to note the infinite variety of sleighs 
 pushed into service. From the most extrava- 
 gantly appointed, to old painted boxes on run- 
 ners, they flew by with equal gayety. And as 
 for the occupants, for once New Yorkers seemed 
 a jolly lot who did not keep themselves tightly 
 screwed up in a kind of dignity, which is so 
 unstable that those who indulge in it know the 
 slightest relaxation of pressure would cause it 
 to unwind and collapse. There were unaffected 
 laughter, calls from one hooded, veiled and un- 
 recognizable head to another as perfectly dis- 
 guised. There was some singing of snatches of 
 students' songs, and among the less elegant 
 equipages, the interchange of good-natured teas- 
 ing. All these were due to the magic of a rare 
 sport. It seems odd to see people so excessively 
 glad of a sleigh-ride. How often in Graytown 
 have we unspeakably longed for the snow to de- 
 part, although between snow and good roads, lay 
 the inevitable horror of thaw ! 
 
 In the evening we dressed the tree. Father 
 had gone out alone, and found a wax angel with
 
 January. 251 
 
 a blue silk skirt exactly like ours at home: so 
 nothing was wanting. Mrs. LaGrange helped 
 energetically, and Marion was demurely happy. 
 As for father, he climbed the ladder and draped 
 and hung, as in the study at Graytown, happy as 
 a child, and sweetly in earnest about everything. 
 It was with a prayer of gratitude I reflected, 
 that hardly one of our " set/' outside of Mrs. 
 LaGrange and Marion, was in town, and there 
 was no likelihood of a disturbing note entering 
 into the present harmony. We decided that both 
 Marion and her mother should remain over- 
 night : for all wanted to save the lighting of the 
 Christmas-tree till morning. Father was to offi- 
 ciate at the distribution of the presents, and we 
 agreed that the servants should come also to 
 receive their gifts from beneath the tree. 
 
 " At Christmas, if at any time, we ought to 
 remember that we are all one family," father said. 
 
 Would anyone believe it? When we came 
 noisily downstairs in the morning, to meet the 
 sight of the sombre evergreen transfigured into 
 a blazing glory by its two hundred burning can- 
 dles, our hearts so full of joy and good-will that 
 we should have been temporarily glad to hail a 
 red Indian as a near relative, the only servants 
 who had deigned to appear were Blackwell and 
 Perkins! Not one of the others was up yet. 
 Evidently our well-meant invitation had been
 
 252 Dainty Devils. 
 
 scorned. The servants had no ambition what- 
 ever to belong to our " family." Quite disgusted 
 and disillusionised, I told Blackwell she could 
 distribute the gifts to the below-stairs portion of 
 the household when and where she liked They 
 were to be removed at once from the library 
 where we were gathered. 
 
 This incident forgotten, that hour by the tree 
 was very sweet. Jack had been most lavish, and 
 every one of us was laden with remembrances. 
 Father beamed perpetually, spoke little and bore 
 in his face more of the spirit of the Little Child 
 who was born in a manger, than any of us even 
 intense, visionary, enthusiastic Marion. 
 
 Breakfast was late, and most indifferently 
 cooked. Our elevated thoughts came down 
 hard when they sank into bitter, heavy biscuits, 
 and were drowned altogether in the wretched 
 reality of the worst coffee I ever drank anywhere. 
 Six of the servants, including the cook, went 
 to a ball last night, and returned at five this 
 morning. Small wonder they were not at the 
 Christmas-tree ! Never in her life did Lame Ann 
 serve such a meal. Blackwell shall hear my 
 opinion.. I am so glad I am not afraid of her 
 any more. 
 
 Later there was Church, and after luncheon, 
 music. To be perfectly frank, the music did me 
 more good than the service at St. Clara's. I
 
 January. 253 
 
 mean our own music Marion's and mine. At 
 church there was much ornate singing, apropos 
 of nothing whatever, all words lost in a confusion 
 of trills and tra-las, and a sermon that was a 
 conglomeration of Socialism, poetical quotations 
 and an egotistic resume of the good works of 
 St. Clara's parish during the past year. Of 
 religion there was about as much in that dis- 
 course as well, I almost wrote " in Paddy's pig," 
 but that is too seemingly disrespectful, so I will 
 say, in Addie Layton, who sat directly in front of 
 me and spent every minute admiring her brand 
 new Russian sable muff. It is as big as a good 
 sized pig, by-the-way, and represents an invest- 
 ment large enough to keep all the hands of the 
 Mission children warm through the winter. 
 
 At four o'clock Marion rose from the piano, 
 where she had been playing accompaniments and 
 singing while I did an Obligate on the violin, 
 exclaiming that she would be late at the Set- 
 tlement. I had been mentally calling her St. 
 Cecelia for the last hour, yet her ecstatic expres- 
 sion impressed me unpleasantly as she kissed me 
 in the hall. It seems to me that a great many 
 of the Saints must have worried their friends. 
 " Dear me, Marion, must you go ? " 
 " Yes, Dot. I must try to give some of this 
 sense of peace to others. Wouldn't it be selfish 
 not to go ? "
 
 254 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Ye-es ; I suppose so." The thought required 
 digestion. 
 
 I slipped my arm about her waist. Even with 
 her heavy jacket, her waist is unhealthily slim. 
 
 " Marion, you're too ethereal in every way. 
 You always give me the idea that you didn't 
 get enough mush-and-milk when you were little." 
 
 She laughed nervously. 
 
 " I didn't get any, Dot. I hated it. And still 
 I'm very strong. Don't you see how much I can 
 stand?" 
 
 Marion's dark eyes were dilated, her cheeks 
 bright red. Father was right ; she works under 
 the stimulus of unnatural excitement. I sighed 
 as I told her to hurry back. If Percy Earle loved 
 her, how different Marion would be! I do not 
 believe marriage would leave her much time for 
 Settlements, and that Settlement is killing her by 
 inches, because she is unreasonable in the amount 
 of time and strength she gives to it. With her 
 it is not the quiet acceptance of a beautiful voca- 
 tion it is the wild hurry of work to keep from 
 thinking of another vocation for which she 
 yearns. Oh, Percy Earle, I wish I did not like 
 you! You ought to be thrashed for breaking 
 this girl's heart. And Lou pretty, dainty, 
 wicked Lou if only she would stay West for- 
 ever!
 
 January. 255 
 
 Jack came into the hall to see whether I were 
 lost. 
 
 Marion was late for dinner. Her flush had 
 died out, and dark hollows were under her eyes ; 
 the ecstasy of a few hours back was replaced by 
 weariness and suffering. I wondered crossly 
 whether she had given so much peace to the rag- 
 amuffins that her supply had been exhausted. 
 She ate scarcely anything, and talked very little. 
 Jack did not seem to notice, but father and Mrs. 
 LaGrange closely watched her. I almost choked 
 once at the ghastly thought that Marion might be 
 doomed to consumption. In fiction, at least, so 
 many good people are. 
 
 " Merry Christmas ! " called Jack, suddenly. 
 "What ails you, Dot?" 
 
 " One can't be merry all the time," I an- 
 swered, not very sweetly ; for I was provoked at 
 the start I had given. 
 
 " No only happy," said Marion, dreamily. 
 " There's a difference. The angels sang ' Peace 
 and Good Will,' you know: they didn't mention 
 gaiety." 
 
 " Being an angel yourself, I fancy you were 
 there?" 
 
 I glanced quickly at Marion, for I thought 
 Jack's words might be interpreted either as a 
 laughable compliment or a cruel sarcasm. Mar- 
 ion's good sense saved the hour.
 
 256 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " No Perhaps I was nearer those of my 
 color." She touched her coal-black pompadour, 
 and father led the laugh. " Really I don't re- 
 member." 
 
 Jack smoked in silence a long time when we 
 were alone that evening. 
 
 " Dot," he began, suddenly, " can you use any 
 influence to keep Marion from killing herself 
 with her Missions? " 
 
 " Why? " The question was meant to be eva- 
 sive. 
 
 " Oh ! Her mother is anxious." 
 
 "Did she tell you so?" 
 
 " Yes. I had never noticed how thin the girl 
 was." 
 
 " Well It's my shrewd guess that I should 
 have to see that Marion became engaged." 
 
 " To be married ? Nonsense. She will enter 
 a Sisterhood." 
 
 " All things are possible. However, Marion 
 won't be a Sister." Jack's idea in this matter 
 always angers me. 
 
 " How do you know ? Is she in love with any- 
 one, Dot?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly not," sarcastically. " Marion 
 will probably go into a nunnery. Haven't you 
 said so ? " 
 
 " What makes you so cross and so rude ?
 
 January. 257 
 
 Dot, if you know anything, I wish you would tell 
 me." 
 
 " I know nothing. Father surmises things, 
 and Jack, father is cleverer than most men." 
 
 " No doubt," gravely. 
 
 This meek acceptance of my little dig made me 
 ashamed. 
 
 "If you please, Jack, I would rather speak of 
 something else. Marion has never given me her 
 confidence, and whatever I think may be entirely 
 incorrect." 
 
 " However, dear," said Jack, earnestly, " you 
 might get Marion to eat more, you know, and 
 see a doctor and all that." 
 
 I burst out laughing. Dear old Jack, what a 
 dull darling you are in matters of sentiment ! 
 Fancy roast beef a cure for love-sickness ! And 
 a doctor's serious professional visits in lieu of the 
 stimulus of Percy Earle's society ! 
 
 " Please excuse me for being frivolous, Jack. 
 I'll do my best for Marion." 
 
 Not a suspicion, not a dawning of the truth 
 upon Jack yet Jack who sees these people almost 
 every day ! 
 
 My days were one long festa while father 
 remained. Everybody I ever met called upon 
 me, whether I owed her a visit or not, and paid 
 homage, very gracefully, very deferentially, at 
 the shrine of a genuine " Count." The title flew 
 
 17
 
 258 Dainty Devils. 
 
 through the atmosphere at the rate of a dozen 
 times a minute and so unctuously that frequently 
 I almost gasped at the change in the manners of 
 my formerly cool and critical acquaintances. 
 Nor were they content at overwhelming father 
 with adulation: the Count's daughter came in 
 for a rush of compliments and sweetness which 
 would have been very lovely and agreeable, had 
 I not known that the assumption of this attitude 
 was too sudden to be trusted, and too extreme 
 to last. 
 
 At times I tried to swallow such remarks as 
 " Your beautiful daughter, Count, has won all 
 our hearts," and " Such talent seldom goes with 
 so much beauty, Count von Waldeck, now really, 
 you know." I found, however, I was not fool 
 enough. 
 
 A frightful-looking epistle from Lame Ann 
 unexpectedly took father away from us. With 
 the exercise of superhuman patience towards the 
 vagaries of Ann's brain and Ann's pen, we 
 gleaned that Uncle Dalton had been thrown from 
 his horse and seriously injured. That news 
 caused father to pack at once and rush for the 
 next train to Graytown. I could have shaken 
 Ann when the telegram came from father say- 
 ing, " Ann exaggerated. Uncle doing well. 
 Very slightly hurt." 
 
 Not but what I am grateful that Nunk is all
 
 January. 259 
 
 right. What a stalwart " Man of God " he is, 
 when I compare him with the Curate of St. 
 Clara's ! To be appreciated, one must be brought 
 into proper contrast, and Uncle Dalton and that 
 Curate form the most ideal light and shade a 
 master ever drew. 
 
 Marion came into my room and dropped upon 
 the couch. 
 
 I put down the book I was reading, and stared 
 speechlessly, mentally repeating the last sentence 
 I had read, with a vague intention of not losing 
 my place through this unexpected visitant. 
 
 " Do you mean, ' When did I come ? ' " she 
 asked, smiling in a sick sort of fashion as she 
 unfastened her jacket. 
 
 " I didn't hear the bell," I said, coming to 
 myself and jumping up to kiss her. " Are you 
 deadly tired or what, Marion dear ? " 
 
 " Yes, tired, Dot. That's all." 
 
 I surveyed her severely plain serge frock and 
 the blue felt sailor. They always bear their 
 own message. 
 
 " Your costume suggests the Salvation Army, 
 somewhat," I said, very crossly. " I judge you 
 come from the Mission." 
 
 " Yes. What makes you so acrid in voice and
 
 260 Dainty Devils. 
 
 manner? Would you rather I'd been playing 
 bridge?" 
 
 I caught her by the shoulders, and holding her 
 back against the cushions, gazed sharply at her. 
 
 " I know something about those who play 
 bridge, and so do you ; and never before have 
 we broached the subject, you and I alone to- 
 gether. What makes you speak of bridge, now? 
 You know very well that I'm positive you would 
 never take a hand." 
 
 The girl laughed uneasily, and her glance fell. 
 
 " Let me up, Dot and come play an accompani- 
 ment for me ; won't you ? " Music comes next 
 to praying with Marion. 
 
 " No ; I don't feel like playing, and neither do 
 you, Marion. Tell me what ails you, or go 
 home." 
 
 I let go Marion's shoulders and sat down be- 
 side her. She turned her eyes, full of doubt and 
 distress, upon me. 
 
 " Dot you know mother had Neddie Lawrence 
 sent to New York ? " 
 
 " Yes, you told me He wanted a start." 
 
 " Well " she paused, flushed, threw her head 
 up high and continued in a strangely challeng- 
 ing voice : " He got started on an unfortunate 
 road." 
 
 " Oh I see bridge ! " 
 
 " You're laconic but the one word will cover
 
 January. 261 
 
 considerable of his sins, as they're all accessory 
 to bridge and poker." Marion pressed her lips 
 together, and her sweet face took on an unfamil- 
 iar look of severity. " I think, Dot, that several 
 women we know ought to be electrocuted," she 
 said, solemnly ; " I think I could turn on the cur- 
 rent myself." 
 
 A perverse resentment, because Lou and Belle 
 were brought up like Jack's sisters, forced me 
 to respond to this ferocious remark of my gentle 
 Marion. 
 
 " That's eminently Christian ! " 
 
 " I admit it's wicked," she returned gravely, 
 and then sighed with her whole heart. " Poor 
 unfortunate Neddie ! " 
 
 " You don't mean Marion, is he in trouble ? " 
 
 " Yes, Dot, and has been for some time. He 
 asked me for money once, and I gave it for 
 mother's sake, as he admitted he was in the kind 
 of debt he wouldn't care to explain to mother. 
 He promised not to become involved again." 
 
 Marion rose and began to walk about the 
 room. Her actions were so unlike her habitual 
 queenly calm that I wondered what would come 
 next. 
 
 " He's become involved again and owes a great 
 many people." 
 
 I felt a hot blush spreading over my face. 
 Marion had not been at Robertsons' that Sunday
 
 262 Dainty Devils. 
 
 night, nor had she heard and seen Percy when 
 he gave Lawrence a hundred dollars. I had also 
 successfully resisted the temptation to tell her the 
 story. As I sat silent and confused, Marion, 
 cleverer than most, was not oblivious of my em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 " You know something, Dot," she cried, dart- 
 ing over to me. 
 
 " Hardly anything, Marion Oh, really ! I 
 I know Neddie Lawrence plays cards for money, 
 certainly." 
 
 " And he " struggling bravely with gathering 
 tears, " drinks to excess A boy who never tasted 
 wine nor wished to taste it, while he was at 
 home!" 
 
 She stopped, biting her lips, and turning away 
 from me. I waited in mute sympathy, and 
 wished that I had Mrs. Robertson there so that 
 I might pinch her. 
 
 " Dot, I was talking to the women at the Mis- 
 sion to-day about the evils of intoxication, 
 when there was a sudden commotion at the door. 
 Greatly annoyed, I turned from the class and saw 
 a policeman trying to keep a young man from 
 entering." 
 
 The look in her eyes made me gasp: 
 
 "It wasn't Neddie?" 
 
 " It was it was dreadfully intoxicated and
 
 January. 263 
 
 saying he must see his cousin, Miss LaGrange. 
 Oh, Dot ! " 
 
 Proud Marion ! I groaned in horror. 
 
 " The women all stood up, staring and laugh- 
 ing, and shouted, ' Oh, get out ! Don't yer be 
 afraid of the loafer, Miss LaGrange ! ' Then 
 Neddie swore and struck at the officer, who took 
 his club" 
 
 At this point Marion broke down completely 
 and sobbed. 
 
 " And what did you do ? " I asked faintly, lay- 
 ing my cheek against the heaving shoulder. 
 " You poor darling, Marion ! " 
 
 " I hardly know, Dot. Of course the officer 
 is well acquainted with all those who work at 
 the Mission, and I told him to get the young 
 man outside and wait for me. There was a 
 scuffle ; the women enjoyed the scene immensely. 
 I dismissed them as soon as Neddie and the offi- 
 cer no longer blocked the way." 
 
 " What on earth did you tell the policeman? " 
 I asked, the disgrace of the whole affair upper- 
 most in my mind. 
 
 Marion straightened up and dried her eyes. 
 
 " The truth," said she, with dignity. " As soon 
 as I came out he said, holding Neddie by the 
 collar, ' You'll come enter a complaint, Miss, 
 for his disturbin' o' the peace ? ' 'No,' I an- 
 swered. ' Neddie, come into the Mission-room
 
 264 Dainty Devils. 
 
 with me.' The policeman seemed electrified. 
 Neddie looked like a whipped dog. ' He is a 
 relative of mine,' I told the astonished Irishman. 
 ' A boy from the country I'll look out for him.' " 
 
 Marion's voice died away; emotion had ex- 
 hausted her. 
 
 " Oh, Marion, you are wonderfully good ! . I 
 would have sent him to the station-house." 
 
 Marion's brown orbs burned me with reproof. 
 
 " No you would not," said she, decidedly ; 
 " cowardice would not make a deplorable matter 
 better. The officer understood it. He said, ' God 
 bless you, Miss, you're a good one,' and walked 
 off calling roughly to the Mission women to go 
 home." 
 
 Marion is ever beyond me. Generally I hum- 
 bly admire her superiority. This time some in- 
 flection of her voice when she said the 
 " officer " understood, hurt me and made me 
 angry. I rocked very fast; my book slid to the 
 floor, striking the wood part with a thud. Mar- 
 ion politely picked up the volume and laid it 
 upon my knee. I did not thank her, and she 
 wonderingly leaned over and looked interroga- 
 tively into my eyes. 
 
 " Are you angry, Dot ? Why, what did I 
 say?" 
 
 " Nothing. You seemed somehow to be preach-
 
 January. 265 
 
 ing. Never mind ! What did you do with Ned- 
 die?" 
 
 " Not much," dejectedly. " He came for 
 money, of course. I had only a couple of dollars 
 with me, and told him so. Then he said he was 
 afraid of mother, and that he must get the money 
 by some means. Poor mother! She thought 
 that Neddie might be like her own son ! " 
 
 A swift thought brought the tears to my eyes. 
 What must it be to have a mother! I had not 
 known mine. Lame Ann was the substitute 
 I had loved and obeyed. How might I have 
 worshipped that Margaret Dare of whom uncle 
 and father spoke at long intervals with few and 
 reverent words ! Some new sympathy, some 
 intangible influence of my dead mother, softened 
 my heart into a burst of emotion, and I found 
 myself crying hard before I quite knew what for. 
 Very remorsefully indeed, I clung to Marion's 
 hand. 
 
 " Oh, Marion ! I'm sorry I haven't been nicer 
 while you told me these things. I know my life 
 is dreadfully selfish, and I'm not fit to tie your 
 shoe" 
 
 " For goodness sake, Dot, quit ! You're the 
 best child that ever lived, and you've had an 
 awful winter, getting used to the wretched peo- 
 ple in your set. Don't you suppose I've seen 
 and heard ? Don't I know you'll do great things
 
 266 Dainty Devils. 
 
 when you're broken in, as it were, and a little 
 older and stronger? Haven't I seen your trials 
 with the meanness and jealousy of the women 
 who meant Jack to marry their sisters or daugh- 
 ters or cousins? You poor little thing! I'll 
 wager you're ten pounds lighter than when you 
 entered this house as its mistress." 
 
 My sobs grew bitter indeed under the encour- 
 agement of these words of Marion. Curious 
 that we never realize how much we are suffer- 
 ing till some one puts our miseries into words ! 
 There are people who have the inherent faculty 
 of sitting down out of themselves, if you will 
 and contemplating and commiserating their 
 own woes. Not being gifted in that way, it took 
 Marion to bring home to me the full sense of 
 my social martyrdom. So I wept heartily. 
 
 " Mother and I often speak of you, Dot, and 
 of how well you have stood your initiation." Mar- 
 ion's tone was delightfully sympathetic, and her 
 gentle hands were softly stroking my hair. 
 
 I dried my eyes. Marion's words were detach- 
 ing themselves into groups. One sentence espe- 
 cially reiterated itself persistently in my mind : 
 " Women who meant Jack to marry their sisters 
 or daughters or cousins." Here was the cause 
 of much of the snubbing and sarcasm : I had 
 taken the prize from them. Jack was a " match " 
 of which any woman might be proud. I sighed
 
 January. 267 
 
 understandingly, and a great satisfaction flooded 
 my heart. Was not Jack worth the envy and 
 spite of all the world, let alone a few women who 
 begrudged him and his wealth to me ? 
 
 In my selfish digression, Marion and her 
 mother and Neddie Lawrence were for a moment 
 forgotten. Marion's rising and adjusting her 
 hat it was a solidified equation of self-denial, 
 and detracted somewhat even from Marion's 
 beauty, which is of the kind that has no need of 
 frills brought me back to her distress. 
 
 " Marion, if I could only do something ! 
 Where is Neddie now? Are you sure he will 
 not go to your mother ?" 
 
 " I lectured him a little he was maudlin and 
 disgusting," Marion added, her tone showing 
 that her superfine conscience condemned her for 
 using the word. " All I could accomplish was 
 the solemn promise to go straight to his room. 
 Even then I could not trust him : so I walked 
 uptown with him till I could get a cab and then 
 I took him home." 
 
 Fancy stately Marion walking the streets with 
 that intoxicated boy ! My heart gave a most in- 
 dignant throb at the thought. Remembering the 
 " officer " who " understood," I merely asked : 
 
 " Who will give him the money ?" 
 
 Marion looked away, out of the window. In 
 a very low tone, she answered,
 
 268 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " I had the amount in my desk, and I sent it 
 by a messenger-boy with a note saying this was 
 the last time I should help him." 
 
 " Was it right to send it ? " I ventured, rather 
 timidly. 
 
 " I don't know. It's only for mother's sake, 
 and because he was good until he knew Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson and her chums." 
 
 Marion's voice trembled with excitement. Her 
 words again stabbed me Jack's cousin was one 
 of the chums. 
 
 " Tell me, Marion You know many more peo- 
 ple than I do are they all as bad as Mrs. Robert- 
 son and the rest ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't ask me. Some are very good. 
 Only they seem so few just now ! They are few. 
 I cannot help the uncharitableness it may seem 
 to say so." 
 
 " I hate Mrs. Robertson !" I said, vehemently. 
 "If she's not the worst of the party, she's the 
 oldest, and has the greatest influence over the 
 others." 
 
 " There is no use talking about her. The only 
 thing would be to get Neddie back to the country. 
 But he won't go of that I'm certain. He told 
 me the country was too dead slow for a man with 
 any sport in him, and that he was having a bully 
 good time, only luck was against him at cards.
 
 January. 269 
 
 Of course, he had no idea how he was talking," 
 Marion concluded apologetically. 
 
 " It's all villainous ! And, Marion, I should 
 think you'd die at the thought of facing that 
 Mission-class next time." 
 
 " I shall not think about it. It was chokingly 
 hard for a few moments, but now I'm over it." 
 
 Marion smiled that brave forced smile which 
 I hate, and with a kiss left me. My book failed 
 to chain my interest after she had gone. Neddie 
 Lawrence forced himself in front of the heroine, 
 and meagre as his proportions are, he is so very 
 real and miserable that he eliminated the possi- 
 bility of seeing the " tall, slender maiden " who 
 played golf, and fell in and out of love most 
 comfortably, from cover to cover. The longer 
 I thought of the case, the blacker Mrs. Robertson 
 appeared. Bridge-whist and poker seemed the 
 very incarnation of crime and wickedness ; and 
 for me, Mrs. Robertson was their accredited High 
 Priestess. 
 
 My head began to ache wearily. I clasped 
 my hands over my forehead and pressed back 
 the slow, throbbing pain which I have so often 
 lately. Probably the ache comes from the effort 
 of my dull brain to penetrate the absorbing mys- 
 teries of the lives about me. I am not good like 
 Marion, and I have no right to denounce other 
 people. Am I simply narrow and ignorant and
 
 270 Dainty Devils. 
 
 limited? Maybe my judgment and criticisms of 
 the individuals I know are more sinful than their 
 card-playing and flirting and drinking. Dear 
 me, I am growing morbid ! I know I am, because 
 last night, at the Fortnightly, I suddenly had a 
 ghastly vision of the grave-yard back of Uncle 
 Dalton's church, with its significant mounds 
 under the snow, and for a moment it seemed 
 to me that the gay crowd in the ball room were 
 doing the " Two-Step " over those same grim, 
 cold, white graves. I know I shivered, and Jack 
 brought me a wrap, but the room was melting 
 hot, and I was chilly only through imagination 
 which kept away the laughter and electric light 
 and the smooth floor, and left me these gayly- 
 dressed people still dancing in the cold moonlight 
 over the mournful mounds ; profound silence in- 
 stead of the music; and for a background the 
 black, motionless pines which used to frighten 
 me at night when I was little and Lame Ann 
 had taken me over to Uncle Dalton's for tea 
 because father had gone to Boston to spend the 
 day, and she would not bother to get supper 
 for only me. 
 
 In the warmth and comfort of my room, I 
 again found myself shivering. Was I going to 
 be ill, or what ? I longed for Jack to come home. 
 He had said he would be late; there was some 
 panic in Wall Street, and he would stay as long
 
 January. 271 
 
 as others did. I concluded, lonesomely, that 
 there was a worse panic in my heart, and dis- 
 covered I was sobbing. 
 
 " Oh Jack ! Come home, come home ! " 
 
 ******* 
 
 It was an evening for which we had three en- 
 gagements, only I had a small cold and a big 
 attack of nerves, so when Dr. Stanton said I had 
 better stop at home, Jack warmly approved. I 
 could not fail to see that he was pleased at the 
 prospect of an evening alone in my society, and 
 I felt much gratified for a while. Dinner over, 
 my throat grew worse, my head began to ache, 
 the blues deepened fearfully, and I presently 
 forgot that Jack's satisfaction about being at 
 home alone with me, was decidedly complimen- 
 tary and deserving of appreciation. Twice I 
 answered his questions irrelevantly ; then Jack 
 sat in silence and clouds of tobacco-smoke for 
 what was probably a good while, because when he 
 suddenly spoke, I very unpleasantly jumped. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Jack." 
 
 " You're exceedingly nervous, Dot. What ails 
 you?" 
 
 " Nothing except New York." It was pro- 
 voking to have started so, and a trifle of acidity 
 might have been detected in my voice. 
 
 " Is it so bad as that, dear ? In that case we 
 ought to go off somewhere."
 
 272 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Jack had suggested the popular cure for every- 
 thing in New York. It is a wonder that people 
 who have not the money to go, and are forced 
 to stay, get over things about as well ! 
 
 " No, I don't want to ; we're home so short 
 a time; let's not begin to be wandering Arabs, 
 like the people around us. It seems to me a sin to 
 shut up beautiful big houses and live all over 
 creation. And besides, disagreeable experiences 
 are probably salutary for me." 
 
 This heroic sentiment was of the lips, not the 
 heart. Jack tenderly patted me. He is at times 
 delightfully motherly. 
 
 " Why dwell upon the disagreeable things ? 
 Can't you linger on the pleasant side? Our 
 happiness, for instance?" 
 
 I fancied there was a note of reproach in Jack's 
 tone, and sensitive as I have become of late, 
 began inanely to cry. 
 
 " Dot, Dot ! What am I to do with you ?" 
 
 Perhaps it was only discouragement, but I 
 thought the question savored of impatience. I 
 believe a cross husband would soon kill me. 
 
 "Oh, don't scold me! I can't stand it," I 
 wailed. 
 
 " This will never do ; I think you hardly know 
 what you are saying." Jack dropped my hand 
 and rose to his feet. 
 
 " Qh, what a way to speak to me !" Jack had
 
 January. 273 
 
 never looked as he did that minute, all the time 
 I had known him. While really crying, I was 
 not so overcome but that I could peek through 
 my fingers at him all the time. 
 
 " If you were satisfied with me, you couldn't 
 get so down-hearted, no matter what happened." 
 Such a cold, judicial tone from Jack, was mad- 
 dening. 
 
 " Oh-oh-oh !" I threw myself down into the 
 cushions upon the couch, too crushed to think 
 of peeking any longer. " If it were day time 
 I'd go home to father !" 
 
 I wonder how many wives threaten to go 
 home to father " or mother" every day ? And 
 what percentage of these would be welcome to 
 " father "or " mother " ? 
 
 " Thank you !" 
 
 I glanced up hastily. Jack never swears, main- 
 taining that swearing is a form of cowardice, 
 but he looked exactly as though he meant " Damn 
 it !" He said not a syllable beyond the two words 
 of sarcastic gratitude. I was hurt to the quick 
 and went on recklessly : 
 
 " You are quite welcome. I thought you'd be 
 glad to get rid of me." What an insolent lie 
 it was ! 
 
 I suppose I expected some denial, some plead- 
 ing and petting. Slowly paling, Jack gazed at 
 me a second or two. I quivered and sobbed 
 
 18
 
 274 Dainty Devils. 
 
 tearlessly, confidently expecting to drop my head 
 directly upon his solacing shoulder. Instead I 
 saw Jack turn upon his heel and leave me. I 
 blinked in amazement. At first I was not fright- 
 ened. I was only angrier than in the beginning. 
 It was the sound of the hall-door closing that 
 brought me hurriedly to my feet. 
 
 " Jack ! Jack !" I called, wildly. 
 
 It was no use. Jack had gone out. He had 
 run away from me, his wife. I flew to the closet 
 where his hats and coats are kept. Derbys,top- 
 hats, Alpines, visor-caps Yes, the brown derby 
 was missing. And my heart stood still the 
 night was bitter cold but Jack had gone out with- 
 out a coat. Driven out of the house by me ! Oh, 
 what should I do? Why did I not die when I 
 was born ? Why had I not rushed after Jack and 
 kept him from going out? 
 
 I returned to the library, and passionately wept. 
 How long had Jack been away? What if he 
 never came back? Or took pneumonia? Oh, he 
 must come now ! Where had he gone ? I had 
 not meant what I said. How could he misunder- 
 stand his devoted wife? If he only had put 
 on a coat? Stout people catch cold so easily, 
 and had I not heard that their hearts nearly 
 always gave out if they contracted pneumonia? 
 Oh, I should go crazy! This was indeed genu-
 
 January. 275 
 
 ine wretchedness. If he did not come soon there 
 would be an end of me. 
 
 Unable to cry any longer, I ran into the hall, 
 and paced up and down, straining my ears at every 
 sound, in hope that I should hear Jack upon the 
 steps. How horribly wicked I had been ! Had 
 I not tortured Jack for several weeks past by my 
 despondency and irritability? Had I not been 
 lacking even in those outward demonstrations 
 of affection which, while they are not essential 
 to a happy life, certainly help it along consider- 
 ably ? My soul wilted under the misery of the 
 thought that for more than a week I had been 
 too pre-occupied to pet poor Jack at all. Dear 
 Jack, the best man that ever walked this earth ! 
 And now he had left me ! 
 
 A servant appeared. I slipped quickly into 
 Jack's den, ashamed to be caught racing through 
 the hall. Tenderly and with a big lump in my 
 throat, I touched Jacks' ash-receiver and his 
 cigar-cutter. They were precious, they were a 
 consolation, because Jack's fingers so often held 
 them. Faithful, inanimate servants, they had 
 never offended him ! Would he ever again use 
 them? The agony of the question! 
 
 Hark ! The bell had rung. If it should be a 
 caller and not Jack ! I would risk it I must 
 I was choking with a combination of dread and 
 contrition. The door was opened ; no one spoke.
 
 276 Dainty Devils. 
 
 A visitor would be obliged to say something. 
 How many seconds did it take the servant to be 
 out of hearing? Surely I had waited long 
 enough. With a mad rush I darted out of the 
 room, and screamed softly as I found myself 
 caught in Jack's arms. 
 
 " Oh, Jack," I cried, clinging to him convul- 
 sively, " I was awful, and I am so sorry !" 
 
 " My darling ! I was a fool and a brute. I 
 ought to be sorry, and I am. You're tired out 
 and ill, and I made no allowance for you, poor 
 child.'- Jack's repentant kisses fell fast. 
 
 " I thought you might never come back," I 
 whispered, fearfully. " Is it hours since you 
 left?" 
 
 " Fifteen minutes, dear. Did you worry so 
 much as that? It makes me sick to think how 
 ridiculous I was." 
 
 By this time I was on Jack's knee, in the cozy 
 den, rubbing his poor, cold hands. 
 
 " What made you go out, Jack ? I was 
 naughty, but your punishment was very cruel." 
 
 " I thought Don't make me tell it, Dot." 
 
 " Yes, you must. Anyway, I know." 
 
 " No, you don't. It was because I thought 
 you didn't care for me any more." Jack's grav- 
 ity was almost comical. 
 
 " That's just what I meant. How could you, 
 Jack?"
 
 January. 277 
 
 I grew silent, struck unpleasantly by a new 
 thought. 
 
 " I don't know how I could, except, as I said, 
 because I was temporarily a fool. What makes 
 you so serious now?" He raised my chin and 
 smiled into my eyes. 
 
 " Jack," I said, regretfully, " do you know we 
 have had our first quarrel?" 
 
 Jack sighed heavily, the smile completely mur- 
 dered. 
 
 " I fear we shall have to call it that," said he. 
 
 " Well," earnestly, " let's never have another." 
 
 " Agreed, Dot." 
 
 And we kissed and were even if some people 
 may not understand what I mean solemnly 
 happy for the rest of the evening. Nevertheless 
 I wish we had never had the sad experience of 
 each other's tempers. It could all have been 
 so easily avoided If either one of us had had 
 a wee bit more patience and common sense! 
 I am positive that many big troubles between 
 husbands and wives commence with some such 
 foolish, trifling things at the start. In my opin- 
 ion the sweetest " make-up " that ever happened, 
 is not worth the sting, the selfishness and the 
 wretchedness, of a quarrel. 
 
 We sat talking till very late, and in spite of an 
 uninterrupted flow of affectionate eloquence, Jack 
 impressed me as having a reserved something
 
 278 Dainty Devils. 
 
 upon his mind, which he fain would communi- 
 cate. 
 
 We had not been long upstairs when out came 
 the matter: 
 
 " I met Arnold Allison on the street, Dot." 
 
 " Yes," I responded, for Jack paused as though 
 expecting me to speak. 
 
 " He was walking so rapidly and recklessly 
 that we collided at the corner. I began to apol- 
 ogize to the supposed stranger when the electric 
 light made us plain to each other." Here Jack 
 hesitated perceptibly, and glanced at me in 
 alarmed haste. 
 
 " I I'm afraid I looked pretty queer, Dot, 
 because, as I mentally noted Allison's pallor 
 and distracted expression, he cried out : ' My 
 God ! Woodward, are you getting it, too ?' " 
 
 I know I frowned furiously. What business 
 had Jack to go out with the advertisement of our 
 first difficulty stamped upon his face? I should 
 rather he would have Yes, I should struck 
 me, provided we had been alone, than have an 
 inkling of our foolish quarrel become known to 
 our friends. 
 
 " What did you say ? " I asked, very haughtily, 
 considering the beautiful humility I had displayed 
 since Jack's return. 
 
 "What did I say?" Jack echoed. "Why of 
 course, I asked him what on earth he meant ?"
 
 January. 279 
 
 " And he said ?" I prompted, much relieved. 
 
 " He laughed like a fiend, Dot, and answered 
 that if I didn't know, it must be all right." 
 
 " It is all right," I declared, decidedly. " And 
 we'll never be such idots again. Did he tell you 
 what troubled him, Jack?" 
 
 " No : he bolted after exclaiming that it was 
 all right." Jack paused, meditating. " Dot, do 
 you know whether Lou has been less interested 
 in Allison than usual, lately ? Since she returned 
 from her trip?" 
 
 I returned Jack's penetrating scrutiny squarely. 
 
 " Lou has been home only a few days. I 
 know nothing new. I fancied you knew nothing, 
 either new or old. As for Allison, I can't make 
 him out." 
 
 " Can you make Lou out ?" 
 
 My glance fell. What should I answer? 
 
 " I don't know, Jack." That is the safest 
 answer in all situations and under all circum- 
 stances. Only sometimes it is cowardly and half 
 a lie the resource of social sneaks. 
 
 " You must have some opinion in the matter," 
 Jack insisted, pulling his moustache as if his life 
 depended upon the exercise. 
 
 " I think, dear, that Lou is charming and fas- 
 cinating and devilish." 
 
 Jack was not shocked at the last word, much
 
 280 Dainty Devils. 
 
 to my surprise, for he is one of those men who 
 think no ugly word should cross feminine lips. 
 
 " You wouldn't trust Lou, Dot ?" 
 
 "Oh, dear! What do you mean by trust? 
 I'm deadly tired and can't think logically any 
 more." 
 
 Jack deeply sighed. Lou and Belle are the 
 same as sisters in his affections, and neither one 
 could be anything but a trial and an affliction to 
 a brother who loved her. I think adoptions are 
 breathlessly risky, even if everyone concerned is 
 in the family. 
 
 " We must hope for the best," said Jack, pa- 
 thetically cheerful. " After all, Allison may 
 have had a bad attack of indigestion this evening. 
 ' It ' is enormously indefinite." 
 
 I am sure Jack meant me to say that his own 
 guilty conscience had caused him to give a serious 
 interpretation to Allison's words. So far I have 
 not enough conventional polish to instantaneously 
 fill the part another thrusts upon me. The ac- 
 complishment is, I allow, a valuable one to those 
 who can (while putting on the external polish) 
 succeed in shading the inconvenient lamp accom- 
 panying our reason, and known as conscience: 
 Its light is relentless and pierces through veneer 
 in a manner calculated to daunt the boldest 
 believer in his own shams. Such a lamp must 
 be covered, hidden, extinguished best of all,
 
 January. 281 
 
 thrown away when one enters the arena where 
 the prizes of society are awarded. There is light 
 there plenty of it glaring, artificial light, which 
 greets artificial polish as a near relation, and 
 bathes it in a blaze of radiance. Only the light 
 which God has given, the lamp which Heaven 
 has filled, conscience, sensitive and clean, 
 is the worst sort of superfluity for the indivi- 
 dual entering the contest for social success. If 
 one cannot even fib promptly and to the point, 
 what is the use of attempting anything more 
 advanced? One who does not know his alpha- 
 bet, must not try to write an essay. 
 
 The power for evil in intellect stripped of con- 
 science, is immeasurable. The potency for good 
 in a conscience quickened by the stupidest mind 
 is undoubtedly, at least before God and the 
 angels, also illimitable. Probably I am not at 
 all clever, so let me find consolation and grati- 
 tude in the reflection that I possess an abundance 
 of inconvenient old-fashioned conscience. 
 
 Jack had waited some time for me to say more. 
 At last he spoke : 
 
 " You don't want to discuss the question, Dot ? 
 Well, never mind." 
 
 Lou is not worth such a deep, deep sigh, as 
 I heard Jack breathe.
 
 FEBRUARY. 
 
 It was a most forsaken morning, pouring rain, 
 and the side-walks, houses and everything, jet 
 black with the wet. The lights were turned on 
 for breakfast, and a sleepy feeling made us 
 absent-minded and untalkative, as if we had been 
 summoned to the table in the middle of the night. 
 Jack, after somnolency had somewhat decreased, 
 had the absorbing distraction of the newspaper, 
 leaving me to desultorily open notes and invita- 
 tions, and wonder how many I should have to 
 answer at once. I was so numb and listless 
 that Jack's departure passed almost unnoted, in- 
 stead of calling forth tender complaints at the 
 cruel order of things which has created a " down- 
 town " to which the majority of men flock every 
 morning in many cases, I believe, mutely grate- 
 ful for the obligation. 
 
 A victim of late to pricks of conscience induced 
 by long neglect of practising, I roused sufficient 
 ambition to begin some scales upon the violin. 
 One dances to the music of a violin, and I sup- 
 pose it is therefore capable of joyous strains. 
 
 282
 
 February. 283 
 
 For me it is the best medium for the expression 
 of sadness and loneliness, doubt and dread. I 
 wandered from the salutary scales into a maze 
 of musical scraps, all slow, minor, quivering with 
 misery. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Dot, quit ! " 
 
 " Lou ! I never heard you. Isn't the weather 
 awful?" 
 
 Lou dropped a wet coat and a wetter hat upon 
 a chair. 
 
 She did not seem to notice my kiss. 
 
 " I believe it is. I hadn't stopped to consider." 
 
 " Has anything happened, Lou ? And did 
 you walk here without an umbrella?" 
 
 " Nothing has happened. Your doleful selec- 
 tion of music exasperated me, that's all. It 
 sounded like Arnold's." 
 
 The remark grated upon me. 
 
 " Shall we go upstairs ?" I asked, coldly. 
 " Probably it will seem less dreary than down 
 here." 
 
 I carefully put away my violin, tucking in the 
 silk handkerchief very tenderly. The instrument 
 had responded to my mood. Lou was an inhar- 
 monious interruption. 
 
 "'Oh, no! All places are alike to me at pres- 
 ent. And I've been talking to my lawyer for the 
 last hour, so one flight of stairs is too much ex- 
 ertion for my exhausted nerves. Do you know
 
 284 Dainty Devils. 
 
 anything about law, Dot ?" Lou frowned whim- 
 sically at me. 
 
 " No ; or at least so little that it isn't worth 
 mentioning." 
 
 Lou laughed, much to my relief, as frowns do 
 not become her. 
 
 " Oh, well, you won't ever need to know more, 
 most likely. It's immensely interesting. Given 
 a clever lawyer, one can get in or out of any- 
 thing." 
 
 Completely at a loss as to the trend of Lou's 
 thoughts, I made no attempt to refute her alarm- 
 ing assertion. She suddenly darted to the win- 
 dow. 
 
 " There goes Mrs. Robertson. I should know 
 her gaudy equipage if I met it in Hades. I say 
 Dot ! Have you any idea what goblin has got 
 her?" 
 
 " Why?" I asked, putting some music in order. 
 
 " She's going around with a set face, and isn't 
 eating anything like her proper rations. Belle 
 had a note from her saying she's dreadfully hard 
 up for money and won't Belle please pay her 
 last winnings at once? Jingo! If I had a rich 
 old idiot for a mother, and she was as stingy 
 as hers, I'd poison her coffee some morning, if 
 there was no other way of getting at the mil- 
 lions !" 
 
 " Lou, you're not like yourself this morning."
 
 February. 285 
 
 " Am I not ? I'm so glad you have warned 
 me. You see I got weak and tired at the 
 lawyer's and he recommended a high-ball to 
 steady me. So I stopped at Blanks' and had one 
 on the way up. It must have been a very heavy 
 one, because I'm sort of dizzy and can just about 
 recognize people, and that's all. I have," laugh- 
 ing boisterously, " an uncontrollable desire to 
 talk." 
 
 A sensation of supreme disgust came over 
 me. Then the recollection of the name Belle St. 
 John often derisively called me, " Pharisee", 
 stung me into repentant patience. 
 
 " What a horrid man," I said, endeavoring to 
 give him all the blame, " to advise a woman to 
 drink whiskey !" 
 
 " Not at all, dear ; the advice was most kind 
 and timely. Why should a woman have to live 
 under the old-fashioned constraint which defined 
 one set of ethics for men, and a different one for 
 her? We want men's freedom and men's privi- 
 leges, even though some of their bothersome re- 
 sponsibilities have to be thrown in. I'm glad I 
 didn't live before the days I could go into a place 
 for a drink if I wanted to. Not," she volubly rat- 
 tled on, " that the particular department of alco- 
 holic beverages especially appeals to me. That's 
 more in Belle's line."
 
 286 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Would you mind sitting down, Lou ? You 
 fatigue me." 
 
 " Dot upon her dignity ! As you used to be 
 perpetually when we first knew each other. I 
 didn't come to stay." 
 
 " You'd better at least, Lou, till you've di- 
 gested that high-ball. Come up to my room and 
 lie down." 
 
 " No, you don't. I'm not so far gone that I 
 need to sleep it off. Dot, I came to ask a favor." 
 
 Lou leaned against the piano and solemnly 
 studied my face. For me the room was decidedly 
 chilly, but Lou was flushed and over-heated from 
 indulgence in the early stimulant. 
 
 " You may ask as many as you please." 
 
 " And you'll grant me as many as you please ? 
 Really, you've grown amazingly saucy and 
 wily. Dot, wouldn't you always take my part?" 
 Her beautiful teeth flashed in a confident smile. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," I answered, 
 vaguely troubled. 
 
 " Oh, in a row or an argument, or any old 
 thing?" 
 
 " Are you in a row?" 
 
 " Patience ! You're worse than a lawyer. I 
 mean wouldn't you make a small sacrifice, put 
 yourself out a bit, to get me out of trouble? I'd 
 do as much for you, I swear." 
 
 Mystified, I watched Lou growing redder as
 
 February. 287 
 
 she thumped the piano excitedly. How very 
 potent a high-ball must be ! 
 
 " I'd do anything I could, Lou, provided it was 
 honest." 
 
 " Oh, the deuce ! Well, it would be honest, 
 of course." 
 
 She seemed to expect a reiteration of my words. 
 I remained silent, concluding that her random 
 talk was not to be taken seriously. Lou brought 
 her fist down hard upon my violin-case. 
 
 " In the hour of need," said she, mockingly 
 grave, " do we discover who are our true friends. 
 I'll still bet on you, Dot." 
 
 I had nothing to say. I wished very sincerely 
 that my violin practice had not been interrupted. 
 Suddenly, after quite a pause, during which I 
 listened nervously to the beating, spattering, driv- 
 ing rain, so soothing, so annoying, according to 
 our chance mood, Lou darted to the piano and 
 began to play and sing, " Coon, Coon, Coon !" 
 
 She has a clear staccato touch, and the kind 
 of ringing voice which is best adapted to rag- 
 time. Rolling her eyes, grinning so that her 
 teeth were visible in all their glory, nodding her 
 black head at petrified me, she flew along in a 
 whirl of sound and motion. Abruptly she 
 stopped. I started as the silence struck me. Lou 
 rising from the piano was her pale, sobered self. 
 The change was marvelous.
 
 288 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " That was a dirge to my wasted youth," she 
 said, quietly. " My kind of a dirge. I am thirty, 
 Dot, but I'll be happy yet." 
 
 Lou straightened the fulness in her red blouse, 
 picked up her hat and told me to go back to my 
 practising. Mechanically I helped her put on her 
 coat. Like all her clothes, it fitted her to crease- 
 less perfection, and despite dampness and limp- 
 ness, Lou stood before me a model of finished 
 elegance. Only pre-occupied indifference was in 
 her face ; flush, impishness, and all traces of a 
 high-ball were gone. 
 
 " How pretty you are, Lou !" I exclaimed, in- 
 voluntarily. 
 
 "Think so? I'm too thin, but thank you all 
 the same." 
 
 " Won't you wait and let me telephone to the 
 stable?" 
 
 " No, for goodness' sake. I want the walk in 
 the pour. It's good for the skin, and I haven't 
 any rheumatism." 
 
 " Are you going home ?" 
 
 " Yep No Let me see ! Yes, I think I will. 
 May I use your phone?" 
 
 "Of course. Why this sudden formality ? " 
 
 Lou's laugh fills in all pauses, embarrassments 
 and unspoken replies. A gay peal answered me 
 and she rushed to the instrument.
 
 February. 289 
 
 I tried not to listen honestly I did and I paid 
 no attention till I heard : 
 
 " Yes, my house at two. I'm dying of the 
 blues. Did you ever see such a day? An en- 
 gagement ?" 
 
 Silence for a few seconds, then my end of the 
 conversation always to one listening so com- 
 ically like a monologue, in which words have 
 become mixed or forgotten was resumed: 
 
 " Break any and all engagements you have. I 
 don't care for the consequences. I shall not 
 touch a mouthful of luncheon till you arrive. 
 You'll come? All right. If you don't, I'll make 
 for the river. Good-bye." 
 
 " Were you talking to Mr. Allison ?" I inquired, 
 severely, as Lou returned to me. 
 
 " Was I ? If you thought I was, why are you 
 so cross about it? See here, Dot, do you fancy 
 any sane person living would take a dose of Alli- 
 son for the blues?" 
 
 " You horrid, wicked woman ! And you made 
 Percy promise to luncheon with you ! " 
 
 " The same time, dear, I give you permission 
 to have Arnold Allison here." This with a deli- 
 cate, attenuated sneer, which galled all the worse 
 because it was so daintily calculated. 
 
 " Oh, Lou, how can you ?" 
 
 She was going, and stopped near the door. 
 
 " I forgot one piece of news, Dot. Addie Lay- 
 
 19
 
 290 Dainty Devils. 
 
 ton has her sixth another boy. Won't it be a 
 relief to have the number changed? Imagine 
 her rendering of the refrain ' Six helpless chil- 
 dren.' Can't you hear her now?" 
 
 " I must send some roses " I said, thinking 
 aloud. 
 
 " No, don't ; Addie threw a boxful at the head 
 of her husband, as I stopped to leave my con- 
 gratulations on the way here." 
 
 " How in the world do you know ?" 
 
 " Oh, the door of her room was open, and I 
 heard her sweet voice altercating, and then the 
 box came over the banister and down the stairs. 
 Poor Layton ran down to explain that Addie 
 was a bit nervous." 
 
 " If only some men weren't such sheep !" I ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Lou eyed me coolly. 
 
 " I presume you allude to Layton and Allison," 
 said she, unemotionally. " And neither one has 
 a lamb for a wife." 
 
 I recalled my unfortunate quarrel with Jack. 
 He is not a sheep but his wife is far from being 
 a lamb. Upon occasion she has come sugges- 
 tively near the category of a goose. 
 
 " Lou," I began, rather meekly, " why do you 
 make yourself out so much worse than you are ?" 
 
 " I never do. You needn't accuse me of that. 
 And see here you won't be shocked by me
 
 February. 291 
 
 much longer. I'm going away again Oh, for 
 an awfully long time in about a fortnight. 
 Some far-off cousins have asked me to Jekyll 
 Island, and I'm going as soon as Blanches! sends 
 my new togs." 
 
 " You're only home from the West about a 
 month. Is Mr. Allison going to Jekyll Island 
 with you ?" 
 
 Lou opened her eyes enormously wide. Then 
 she fairly shrieked with laughter. 
 
 " Arnold going with me ? You may bet all 
 Jack's worth, that he's not. How awfully funny 
 you are, Dot !" 
 
 " I'd rather be funny, as you call it, than un- 
 principled," I hotly returned. " Don't you think 
 a wife has any duties whatever ?" 
 
 " Why !" exclaimed Lou, putting on an exas- 
 peratingly innocent look. " Arnold wouldn't 
 leave his nice times with you, you know, even if 
 I wanted him. Jekyll Island wouldn't have' the 
 ghost of a chance." 
 
 " Oh !" I cried, too angry to get out another 
 syllable. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear little innocent ! If Allison 
 comes, don't send him home early. I trust your 
 power of fascination." 
 
 Another laugh, a kiss, and the door slammed 
 upon her. Probably she had no idea how her 
 words had stung me. Mr. Allison was here verjr
 
 292 Dainty Devils. 
 
 frequently before the Holidays, to play trio-music 
 with Marion and me. Did Lou not understand 
 that music, and music only, was the attraction? 
 Did she not know me? Did she not know Jack? 
 A painful flush rose to my hair. Did others be- 
 sides Lou jest about Mr. Allison's visits at my 
 house? To flirt with anyone outside of Jack, 
 had never been even a temptation. Was I to 
 be punished for believing myself so much better 
 than most of the women I knew ? 
 
 I could no longer practise. I was too aston- 
 ished and angry and alarmed. How dare Lou 
 insinuate, even in fun, that I had been coquetting 
 with her husband? As if Allison would be the 
 kind to infatuate me! What had I been saying 
 to myself? Was I tactily admitting that there 
 were other men with whom I might flirt? No, 
 no, no ! Impossible to make myself so cheap. I 
 love Jack dearly, and I am tremendously proud 
 of him, and he is certainly good to me. // / 
 hated him and had made a wretched mistake, I 
 should value myself too highly to acknowledge 
 such a miserable state of affairs to the world, by 
 seeking the diversion of a flirtation with some 
 one else. 
 
 I am very fond of Mr. Allison, and should not 
 hesitate to tell Lou so. Were he disposed to 
 flirt, I am much too old-fashioned to admire him 
 as I do now. His passiveness about his wife's
 
 February. 293 
 
 'foolish conduct has frequently angered me, par- 
 ticularly at first, when I judged from the sur- 
 face of things, and believed Allison as free from 
 emotion as his absolute self-possession might in- 
 dicate. Lately I understand him differently 
 although I still feel I am far from knowing him 
 and often fancy that sudden flashes of deep 
 feeling escape him, without his suspecting the 
 fact. Before I recover from the surprise, he is 
 Allison again. And, longing to be his friend, 
 I am far off somewhere in the field of acquain- 
 tances, with the sensation of having been cour- 
 teously and coldly told, " No farther, please." 
 Even among men, I am certain Allison has no in- 
 timate friends. Perhaps longing for Lou's af- 
 fection, and failing in receiving it, he shrinks 
 from asking any love of other people. It is not 
 difficult then, to comprehend how a shy, proud 
 man, having given his utmost devotion, could 
 not approach a woman upon the subject of her 
 love for another man. 
 
 What good will this affair with Percy do Lou 
 Allison? She cannot marry him. And would 
 he have Lou were she free ? When the forbidden 
 fruit is flung before us with the importunate com- 
 mand to eat it, its beauty and flavor soon depart. 
 Great is the glamour of the unattainable! The 
 dramatic agony of hopeless love stimulates de- 
 votion till the apparently insurmountable obsta-
 
 294 Dainty Devils. 
 
 cles are swept away ; then the dream, the agony, 
 and often love itself vanish with the obstacles, at 
 the very moment that Society says, " Bless you, 
 my children." 
 
 Huddled upon the couch in my room that 
 pink bower which has witnessed so many of the 
 tears of its unappreciative owner I went deeper 
 and deeper into a brown study where no rosy 
 hue penetrated. I had thought I was learning 
 my lessons of social etiquette, polite lies, intrigues 
 and shams. It had been a shock to receive Lou's 
 laughing words about her husband coming to see 
 me. Had Marion known that people said things ? 
 For I had rushed to the conclusion that I was the 
 subject of gossip, and if so, Marion had wilfully 
 left me in ignorance. How intolerably mean ! 
 Was even Marion not a true friend? Oh, I 
 would not believe she had neglected warning me 
 if she knew anything about my name being drag- 
 ged into the Allison difficulties ! 
 
 I have not seen much of Marion lately. She 
 is more than ever hopelessly devoted to charity, 
 besides spending more time with her mother than 
 formerly, partly to prevent her from hearing 
 much about Neddie Lawrence, and partly 
 because Mrs. LaGrange has recently been in 
 rather poor health. Marion herself is looking 
 old and worn. Her girlish freshness is being lost 
 in the lines and shadows of a tired woman's face.
 
 February. 295 
 
 I tried to deceive myself for a while, as one fain 
 would where one is fond. Now I have to give 
 in that Marion, not yet twenty-one, is fading. I 
 heard two insipid youths discussing her at 
 Sherry's one night last week. There were plants 
 between them and me, and they did not take the 
 trouble to look around, when, having in mind 
 an occasion upon which I failed to do so, and 
 heard something not meant for my ears, I furi- 
 ously coughed. 
 
 " Marion was beastly pale, don't you know," 
 and her " cheekbones were beginning to be deuc- 
 edly prominent ; " altogether they concluded she 
 was " no longer in it with the debutantes." 
 
 One of the wonders of life is that strange 
 species of insanity called love. One woman loves 
 one man out of the earth's millions, and loves 
 him so madly, that while thousands are hand- 
 somer and nobler than he, if she is doomed to live 
 without him, she will either pathetically die or 
 continue to exist a sorry shadow of what she 
 might have been, crowned with the happiness of 
 possessing her idol. Then a man loves a woman so 
 passionately, that being denied her, he takes to a 
 pistol, drink or cynicism, and in one of the 
 three ways, ruins all his chances in this world 
 and the next. Marion could choose among half- 
 a-dozen, and here she is wasting youth and beauty 
 because the particular Percy regards her in the
 
 296 Dainty Devils. 
 
 calm light of a nice girl for some other chap to 
 marry. Verily there is no greater joy, no deeper 
 misery or mightier power in the universe than 
 love. I have heard middle-aged women with 
 grown daughters and shrinking incomes talk 
 this winter about love being out of style, and not 
 at all necessary in the bestowal of their girls 
 in marriage. If the daughters themselves reach 
 this godless condition of regarding matrimony 
 as a blameless method of relieving parents and 
 obtaining a splendid home and stunning gowns, 
 there will be some excitement five or six years 
 from now, when Love, thwarted and insulted, 
 claims as victims the hearts which have already 
 been, falsely and blasphemously at God's altar, 
 pledged for a life-time's service and devotion 
 where cold indifference is the least evil one dare 
 expect. 
 
 Love will never go out of style, nor will it 
 always strike in the direction most desired by 
 the on-lookers. Do I not wish Marion detested 
 Percy Earle ? . To be more honest, how I long 
 to force Percy to turn from Lou Allison and see 
 what a girl he is making wretched! Ten years 
 younger, twice as pretty, a thousand times more 
 gifted and refined! Oh, besides all its glorious 
 attributes, Love is, in a case like Percy's, not 
 merely blind, as the proverb has it, but deaf, 
 dumb and imbecile!
 
 February. 297 
 
 Browner and browner grew the study into 
 which I had sunk. How had I ever been care- 
 less and happy, as they say in Graytown, from 
 "sun-up to sun-down?" There were tragedies 
 in the world then, miseries, deceits, heart-aches, 
 disgraces, and I floated through a cloudless ether 
 of ignorance and unconcern, pitying no one, help- 
 ing no one, half unconscious that I possessed a 
 soul. Is it because I am so horribly unspiritual 
 that the awakening to the truths of life brings 
 such despair? Jack has patiently reasoned with 
 me against a habit of morbidness, saying that 
 in my secluded and guarded life at home, I was 
 wholly ignorant of the wide possibility that most 
 people have heart-histories which, although not 
 dead, are scrupulously and persistently held down 
 alive in their graves by their owners. 
 
 And now Mr. Allison ! Would I again hear 
 jests about my friendship for him? Oh, I could 
 not stand it ! And I would not ! They had 
 criticised me, ridiculed me, made it hard for me 
 in every conceivable way, these New York women 
 who did not care to welcome the unknown, penni- 
 less country-girl into their midst. The first hard 
 experience over, I could bear nearly everything 
 of this nature, because I realized who I was, and 
 who were many of my persecutors. But scandal ! 
 No, I should die, if women giggled and men 
 shrugged their shoulders when I entered a room.
 
 298 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Once, in a little inn upon the Rhine, I came across 
 a small devotional book in French, the first chap- 
 ter of which discoursed eloquently upon " Human 
 Respect." It was immensely clever in a delicious- 
 ly naive way, as are so many little pious French 
 books ; and engulfed in miserable thoughts 
 as I was, I vividly recalled some paragraphs 
 about " the power to change our ideas, endeavors 
 and actions, in even the unspoken, and ought-to- 
 be-unknown, opinions of neighbors and acquaint- 
 ances." At the time I pictured the volume in 
 the course of composition on the worn old desk of 
 some Monsieur le Cure, whose saintly calm had 
 been frequently jarred by the gossipings and back- 
 bitings of Monsieur le Boulanger and Monsieur 
 le Cordonnier, by the petty cheating and huge in- 
 dignation of Madame la Blanchisseuse and Ma- 
 demoiselle la Couturicre. My own recently ac- 
 quired experience as to the dread of the scath- 
 ing cruelty and injustice of public opinion, made 
 me yield a mournful acquaintance to the views 
 so cleverly put forward by the earnest Cure. 
 Strange that the lonely man in his restricted 
 sphere of village pastor, so successfully expressed 
 the thoughts which New York itself evokes! 
 Ah, human nature! What is it but the weak- 
 nesses and strength, the limitations and capa- 
 bilities comon to all? No doubt, Monsieur le 
 Cure had abundance of human nature to deal
 
 February. 299 
 
 with among his simple, unambitious, grubbing 
 parishoners. And the whole world is still kin. 
 
 As the afternoon waned, brighter possibilities 
 filtered through the murky clouds of my thoughts. 
 Lou was half-crazy. She had taken that repre- 
 hensible high-ball. I could not believe that she 
 meant to hint anything unpleasant. Impossible 
 that anyone should consider me a flirt. 
 
 Perhaps too, all that scare she gave me about 
 law, had its origin in the same alcoholic beverage. 
 Jack told me long ago that neither Lou nor Belle 
 owns any real estate, and I am sure there are no 
 wills being contested in the family. There is no 
 reason for Lou being at law about anything under 
 the sun. 
 
 I believe that high-balls, if permissible at all, 
 
 should be relegated exclusively to strong men. 
 ******* 
 
 There are more matters than a guilty con- 
 science which at times give one a horror of being 
 alone. Not that my conscience is blameless, only 
 I fail to find it very rebellious, alone or other- 
 wise. It may be that it is one of the convenient 
 kind that "still sleep". Nothing but restless- 
 ness made the house unbearable yesterday. I 
 could not stay alone without screaming, nor 
 would I see anyone I disliked. Marion saved 
 the situation. Quite wrought-up and desperate, 
 I walked down to her house, feeling that if she
 
 3oo Dainty Devils. 
 
 were out, there was no telling what I might do 
 next. 
 
 She was at home, the maid said, hesitatingly. 
 Where ? Upstairs with Mrs. LaGrange, who had 
 a severe headache. I stepped past the deliberat- 
 ing servant and went directly to Marion's room ; 
 she was not there. Going back one flight of 
 stairs, I knocked at Mrs. LaGrange's door. No 
 one answered in words, but there was a rustle 
 of skirts, and Marion gently opened the door. 
 
 " Is it you, Dot ?" she said, in a low voice. 
 " Come in. You won't mind, mother? " 
 
 Mrs. LaGrange lay upon the couch, her eyes 
 glazed with pain. Marion had bound a com- 
 press across her mother's forehead, and held a 
 vinaigrette in one hand, while she unfastened my 
 jacket without speaking. Did they always take 
 headaches so seriously at LaGranges' ? 
 
 " I'm so sorry you're ill," I began, feelingly. 
 
 " I'm not ill, dear," Mrs. LaGrange interrupted. 
 " Tell her, Marion." 
 
 Alarmed I turned quickly to Marion. 
 
 " What has happened ? Why didn't you send 
 me word ? " 
 
 " It has just happened scarcely half-an-hour 
 ago. It's a letter from Neddie." 
 
 Marion's voice was very cold. 
 
 " Has he gone home ? " I asked, knowing very 
 well he had not.
 
 February. 301 
 
 " No He's gone to Canada, probably." 
 
 Marion had a basin of ice on a table. She 
 went to it, wrung out a fresh compress, and pro- 
 ceeded to change the application on her mother's 
 head. Mrs. LaGrange moaned faintly, as she 
 turned her face toward her daughter. 
 
 " Yes, you're suffering for that foolish boy," 
 Marion replied to the moan, in the same unim- 
 passioned manner. " I can't bear to think of that, 
 mother." 
 
 " He's young," said Mrs. LaGrange, faintly 
 and pleadingly, " and he wasn't strong enough 
 to resist bad example." 
 
 " He shouldn't have broken your heart. The 
 ingratitude is shameful. Won't you show Dot 
 the letter, mother ? " 
 
 Mrs. LaGrange drew her hand from under 
 the worsted rug Marion had wrapped about her. 
 I leaned forward and took the sheet of paper 
 curiously. It read : 
 
 " MY DEAR COUSIN : 
 
 It may seem strange to 
 
 you that I write to beg forgiveness for an act 
 which I ought to be ashamed to acknowledge. I 
 have for some time been unworthy of the kind- 
 ness and great interest that you and Marion have 
 showered upon me. There can be no excuse; 
 that I fully understand, but I beg you to believe
 
 3O2 Dainty Devils. 
 
 that in the last few weeks I have continued to 
 play cards in the desperate hope that one day 
 my luck would change, and I should be able to 
 clear myself of the debts I have so unfortunately 
 contracted. 
 
 The confession which it half kills me to make 
 to you, is that I have used fifteen hundred dol- 
 lars of the bank's money, besides having bor- 
 rowed from a number of your personal friends. 
 Although I am leaving the city like a thief, will 
 you try to pardon me and believe that I shall 
 go somewhere and work hard until the money 
 I have squandered, yes and stolen, has been re- 
 turned? I shall write the pitiful truth to my 
 poor mother, and all I can say to her, as well 
 as to you, is that I have been undeserving of the 
 favors I have received. 
 
 With bitter regret for my faults and failings, 
 believe me still, my dear cousin, 
 
 Gratefully and humbly, 
 
 EDWARD LAWRENCE." 
 
 Awe-struck, I glanced from Mrs. LaGrange to 
 Marion, and back again to Mrs. LaGrange. 
 
 "Does it mean he has actually stolen?" I 
 asked. 
 
 Mrs. LaGrange quivered at the word. 
 
 " They call it defaulting," said Marion. " The
 
 February. 303 
 
 suffering for mother is the same, whatever the 
 name." 
 
 " Oh, Marion, don't ! " said the mother. 
 " Have a little pity. He is hardly more than a 
 child. You have acted so queerly ever since the 
 note came." 
 
 Marion was outraged in what was, next to her 
 love for Percy, her strongest feeling: -her devo- 
 tion to her mother ; and her nature resented the 
 action that brought pain to Mrs. LaGrange, in 
 a stronger manner than most people would have 
 believed possible for her. 
 
 " Some are born criminals, some attain crimi- 
 nality, some have criminality thrust upon them," 
 the girl went on in a hard voice. " The last is 
 Neddie, I fancy." 
 
 Her eyes met mine. In spite of outward cold- 
 ness, a great heart-sickness was within. By some 
 undefined sympathy, I knew she was regretting 
 having given Lawrence money to settle his debts. 
 I recalled the scene at the Mission-room, and 
 anger overcame my better judgment. 
 
 " Mrs. Robertson is the one who should suffer 
 for this," I cried. " She taught him to drink 
 and to gamble." 
 
 " Yes ; " added Marion, " she did." 
 
 " Don't, children, don't ! " Mrs. LaGrange 
 pressed her hands against her forehead distract- 
 edly. " I am the one to blame ; I should have
 
 304 Dainty Devils. 
 
 brought him here to live. Oh, I did wrong to 
 let him have rooms where I could not control 
 him ! " 
 
 " He would have been the same, mother. He'd 
 have met the same people." Marion's tone was 
 more judicial than soothing. 
 
 " But you could have restrained him, Marion," 
 reasoned the mother, relentlessly arguing her own 
 condemnation. " And I confess I didn't bring 
 him here because I was afraid he would fall in 
 love with you ! Oh, I'm punished for my mater- 
 nal vanity and conceit! And now what shall I 
 say to his mother? What account can I give of 
 the responsibility I undertook ? " Mrs. La- 
 Grange's face contracted with physical and men- 
 tal pain. 
 
 " Hush, mother ! You must not speak so. 
 You are not to blame. It's the wretchedness into 
 which society is degenerating above all the 
 women. If there were only a few more like 
 you!" 
 
 Marion knelt down and tenderly stroked her 
 mother's cheek, her own face beginning to trem- 
 ble, and her unnatural constraint giving way. 
 The great resemblance in the two faces shows 
 most strikingly when they are brought closely 
 together, particularly since Marion has begun to 
 look so much older. Snow-white hair would 
 make Marion her mother's counterpart; and she
 
 February. 305 
 
 will have it while young. There are already a 
 few stray white threads in her coal-black hair. 
 As mother and daughter clung to each other in 
 sorrow and affliction, I felt dreadfully outside and 
 forgotten. 
 
 " But I'm not so easy to fall in love with/' 
 Marion supplemented after a while, struggling 
 to overcome the grief to which she had almost 
 succumbed. " On that score you might safely 
 risk a whole University of boys ! " 
 
 " Don't try to jest, Marion. It's too ghastly. 
 My poor child, what will you do when the papers 
 print the story in the morning?" Mrs. La- 
 Grange's mouth quivered, and she drew Marion 
 tightly to her, as if she were a small child to 
 be protected from bodily harm. " To think that 
 misery and disgrace must come to you through a 
 member of my family ! My dear daughter ! " 
 
 " I don't mind anything so long as I have you," 
 Marion declared, swallowing hard. " Nothing 
 whatever. Only get over this dreadful headache, 
 and be well, and I shall bother about nothing 
 else." 
 
 " You are trying to feel that way, Marion, 
 I know. But it is all very dreadful, and it will 
 always remain my fault." The big tears rolled 
 down Mrs. LaGrange's colorless cheeks. With 
 the bursting of a great sob, Marion slipped for- 
 ward and hid her face in her mother's shoulder. 
 
 20
 
 306 Dainty Devils. 
 
 I tip-toed out of the room, leaving Marion 
 and her mother weeping together. And up in 
 the country there was another mother who would 
 be crushed almost unto death under the blow of a 
 son's disgrace. I know and understand the harsh 
 and frank way in which such sins are regarded 
 in little, old-fashioned places, where everyone 
 knows everybody else. The mother would not 
 condemn him. Mrs. LaGrange, who was only 
 some one else's mother, had not done that. 
 But the agony would be all the greater because 
 no salutary anger and indignation would stay the 
 flow of the bitter water of unmitigated sorrow. 
 
 Sadly enough I let myself out of the house.. 
 The day was very cold, and out of doors most 
 uninviting. That is one of the ways in which the 
 city is so different from the country. In Gray- 
 town when one felt excited or angry or blue 
 or when anything important happened, like a 
 death, for instance one went out of the house to 
 breathe and feel better ; and the action was con- 
 sidered natural and proper, because one's front- 
 yard and back-yard are as much one's property 
 as the house itself. In New York it is danger- 
 ous to go to the window ; people might think the 
 house was on fire and that a policeman was 
 wanted to turn in an alarm. And as for going 
 into the streets for rest and relief the stones 
 would cry out : " This is a public thoroughfare
 
 February. 307 
 
 and public property Go back where you be- 
 long " Oh, how delightful it is to own a little 
 out-doors, although the little is not bigger than 
 dear father's front-yard in Graytown ! 
 
 I was plodding wearily along against the wind 
 when at the corner of Fifth Avenue I almost 
 stumbled against Percy Earle. He exclaimed in 
 surprise as he recognized me : 
 
 " Why, how do you do, Mrs. Woodward ? 
 Have you heard the news? No? Jack's all 
 right. But Robertson's lost heavily." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " I stopped where I 
 was, greatly alarmed by Percy's face. 
 
 " The worst panic the ' Street ' has ever 
 known. May I walk up with you? Thank you. 
 I'm on my way to see Jack, if he has left his 
 office. Robertsons' about wiped out, unless he 
 has more back of him than people think." 
 
 " What was it ? Can't you tell me ? Jack 
 says I'm not so stupid." I was hurriedly calling 
 upon my memory for terms used on the " Street." 
 
 " Do you know what a ' corner ' is ? Well, 
 they had a corner in Criss-Cross and forced the 
 shorts. It was desperate, I tell you. By the way, 
 have I a collar on ? " 
 
 I obediently looked up at Percy's neck. Yes, 
 he had a collar rumpled, and not at all like 
 Percy's collars as I knew them but his tie was
 
 308 Dainty Devils. 
 
 gone. He smiled apologetically, and I suddenly 
 noticed how worn his face was. 
 
 " Did you lose, Mr. Earle ? " I anxiously asked. 
 
 " Not a great deal. And Van Voort was in 
 on Criss-Cross all right. They say Mrs. Robert- 
 son's mother had two thousand shares. I'll wager 
 she did, but that won't help Robertson any. 
 Odd, isn't it, that her mind is so clear upon 
 business, and so muddled about everything else? 
 Her miserliness is a kind of insanity; her own 
 daughter might starve before she would part 
 with a dollar." 
 
 " Are the Robertsons ruined ? " My mind re- 
 fused to accept the idea. How could such a 
 lot of money disappear in a day? 
 
 " Yes, unless Robertson has something in his 
 wife's name. I know nothing about her side of 
 the affair." 
 
 Percy was cheerful enough, although dread- 
 fully excited, and he had no idea how fast he 
 was walking. Between struggling to keep up 
 with his rapid gait, and the disagreeable wind 
 which was blowing straight at us across the Park, 
 I was breathless when we reached home. We 
 entered the house from out of a kind of gale. 
 
 " Hello ! " 
 
 Jack had been only a few minutes ahead of 
 us. He was still in the hall, and he turned to 
 me a pale and weary face.
 
 February. 309 
 
 " Jack," I gasped, catching hold of him, " are 
 you really all right in spite of the ' corner ' ? " 
 
 " Yes, little one. What has Percy been tell- 
 ing you? Come into the library, old chap. It's 
 mighty rough on Robertson, isn't it ? " 
 
 " I should say so. Brompton told me the old 
 man grew desperate. He couldn't have been as 
 rich as people thought." 
 
 " Are you not hit at all ? " Jack's anxiety for 
 Percy pleased me. 
 
 " Hardly. Thank the fates ! " 
 
 The bell rang sharply. I sprang up, fancying 
 an unwelcome caller: for I still had my hat and 
 gloves on, and was altogether in need of Per- 
 kins's ministrations. The man brought in a note 
 for Jack. I sank back relieved, till a heavy frown 
 gathered upon Jack's forehead. 
 
 " It's from Robertson, Dot. Would you mind 
 if I didn't get back for dinner ? " 
 
 I pouted. It was impossible for me to com- 
 prehend that the Robertsons were in real trouble, 
 and I was not so fond of them that I would will- 
 ingly allow Jack to go to them and leave me to 
 a spoiled and lonely evening. 
 
 Percy laughed lightly. 
 
 " Be good, Mrs. Woodward. Poor Robertson 
 is in hard straits, and Jack is the only man on 
 earth he trusts."
 
 3io Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Very well," I said, grudgingly. " And I sup- 
 pose you'll go too, Mr. Earle ? " 
 
 " Extra ! Re'ad the Extra ! Terrible panic in 
 Wall Street! Extra-a!" 
 
 The shouts of tramps with special editions of 
 the evening papers and it always seems to me 
 that these Extras are special dispensations for 
 the benefit of these tramps broke hoarsely in 
 upon us. 
 
 " It seems uncanny," I said, nervously. " And 
 how grewsome the trees look shaking in the 
 dark ! " 
 
 Percy promptly drew down the shade of the 
 window which commanded a view of the Park. 
 A servant entered and turned on the lights. We 
 sat silent for a minute or two; Jack and Percy 
 very HIcely going on with some of the lightning 
 calculations they had worn themselves out with 
 all day, and I wondering how Mrs. Robertson, 
 poor, would impress me. The stillness was 
 broken by Percy apologizingly asking Jack for 
 a tie. Five minutes later, the two men left the 
 house together, while I heartily wished that I 
 might go with them. 
 
 Disspiritedly I started upstairs, and at that mo- 
 ment the bell rang. I paused expectantly. An- 
 other note this time to Mr. and Mrs. Wood- 
 ward. I tore it open upon the stairs. 
 
 " Mrs. Alexander Robertson begs to announce
 
 February. 311 
 
 that owing to her serious indisposition, her ball 
 will be postponed from to-night to three weeks 
 hence." 
 
 The communication brought the recollection to 
 my mind that upon this evening Mrs. Robertson 
 was to have given the ball of the season at the 
 Waldorf-Astoria. In the last few days I had 
 entirely forgotten the momentous invitation. 
 
 " Jiminy ! " I breathed, the situation beginning 
 to dawn upon me. That expression was a relic 
 of my barbarous, blissful days at home in Gray- 
 town. As I proceeded to my room, I earnestly 
 hoped the servant had not heard it. 
 
 Jack returned in two hours. I was at the 
 table, and he came in saying he was starved. 
 
 " You look it," I said, sympathetically. " How 
 are they, Jack ? " 
 
 Jack unfolded his napkin deliberately. 
 
 " Apres," said he, quietly. 
 
 So I had to wait until we were alone. Then 
 I heard all the news condensed and to the point. 
 Robertson was practically penniless ; Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson had for years been living beyond their 
 income and had, unknown to her husband, heavily 
 mortgaged the sumptuous house, which had 
 been his wedding-gift to her. 
 
 " Jack ! " I cried, excitedly. 
 
 "Well?"
 
 312 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " She's used her gambling gains to pay the 
 interest on the mortgage ! " 
 
 " Exactly. You're growing apt. Only the 
 last interest was never paid. She is in debt every- 
 where including thousands for diamonds." 
 
 "What will they do?" I asked, appalled. 
 
 " It was a hideous scene, Dot dear. Mrs. 
 Robertson is leaving on the nine o'clock train for 
 Maine." 
 
 " Not to go to that awful mother ? " I was 
 more appalled than ever. What a fate she had 
 dared ! 
 
 " She has no choice, while Robertson remains 
 in the rage he's in now. Bad as she is, I pity 
 her when she reaches her mother." 
 
 Neddie Lawrence darted suddenly into my 
 seething brain, and with him the picture of Mrs. 
 LaGrange and Marion in their despair. 
 
 " I don't pity her," I said, savagely. 
 
 Jack smiled indulgently. 
 
 " You always did seem to dislike her uncom- 
 monly." 
 
 " I'm glad I did," I continued, warmly. " Wait 
 till you read about Neddie Lawrence to-morrow ! 
 It's worse than the panic, for Marion and her 
 mother are heart-broken. Jack, he has stolen 
 from the bank ! " 
 
 Jack almost pushed me away from him. 
 
 " Dot ! " he cried sternly, " are you sure ? "
 
 February. 313 
 
 " I saw it in his own handwriting." 
 
 " The devil ! " said Jack, unfortunately break- 
 ing his record of which I had been so proud. 
 
 " Yes, the devil with poker and whiskey as 
 baits," I hastily said, not wanting Jack to know 
 that I took the exclamation as a swear. But he 
 went on, terribly, awfully, frightfully: 
 
 " It's a damned shame ! " 
 
 And I could not cover that up, could I ? Jack 
 is, in spite of all his perfections and high-mind- 
 edness, mere man after all, and even his theories 
 go to pieces once in a while, when too great a 
 strain is put upon them. 
 
 I should not want him to be quite an angel, 
 even though opposites do attract Really, I am 
 not wicked enough to need a genuine angel to 
 live with me. Jack suits me as he is Mostly 
 very good, and slightly a little naughty. The 
 conclusion is apparent. 
 
 Neddie's escapade received only a small notice 
 in print. The panic was too enormous, too far- 
 reaching not to overshadow any little individual 
 case of a blackened name and a few broken 
 hearts. Mrs. LaGrange is ill from the shock and 
 disgrace. Marion finds compensation, as always, 
 in rescuing wrecks of humanity out of the slums. 
 She looks more unhealthily pious than ever, and
 
 314 Dainty Devils. 
 
 I begin to be slightly tainted with Jack's belief 
 in her ultimate retirement into a Sisterhood. 
 
 I read over some of these pages the other day. 
 They are a queer record of gay society ! Almost 
 all the people I know belong to those who are 
 chronically busy enjoying themselves. Why then, 
 in the name of reason, are they so conspicuously 
 innocent of a good time ? Dancing and big bills 
 and betting and noise do not seem, in the aggre- 
 gate, to amount to such very undiluted happiness. 
 Common sense whispers to me that the latter is 
 
 made up of different ingredients. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Where shall I begin and how shall I express 
 the chaos of thought in which I seem to lie half- 
 stunned ? 
 
 It was yesterday morning, yes, only yesterday 
 morning, that Lou sent me this note : 
 
 " Dearest Dot, come stay all day with me. 
 Belle is under the weather and I am very de- 
 spondent. LONELY Lou." 
 
 Jack had gone, and I had no definite engage- 
 ment until evening, when I, as well as Lou and 
 Belle and all of us, would go to the Mardi Gras 
 at Sherry's. Last week, the day she was feeling 
 so blue, Lou telephoned for Percy Earle. My 
 heart fluttered happily at the gratifying thought
 
 February. 315 
 
 that she was reforming, and I was the proper 
 substitute for her usual guest when she needed 
 consolation. 
 
 Jubilantly I made my way down to the Allison 
 house swinging along Fifth Avenue at a rate 
 I have rarely indulged in since I left Graytown. 
 In the morning throng I did not meet a familiar 
 face until I reached the Waldorf, when Mr. Van 
 Voort came sauntering along in indolent leisure, 
 smoking by fits and starts. He stopped and per- 
 force, I gave him my hand. We do not agree 
 with one another any better than we ever did; 
 he is too monumental a moneyed nonentity, and 
 I suppose on the other hand I am too raw a re- 
 cruit from pinching poverty. 
 
 " Where so early, my dear Mrs. Woodward ? " 
 
 Oh, what a disfiguring grin ! Inwardly, I re- 
 sented the " my dear " and answered as I started 
 off: 
 
 " To Allisons'." 
 
 " Oh ! " A light exclamation, but a trenchant 
 laugh. 
 
 Involuntarily I paused again for a second. Mr. 
 Van Voort was in the act of lifting his hat, and 
 his grin had spread, I believe, almost to the back 
 of his head. 
 
 Flushing as broadly as he grinned, and mutter- 
 ing a ferocious " Good-morning " back at him, 
 I hastily resumed my walk, all pleasure, all spirit,
 
 316 Dainty Devils. 
 
 except an evil one, knocked out of me. Lou had 
 jested, and that idiotic Van Voort had chuckled. 
 What would come next ? Although almost every- 
 one I knew lived in a glass house, all without 
 exceptions were throwing stones, and the break- 
 ing of the crystal was maddening. 
 
 Lou welcomed me very sweetly. She was got- 
 ten up in a street-gown, for her a strange pro- 
 ceeding in the morning, and she talked and acted 
 more gently than ever before in our acquaintance. 
 Yes, it must be that Lou was reforming. How 
 beautiful if I had been the instrument ! And why 
 not? Was it an impossibility for me to be of 
 any use in the world? Might I not bring Lou 
 at least to the point of giving up Percy, and 
 then would not my Marion win the boy? Percy 
 was impressionable, young compared with my 
 Jack, and very unformed in character. Probably 
 this pitiable affair with Lou would prove to be 
 the folly of a first fancy, which would shrivel up 
 in self-mortification as soon as actual love claimed 
 him. 
 
 " I suppose you want to see Belle a few 
 minutes ? " Lou was saying. I had not been 
 listening very attentively. 
 
 "Yes; is she in bed?" 
 
 " No ; only lying on the couch." Lou dropped 
 her voice. " She is killing herself with morphine, 
 poor girl."
 
 February. 317 
 
 " Can't you prevent it ? " 
 
 " No, not here. Perhaps," a peculiar smile lit 
 Lou's face, a dreamy, slowly-growing smile, " I 
 shall take her to Italy next month. March will 
 be bad for her in New York." 
 
 " It certainly will. Jack says it will be hard 
 even for me." 
 
 " Don't say Belle looks ill," warned Lou at the 
 door. 
 
 Truly Lou was becoming thoughtful. I had 
 always liked her, and now she was revealing how 
 much good was in her. 
 
 Belle in a trailing white tea-gown, lay with 
 closed eyes upon the couch. I could not say she 
 looked ill. Her cheeks had regained their plump- 
 ness, and a bright pink glowed in them. When 
 I kissed her I discovered they were burning hot. 
 She opened her eyes lazily, and I noted her pupils 
 contracted to the size of a pin-point. 
 
 " Oh, Dot," she said, drowsily, " how are you? 
 We talk of going to Europe next month. I 
 might die here, you know." 
 
 She smiled a meaningless, joyless smile, nega- 
 tively content because she was drugged, poisoned, 
 intoxicated. An odd uncertainty troubled her 
 tongue and lips, and the latter were swollen and 
 expressionless. 
 
 " Lou," I said, hurriedly, " we'll go down and 
 let Belle sleep/'
 
 3i8 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Yes, let me sleep." 
 
 Belle's eyes closed again. Lou shook her head, 
 anxiety and pity in her countenance. 
 
 " Oh, Lou," I whispered on the stairs, " you 
 must make her stop ! She's in an awful state." 
 
 " I know it. She gets the stuff no matter how. 
 She hasn't been out for a week, and I found 
 a big bottle of laudanum in the mattress of her 
 bed to-day." 
 
 " Where on earth did she get it ? " 
 
 " There is only one possibility She bribes the 
 maid, Annie." 
 
 " She would stoop to that ? " I asked, incred- 
 ulously. 
 
 Lou shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " A morphine-fiend has already stooped so far, 
 my dear, that another dip or two won't signify." 
 
 Lou's dignified condemnation of her sister's 
 failing was very touching. I cuddled up to her 
 in affectionate and admiring sympathy, as we 
 returned to our favorite divan in her small draw- 
 ing-room. Belle seemed gone beyond redemp- 
 tion, and I was so glad very selfishly and igno- 
 bly, of course that I had never been fond of 
 her. My friend, Lou, was developing into a 
 sweet and resigned woman, and I began to 
 hope that all the tangles about me were to be 
 undone, so that the beautiful pattern of my life 
 as Jack's wife could go on weaving itself
 
 February. 319 
 
 into smooth and brilliant perfection. It was very 
 humiliating to have found myself so dense and 
 dull in comprehending the personalities about 
 me. Why was it that often, mostly on a windless, 
 cloudy day, and in some lonely bit of country, 
 I could see and hear the people of hundreds of 
 years ago passing, riding and afoot, laughing, 
 talking, animate as I myself? In Germany I 
 could see the wild barons in their suits of 
 mail go clattering up the rocky paths to their 
 stern, threatening castles ; in France and Eng- 
 land, watch the worn-out pilgrims returning from 
 the Holy Land. These creatures of a far-off time 
 for a moment I knew and understood, and 
 pitied or dreaded or admired. When the vision 
 left my mind and I stood beside Jack in the 
 present, I drew a quick breath and felt oddly 
 lonely, staring at the dusty road and motionless 
 leaves. At Heidelberg, in the comfortless room 
 in the crumbling Schloss, where in the old days 
 pages waited for their lords' behests, I had seen 
 the ruddy faces of the saucy boys, had heard 
 their gibes and laughter, had watched them tussle 
 and tease and bet, all under their breath, 
 as it were, because the masters were near by. 
 Yes, I was nearer these dead and buried ones 
 than to the complicated productions of modern 
 civilization which had bombarded and most suc- 
 cessively my wits in New York. Marion had
 
 32O Dainty Devils. 
 
 remained my single solace; now I should find in 
 Lou another preventitive of complete disgust with 
 that congregation of self-satisfied, but if one 
 considers the unrest never self-sufficient, people 
 dubbed, " Society." 
 
 Lou had a small work-bag hanging upon her 
 left arm. I had never seen her divert herself 
 with fancy-work, and was immensely astonished 
 when she pulled out the beginnings of a steel- 
 bead purse and began to crochet. She looked, 
 outside her piquant, American face, like a 
 proper Herr Lieutenant's wife doing her after- 
 noon's quota at a Cafe Cesellschaft in some gar- 
 rison-town in Germany. 
 
 " Odd, Dot, isn't it, how men like to see women 
 employ their fingers ? " 
 
 She smiled at me, as I watched her in guilty 
 idleness, and wished I had brought some of the 
 handkerchiefs I am monogramming for Jack. 
 
 " Yes," I answered, certain that Allison had 
 given her the hint, " they think needlework very 
 feminine and becoming." 
 
 " Even," she continued, " if they have no idea 
 to what end the exertion is put forth." 
 
 I studied her closely. She was composed in a 
 gracious, womanly way, very different from her 
 habitual flippancy. 
 
 " Lou," I said, earnestly, " you're changed, 
 aren't you ? "
 
 February. 321 
 
 " Not in the least." She missed a bead and 
 poked for it. 
 
 " You're mistaken, dear ; I like you better than 
 ever to-day." 
 
 " Do you ? How funny ! Wouldn't you like 
 to play to me until luncheon is announced ? " 
 
 A strange blush flooded Lou's calm pallor. 
 For the first time during the morning, her man- 
 ner was forced, patently insincere, coldly forbid- 
 ding of confidences. Like a rebuked child I rose 
 without a word and went to the piano, but a 
 sudden impulse made me look for the bow in- 
 stead, and, finding it, run over a few appeggios 
 upon Allison's violin. 
 
 " Play," said Lou, in a low voice, " Raff's Cav- 
 atina; you played it that night after your first 
 dinner. Oh, it seems so long, long ago! It 
 was Marion LaGrange who asked for it, do you 
 remember ? " 
 
 " Perfectly. And she isn't here now to play 
 the accompaniment. Will you ? " I felt that my 
 tone was a little frigid. 
 
 Lou put her crochet-things into the bag, and 
 glided over to the piano-stool, her face again soft 
 and sweet. 
 
 " I can't do it like Marion, but I'll try my 
 best." 
 
 She played well, and I forgot her. I was play- 
 ing with Marion and was wondering what the 
 21
 
 322 Dainty Devils. 
 
 unnamed grief was, which shadowed her eyes. 
 I was determining to know her better, and I was 
 sure I was going to love her. 
 
 " Thank you, Dot. I shall never forget that 
 night." 
 
 " Why, Lou ? " I inquired, curiously. Had I 
 been so glaringly green and ignorant that my 
 first experience of entertaining was to remain in- 
 effaceable in the minds of the victimized partici- 
 pants? The mental portion of that dinner I had 
 never digested, and any illusion to it brought 
 a giddiness to my brain. 
 
 " Oh, it was the beginning o " she paused 
 and laughed in a lower key than her wont, " of 
 Well, Dot, of the end." 
 
 I turned away, offended at the tantalizing an- 
 swer. 
 
 " I think I'll go home, Lou. You're not nice 
 any more." 
 
 " Yes, I am. And I'm happy too. Don't you 
 see I am ? " 
 
 " I hope so ; I suppose I'm very stupid, but 
 I can't see why you answer my question so 
 rudely." 
 
 " Well, I beg your pardon. And now come to 
 luncheon. There ! " She kissed me noisily, and 
 I for the hundredth time yielded to the bewitch- 
 ing fascination of Lou's eyes and laugh. 
 
 " If you please, Madam, Mr. Allison says
 
 February. 323 
 
 he's sorry he can't come down, but he sends his 
 compliments to Mrs. Woodward." 
 
 Lou was unfolding her napkin when Davis 
 delivered this speech. She started violently and 
 repeated in astonishment : 
 
 " Mr. Allison ! " 
 
 " You mightn't have known, Madam, that Mr. 
 Allison came home sick early yesterday after- 
 noon and as how he still must keep his room, 
 according to Dr. Stanton's orders." 
 
 Davis brought his wide mouth together with 
 an audible snap. Lou reddened and paled in 
 rapid succession, and evidently she struggled 
 hard for the voice in which she said : 
 
 " See that Mr. Allison's luncheon is served in 
 his room, Davis." 
 
 " He's too sick for anything but soup, 
 Madam." 
 
 " That will do, Davis. You speak entirely too 
 often." 
 
 I sat in most uncomfortable silence. What 
 ailed Lou? And how could Mr. Allison be ill 
 upstairs and she not know it? Where was the 
 reconciliation I had rashly fancied? 
 
 " Dot, dear, aren't you hungry ? " 
 
 " Not very. Why are you so nervous, Lou ? " 
 
 " I, nervous ? You imagine it. I never felt 
 less excited. Do you mean about Arnold's being 
 sick? Oh, I knew he had some sort of a cold
 
 324 Dainty Devils. 
 
 a few days ago. It is nothing serious. Only I 
 was sure he was at his office to-day." 
 
 I made a brave attempt to eat. Lou talked 
 rapidly a lot of disconnected stuff that amounted 
 to nothing, till Davis left the room. Then she 
 sank back in her chair and neither moved nor 
 spoke, apparently waiting for something or some- 
 one. 
 
 " Are you sure," I finally asked, " that Mr. 
 Allison got his luncheon ? " 
 
 " Oh, Davis would never neglect him. Would 
 you like to go up to Arnold and see ? " Lou was 
 broadly scornful. 
 
 " Lou ! " I sprang out of my chair. 
 
 " Well, come now, what would be the harm ? " 
 Lou sneered. 
 
 " None," I said, severely ; " only that duty 
 should fall upon his wife." 
 
 " It may fall all it likes It will never strike 
 her." 
 
 " And I fancied you had changed ! " I cried. 
 
 " I told you I hadn't. Am I not as charming 
 as ever? Dear little Dot, you don't know every- 
 thing." 
 
 " I don't know why you begged me to come 
 here to-day." 
 
 "You don't? Well, I'll tell you. I expected 
 to start for Jekyll Island to-day, and that 
 wretched Blanches! disappointed me with my
 
 February. 325 
 
 clothes. Now you'll admit, dear, that I'm far 
 too handsome to be condemned to shabby apparel 
 in a brand-new field. So I've telegraphed that 
 I'm delayed." 
 
 " And am I to console you ? " 
 
 " In a fashion um Eh I had other tele- 
 grams to send, also. See here, Dot. Something 
 is going to happen, and I ought to have been 
 out of the way long ago. Only vicious poverty 
 has kept me here for the last six months I mean 
 officially here, for you know I've been away lots, 
 too." 
 
 " If you would only explain ! " I murmured, 
 completely bewildered. 
 
 " I'm trying to as far as is fit, at present. 
 There is a man due in New York to-day, and 
 when I found I couldn't be away, I telegraphed 
 to head him off. No use, he started several days 
 ago. Now I've wired my lawyer here He has 
 no fresh information, and doesn't know where 
 the Western man is. The devil knows how the 
 whole thing will turn out ! " Lou scowled, and 
 compressed her lips. 
 
 " What thing, Lou ? Are you crazy ? " Her 
 whole manner was shocking. 
 
 " No, child. I'm both sane and sober." 
 
 " You are very strange, to say the least. Why 
 did you send for me ? " I again asked, distressed 
 beyond measure.
 
 326 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " Oh, I particularly wished not to be alone to- 
 day. I thought Arnold was out, I assure you." 
 
 Lou blew mischievously into my pompadour, a 
 form of teasing which I abominate, put her arm 
 about my shoulders and led me back to the draw- 
 ing-room. I was almost helpless with confu- 
 sion. 
 
 " Now, Dot, sit still and let me think a few 
 minutes. I'm all in a muddle and may have to 
 promptly change my plans." 
 
 She dropped into 'an arm-chair and huddled 
 herself into a heap, shoulders stooping forward, 
 elbows upon her knees and her face in her hands. 
 Meanwhile she kept up a most irritating murmur 
 of " M m m." 
 
 " Are you practicing for a play, Lou ? " I im- 
 patiently asked. 
 
 " No, not in the least. Real life satisfies me. 
 Hark! Was that the bell ? Oh, the devil !" 
 
 I sighed in despair. There was no use trying 
 to expostulate: for Davis was coming with a 
 card. 
 
 " The gentleman has already been at Mr. Alli- 
 son's office," said he, in an aggressive tone, " and 
 insists on disturbing him here." 
 
 Lou snatched the card from the tray and stood 
 up very straight. She considered a moment, then 
 her face hardened. She had taken her resolu- 
 tion.
 
 February. 327 
 
 " The gentleman wishes to see Mr. Allison. 
 You may take him up." Something gave a 
 solemn finality to these ordinary words. 
 
 I watched her, peculiarly frightened. She 
 stood rolling up her handkerchief and unrolling 
 it, so excited that she was unconscious of the 
 action. Suddenly I was impelled to speak. Oh, 
 thank God ! 
 
 " Lou, isn't Mr. Allison too sick to see stran- 
 gers?" 
 
 She rolled the handkerchief more tightly than 
 ever. 
 
 " Oh, he only has a cold. And he might as 
 well know now." 
 
 " Know what, Lou ? " I asked. 
 
 " Sh ! " A man was passing through the hall. 
 I saw him go quickly up, Davis in attendance. 
 Before I could speak again Lou had darted out 
 of the room. I heard the ring for a messenger- 
 boy, and then she was back and scribbling at 
 her desk. The room was full of sunshine, yet a 
 queer darkness floated before my eyes. I had 
 no suspicion of the truth, but a sickening horror 
 had seized me. 
 
 " Lou ! " I called, faintly. 
 
 She did not answer; she was reading a note. 
 Several minutes passed, during which Lou re- 
 mained at her desk, the note in her hand, wait- 
 ing for the messenger-boy. One foot tapped the
 
 328 Dainty Devils. 
 
 floor; she was only half on the chair, her knee 
 dropped down and her whole attitude one of read- 
 iness to spring out of her seat at an instant's 
 notice. 
 
 After what seemed an interminable time, the 
 messenger-boy arrived. Lou opened the door. 
 Astonished at this, I was more so when I heard 
 her say : " Take this at once to Mr. Percy Earle, 
 1000 Wall Street." 
 
 I jumped. Why did Lou want Percy at this 
 juncture? 
 
 " Lou," I said, in a frightened whisper, " what 
 is happening? There is something wrong." I 
 had run to her in the hall. 
 
 Catching her gown I held her tightly, staring 
 up in bewildered terror at her face. Before she 
 had time to speak, a door upstairs opened. 
 
 " Good morning, sir." It was Allison dismiss- 
 ing his caller. 
 
 Lou stepped aside, crowding me against the 
 wall as he passed us. She acknowledged his 
 exaggerated bow by a curt nod. The door up- 
 stairs had not closed. Evidently Allison was 
 waiting to make sure of the stranger's departure. 
 Lou pushed me into the drawing-room, follow- 
 ing me closely and hastily. 
 
 "Dot," said she, speaking in a low, warning 
 tone, " remember that you are to stick to me. 
 Arnold will probably try "
 
 February. 329 
 
 Mr. Allison was coming, and Lou interrupted 
 herself. Her cheeks had flushed nervously, and 
 her eyes were fiercely dilated. She let her hand- 
 kerchief fall, and her arms hung limply at her 
 sides. As Allison hesitated a moment at the 
 portieres, Lou drew one gasping breath, and 
 stepped backward till she leaned against some 
 high book-shelves. There she waited, erect, si- 
 lent and calm. 
 
 Mr. Allison came in slowly, holding some 
 papers out before him in his right hand. He was 
 dressed, save his tie, and wore bed-room slip- 
 pers, as if in the hurry of his toilet he had for- 
 gotten them. Their heellessness added to the 
 unnaturalness of his gait, which halted like that 
 of an old man. He looked pale and ill, and his 
 eyes were awful. I slunk back into a corner 
 where some drapery served as a kind of con- 
 soling shield, but I had to watch and listen and 
 I trembled, expecting I did not know what. 
 
 " Louise ! " His illness made him hoarse, but 
 not so hoarse as that. 
 
 Lou inclined her head ever so slightly, and 
 met unflinchingly the gaze of his wild, command- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 " I have been " he stopped to cough, and my 
 heart seemed to check off the seconds, so slowly 
 and hard it beat. Almost breathless, Mr. Alli- 
 son finally resumed " served with some papers
 
 33o Dainty Devils. 
 
 The first in proceedings for Absolute Di- 
 vorce applied for by you, Louise Appleton 
 Allison." 
 
 Lou moved from the supporting book-case. 
 Haughtily erect she said coldly, " Yes." 
 
 Mr. Allison's outstretched arms dropped. His 
 figure seemed to shrink and his features con- 
 tracted. Involuntarily, I cried out : 
 
 "Oh, don't!" 
 
 The room was reeling. I believe I was faint- 
 ing from horror and fright when Mr. Allison's 
 voice startled me into my full senses. It was 
 low, steady, courteous, and he no longer looked 
 at Lou. 
 
 " Then there is no mistake ? You wish to be 
 free?" 
 
 That insolent figure two feet from him did not 
 move. 
 
 Distantly, composedly, Lou answered, " I do." 
 
 The man bowed, turned, and, with head hung 
 and shoulders bent, went out, carrying the Sum- 
 mons. 
 
 I wrung my hands in impotent misery, and 
 breathed a prayer which I know now was a ter- 
 rible sin. What should I say to Lou? What 
 could I do ? Oh, Allison ! How could you take it 
 so tamely! 
 
 " Thank Heaven, it's over ! '' 
 
 Lou spoke in a matter-of-fact way, and picked
 
 February. 33 1 
 
 up her handkerchief. I saw her go to a mirror 
 and carefully loosen her pompadour, afterwards 
 tucking in more securely a few hair-pins for 
 which her heavy black hair was too much. 
 Amazement at her cold-bloodedness transfixed 
 me. I had no voice, no power of motion, no cap- 
 ability of reasoning. 
 
 " Lou ! " 
 
 The voice came from upstairs. It was Allison 
 calling. Lou made no reply. I wanted to say, 
 " Go to him," and I could not. 
 
 " Good-bye, Lou ! " 
 
 Clearly, piercingly, not at all like the husky 
 voice of a few minutes earlier, the words rang 
 out. 
 
 Ah! Lou started at last. 
 
 " What does he mean ? " she cried, laughing 
 hideously. 
 
 A pistol-shot answered her. I screamed 
 shrilly, once, twice, a great many times. In the 
 room above us, a body fell heavily. From the 
 third floor came, like the crazed echo of my 
 panic, the shrieks of Belle St. John. Then ser- 
 vants ran, more women screamed, and I grew 
 still through very terror as I heard Davis cry : 
 
 " Oh, my God ! The master's killed himself ! " 
 
 Lou swayed and caught at a chair. 
 
 " It can't be," she muttered. " He was here 
 a minute ago."
 
 332 Dainty Devils. 
 
 I rushed at her, I believe to strike her. A fly- 
 ing figure in a long white gown separated us. 
 
 "You fiend!" screamed Belle St. John. 
 " What have you done now ? Oh, what did we 
 ever do, that I got St. John, and you Allison? 
 Allison dead ! The only friend I had ! " 
 
 Belle broke off moaning, and tottered to a 
 chair, as Lou pulled herself together. 
 
 " Hush ! He can't be dead. It's some acci- 
 dent, and Davis is telephoning for the doctor." 
 
 Was it strength of nerve or lack of heart ? The 
 woman could still look proud and speak authori- 
 tatively. 
 
 " Annie, Maggie, anybody, run for some doc- 
 tor in the street Dr. Stanton is out." 
 
 Davis was giving orders in an agonized voice. 
 I heard him rush back again to the room where 
 Mr. Allison lay, and saw Belle St. John leap 
 after him, like some frenzied animal. 
 
 " There is no use of my going," said Lou, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 " There is," I said, bitterly, " unless you want 
 the whole house to know why he did it." 
 
 Lou sat down on the edge of the divan. For 
 an instant a look of doubt and despair darkened 
 her face. Then she paled, but sullen determina- 
 tion was in every feature. 
 
 " They will know. He had the Process." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! Can't you get it? "
 
 February. 333 
 
 There was commotion at the hall-door. Hur- 
 ried footsteps, strange, curious voices, smothered 
 arguing and eager questions. 
 
 Lou turned her head toward the window. 
 
 " Annie has brought a doctor and the pub- 
 lic," said she. At last some physical limitation 
 was reached, and she slipped back, white and still 
 upon the cushions. 
 
 Wretchedly I waited for a sound, a word, 
 some message from Mr. Allison. Minutes 
 passed. I could not force myself to go near 
 Lou to help her. Finally she came out of the 
 faint unassisted, and slowly raised herself upon 
 her elbow. Courage seemed to have deserted 
 her for the moment. 
 
 " Dot," she whispered, fearfully, " have you 
 heard anything? " 
 
 Footsteps overhead were as plain to her as to 
 me. I did not answer. I sat with every muscle 
 tense and every nerve throbbing. Lou steadily 
 gathered together her physical strength and men- 
 tal assurance, and after a while calmly disap- 
 peared into the next room. Several strangers, 
 suggestive of a rabble, thronged the hall outside. 
 I was so benumbed by fright that these intrud- 
 ers did not annoy me in the least. 
 
 "Mrs. Allison?" 
 
 A pale young man, undisguisedly agitated, ad- 
 dressed me. His eyes were full of respectful
 
 334 Dainty Devils. 
 
 pity and honest admission of his helplessness. 
 Until he spoke, I had been unaware of his pres- 
 ence. 
 
 " No/' I stammered, relaxing a trifle from 
 my mental rigidity ; " Mrs. Allison is in the next 
 room." 
 
 " I am here." Lou entered quietly, taking a 
 lighted cigarette from her lips as she spoke. 
 
 I stared at her in dull anger. What an actress 
 and what a devil ! Yet I believe now she had 
 no idea that she had picked up a cigarette. It 
 was a strong habit coming to her aid in her dis- 
 tracted state. 
 
 " The accident is," said she, enunciating like 
 one accustomed to some other language than 
 English, " not at all serious, I trust ? There is no 
 cause for alarm ? " 
 
 The young physician gasped. 
 
 " Are you not the doctor ? " asked Lou, in a 
 bored voice. 
 
 " I am, Mrs. Allison " a slight pause, then 
 very clearly and distinctly he said, motioning 
 barely perceptibly toward the group of servants 
 and others at the door, " Mr. Allison has acci- 
 dentally shot himself in a way which leaves small 
 hope for his recovery, although he still breathes." 
 Every word was impressively pronounced, es- 
 pecially " accidentally." 
 
 Lou stood silent, stunned^ delighted or fright-
 
 February. 335 
 
 ened, I do not Know which. I felt a great lump 
 choking me and sending sharp pains through the 
 back of my throat, which is the way a fit of 
 weeping begins when my heart is breaking. Alli- 
 son was dying ! A suicide ! 
 
 " While there is life there is hope." 
 
 It was Lou uttering the words in a mechanical 
 way, which under the circumstances was heath- 
 enish. She probably felt the absolute necessity 
 of saying something. 
 
 " True," said the physician. " Have I your 
 permission to send for nurses ? " He had no time 
 to waste upon Lou. 
 
 " Send for everything that may be necessary. 
 And first of all send those gaping intruders out 
 of the house." 
 
 She went back to the divan and bowed her 
 head, most appropriately, most touchingly for the 
 strange spectators. As for me, I knew she was 
 neither praying nor grieving. Had I been sworn 
 to give my opinion as to the expression of which 
 mood her pretty head and arm concealed, I should 
 have been obliged to say that she was calculat- 
 ing how soon she might expect Percy Earle. 
 
 Dr. Lane said a few grave words to the hu- 
 man' beings, hushed and awed now at the an- 
 nouncement that Mr. Allison had been accident- 
 ally and dangerously shot. They dispersed de- 
 cently The servants to hide upon the stairs and
 
 336 Dainty Devils. 
 
 listen to every word and movement, the strangers 
 to loiter upon the sidewalk in front of the house, 
 and imagine and report what they did not see 
 or hear. 
 
 Short nervous messages were going over the 
 telephone. I was bitterly sorry when Dr. Lane 
 ceased ordering, and returned to his patient. It 
 was a comfort to hear things sent for, nurses 
 summoned to the aid of poor Allison in his mor- 
 tal need. 
 
 Who would have believed him capable of such 
 a deed? The quiet, methodical, undemonstra- 
 tive man who never made a fuss about anything ! 
 Strong feeling seemed far removed from his dis- 
 position. Had impetuous Percy done such a 
 thing, the insanity would not have been so com- 
 pletely out of character. How far must a man 
 suffer before he dares his Creator by taking the 
 life he himself did not give? What was Alli- 
 son's inner life, which the exterior so entirely be- 
 lied? Not one of us had known him neither 
 Jack, nor Lou, nor I. And as for Marion, I re- 
 called what she said that dreary night we drove 
 home from Blashfields' together : " He may be 
 one of the still waters than run deep ! " He had 
 indeed been still, under neglect, and insuft and 
 deceit, but the waters of his sorrow were deep, 
 and at last a mighty agony stirred their depths, 
 an agony that overswept his judgment and rca-
 
 February. 337 
 
 son and faith in God. And he went down a mad- 
 dened atom in the raging deluge. 
 
 But as yet Allison was not dead. He was not 
 yet out of this world we love and think we under- 
 stand, and which we never can fully believe will 
 continue to exist without us. The sunset is still 
 for him to-night where will he be, at to-mor- 
 row's ? 
 
 " My God, have mercy ! " I found myself say- 
 ing. 
 
 Lou stirred. 
 
 " Please don't go into hysterics, Dot," she said, 
 plaintively, as though she were a suffering martyr 
 who ought to be considered and spared as much 
 as possible. " Where is Belle ? " 
 
 " How should I know ? She is probably help- 
 ing Dr. Lane with Mr. Allison." 
 
 I resumed my tearful praying, to be again in- 
 terrupted. 
 
 "Dot, ought I to go up?" Lou turned sud- 
 denly haggard. 
 
 " You know very well what you ought to do," 
 I answered, harshly. " For Mr. Allison's sake, 
 I hope he is unconscious." 
 
 She winced. Then she straightened her gown 
 and left me without a word. I watched her go 
 slowly up the stairs, her head thrown high in de- 
 fiance of her own terror. Over and over again I 
 petitioned wildly, " Oh, God, have mercy ! " not 
 02
 
 338 Dainty Devils. 
 
 knowing in what I hoped the mercy would con- 
 sist. I had paced the length of the room a dozen 
 times before Lou returned. 
 
 " He has never regained consciousness," she 
 said, excitedly ; " and I can't find the Summons." 
 
 My prayer died away. 
 
 " It would have been like Mr. Allison to lock 
 it in his desk before he killed himself," I said, 
 cruelly. 
 
 " Hush ! " Lou cried, sharply. " It was an ac- 
 cident." 
 
 The maid Annie was answering the bell. I 
 remorsefully regretted my speech, and realized 
 at the same instant that it could never be re- 
 called. An interval of black misery came between 
 my words and recognition of Annie upon her 
 way to the door. 
 
 " Mr. Earle, Madam. And two reporters 
 squeezed in with him. I couldn't help it. And 
 master a-dying ! " 
 
 Lou began to tremble. 
 
 " Close the doors," she commanded. " I have 
 nothing to say to the reporters. I will not see 
 them, do you hear? Tell Mr. Earle to come in 
 here." 
 
 Percy was talking to the reporters in a man's 
 decided way I heard " accident " three times. 
 When he came to Lou, Annie clumsily banged 
 the doors shut under the portieres.
 
 February. 339 
 
 " What has happened, Lou ? " 
 
 Suppressed excitement and alarm made Percy's 
 tone stern. 
 
 " Percy ! " With the word, Lou threw herself 
 into his arms. 
 
 In the room directly above us, this woman's 
 husband lay dying; forgetful of the tragedy, of 
 her own guilt, of common every-day decency, she 
 demanded her lover's caresses at this horrible 
 crisis. Love is responsible for much. It is the 
 instigator of the highest and the lowest, the 
 noblest and the meanest acts holy or hellish, 
 according to its origin and aims. Unspeakably 
 revolted by Lou's behavior, I moved towards the 
 door. 
 
 " I am going, Lou/' I said, hastily and miser- 
 ably. 
 
 " No, pardon me, Mrs. Woodward, you are 
 not." Percy supported Lou to a chair, which she 
 had no choice but to take. " Tell me, Lou, what 
 has happened? Is it true that Allison is shot?" 
 
 Lou looked up at him in frightened wonder. 
 
 " Did you think I did it, Percy? " 
 
 The man's face softened, and he patted her 
 head. 
 
 " You poor girl ! What a question ! But why 
 did he try to commit suicide? There must have 
 been a cause." Darkness again settled upon 
 Percy's countenance.
 
 34 Dainty Devils. 
 
 "You ask that, Percy?" 
 
 The tone was low, reproachful, piteously 
 wretched. 
 
 Percy bit his lip. 
 
 " I do ask it," said he, sternly at last. 
 
 " To-day he received the first papers in the " 
 the voice grew stronger " Divorce Suit." 
 
 An ominous silence filled the room. Percy's 
 face seemed cut out of marble. A trembling sigh 
 from Lou broke the spell. 
 
 "Percy!" 
 
 He did not move. His eyes were fixed and his 
 mouth set. 
 
 " Say something to me." Lou clasped his arm 
 and laid her face against his sleeve. 
 
 " You did it for me ? " he asked, in a voice 
 hardly audible. 
 
 " You know I did." 
 
 A smothered groan came from Percy's drawn 
 lips. 
 
 " Yes, dear," he said, forcing the words ; " I 
 know it." 
 
 Another mute pause, while Lou's face pressed 
 Percy's sleeve more closely. His passiveness was 
 like paralysis. At last Lou recognized it. She 
 drew away slowly and her head fell. 
 
 " Are you sorry, Percy ? " Cringing entreaty 
 was in the query. Percy's brow contracted. He
 
 February. 341 
 
 put his hand to his forehead and pressed it dis- 
 tractedly. 
 
 " You are sorry ! " cried Lou, in despair, her 
 face twitching. 
 
 " I cannot be glad that Allison is shot." There 
 was something desperate in Percy's distinct 
 enunciation. 
 
 Lou's breast heaved. Bursting into wild weep- 
 ing she flung herself into Percy's arms. He held 
 her a moment mechanically, his features immov- 
 able. Earnest voices outside the door caused him 
 to start with some sense that there was work to 
 be done for Allison. He half lifted Lou back 
 into her chair, she clinging wildly to him. 
 
 " Stay with me, Percy, stay with me ! " she 
 moaned. 
 
 Percy disengaged her hands. 
 
 " Your husband still lives," he said, in a far- 
 away voice. " Perhaps I can be of use upstairs." 
 
 He drew himself up and walked slowly out of 
 the room, his face no less white than Allison's 
 had been. As the door closed upon him, Lou 
 fell face downward upon the floor, not swooning 
 or ill, but in a paroxysm of fear and anger and 
 disappointment, scratching at the carpet with her 
 finger-nails and beating the floor with her feet. 
 
 As I grew dizzy through fright and disgust, 
 the door opened and Jack, sent for by Davis, came 
 silently toward me; following him was Mar-
 
 34 2 Dainty Devils. 
 
 ion La Grange. They both stopped abruptly at 
 sight of Lou. The next second Jack lifted her 
 without a word and carried her to the divan in 
 the next room. Marion took my hands and 
 held them firmly. Evidently she had been in 
 the house for some time, for she brought a kind 
 of report. 
 
 " We must pray, Dot, we must pray. Dr. 
 Stanton has come, and two nurses, and Dr. Lane 
 will help. They have already begun to operate. 
 There is hardly one chance in a thousand." 
 
 Twilight had fallen and Marion's figure trem- 
 bled like an intangible shadow before my 
 tired eyes. The running back and forth had 
 ceased, and Davis, stationed in the vestibule, was 
 preventing ringing of bells and entrance of re- 
 porters. A deep foreboding silence had taken the 
 place of the earlier commotion and excitement. 
 Even Jack stooping over Lou in the next room, 
 was silent. 
 
 " Marion," I whispered, " sit close to me here, 
 and pray if you can." I could no longer find 
 words for a petition. 
 
 Darkness followed the twilight. No one 
 thought of lights. Lou was, or feigned to be, 
 asleep. The hall-clock chimed every quarter of 
 an hour. Jack joined Marion and me, and we 
 three sat speechless. Carriages frequently 
 stopped before the house; the inquirers they
 
 February. 343 
 
 brought were respectfully disposed of by the 
 waiting Davis. For a while I was conscious of 
 every sound. Later, weariness overcame me and 
 I fell asleep against Jack's shoulder. 
 
 About eight o'clock Jack roused himself, and 
 I awoke. The doctors were leaving, and someone 
 had at last lighted the house. 
 
 " There is a slight possibility that he will re- 
 cover." 
 
 That was the best they could tell Jack. Alli- 
 son had never regained consciousness. They had 
 extracted the ball Oh, yes only the hemor- 
 rhage was very bad. One of the nurses had 
 fainted, and then Mr. Earle had given the ether. 
 Mr. Earle would remain all night, and Dr. Stan- 
 ton would be back at twelve. 
 
 Lou stirred, arose and joined the doctors. 
 
 " It would be better, you think " she faltered. 
 
 " What is it, Lou dear ? " Marion and I heard 
 Jack ask, gently. 
 
 " Should we not send for a clergyman ? " 
 
 Was a tortured conscience prompting her ? 
 
 " As you wish, dear," from Jack. " Arnold is 
 unconscious." 
 
 " Yes, and so we needn't ask old Dr. Bliss," 
 in a quick, nervous whisper. " The Curate of St. 
 Clara's will come at once, I know." 
 
 "Allison detested him," said Jack, forcibly.
 
 344 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Then he must have quickly repented of his can- 
 dor, for he added hastily, " Send for any one who 
 will make it easier for you." 
 
 Sitting by Marion in the dark, I ground my 
 teeth and felt like a wild animal. " Easier for 
 her ! " How much consideration did the wicked 
 wife merit? Let them send for venerable Dr. 
 Bliss, of whom Lou had always been mortally 
 afraid. Of what was Jack thinking? It was 
 Allison who was dying Ah ! And my tears fell 
 hot and fast Jack meant that for Allison there 
 was no longer any help. It mattered nothing 
 who came or went in the house where he had been 
 the master, and where he now lay gasping un- 
 knowingly in his last agony. 
 
 Lou's voice, sweet and chastened, was summon- 
 ing the Curate of St. Clara's who, in spite 
 of Marion's rejection of him, had left neither the 
 ministry nor New York. Afterward Lou passed 
 through the hall on her way from the telephone, 
 and at the open door I caught sight of her face 
 under the strong light. I gripped Marion's hand, 
 and she answered the pressure. Lou might speak 
 calmly, might walk steadily, but her face, 
 grown in a few hours old and pinched, bore the 
 stamp of incredible horror and suffering. And 
 yet ashamed I hid my face against Marion's 
 shoulder I could not force myself to believe that 
 the anguish shadowed heavily upon the white
 
 February. 345 
 
 countenance was for Allison. I had unfortun- 
 ately witnessed the scene between Lou and Percy, 
 as well as Lou's spasms and contortions after he 
 had left her. 
 
 Jack had seen the doctors out. Lou returned 
 to her improvised couch in the drawing-room, 
 and settled herself to await the arrival of the 
 Curate of St. Clara's. Percy Earle had never 
 left Allison's room since he first entered it. Once 
 I heard him speak, and somehow I was thankful 
 he was with Allison. In about half-an-hour the 
 Curate arrived. Lou received him agitatedly and 
 with tears. She did not, however, accompany him 
 to her husband. He agreed with her that she 
 should " spare " herself. For what? 
 
 As Lou and the Curate parted, Jack brought 
 me some coffee. I refused it decidedly, and he 
 quietly put the cup to my lips. The hot, stimu- 
 lating stuff revived me wonderfully. 
 
 " And now, dear, I shall send you home with 
 Marion." 
 
 " Are you coming, too, Jack ? " 
 
 " No, darling ; I can't leave Lou nor Arnold 
 to-night." 
 
 " Then I shall stay, too." 
 
 He tried to dissuade me, although weakly. 
 Marion said if Jack would send a message to her 
 mother, who was ill with a cold, she would re- 
 main with me and that settled the question.
 
 346 Dainty Devils. 
 
 So the ghastly night wore on. 
 
 Cramped and chilled in the early dawn, I 
 awoke from an unrefreshing sleep. Jack had 
 thrown his top-coat over me, and sat sleeping 
 soundly in a chair. Marion, awake, was at the 
 window, her forehead resting upon her hand. 
 
 " Marion ! " 
 
 " Yes, Dot," starting. " You've been asleep." 
 
 " Have you heard anything. " 
 
 Marion's eyes filled. 
 
 " They sent for Lou fifteen minutes ago." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " The curate came for her. He stayed all 
 night." 
 
 "Hello! Yes! What is it?" 
 
 Jack awoke in great confusion, and stared 
 blankly at us. 
 
 " How cold it is ! " he muttered. Then he re- 
 membered where he was, and why, and sprang up 
 eagerly. 
 
 " The doctors said Allison would be safe if 
 he saw the morning," exclaimed he, animatedly. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Marion, heart-brokenly. 
 
 She could see the Curate of St. Clara's and 
 Percy Earle coming slowly, silently. Both men 
 were pale, and Percy had been weeping. The 
 Curate was posing, his hands with the fingers
 
 February. 347 
 
 pressed together as the acolytes walk in proces- 
 sion, his chin in the air, his eyes rolled heaven- 
 ward. Percy's head was low, and tall as he is, 
 he seemed short in his limp carriage beside the 
 stiff figure of the clergyman. They came to us 
 almost side-by-side. The Curate broke the mes- 
 sage in a manner of studied impressiveness : 
 
 " Mr. Allison has just died ; he never recovered 
 consciousness." 
 
 Jack bowed his head. The Curate continued, 
 rising slightly upon his toes. 
 
 " It would be well if you and Mrs. Woodward 
 would go to the stricken widow. Mrs. St. John 
 is " he coughed " helpless, and Mrs. Allison 
 needs some one." 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, absently, " I shall go." He 
 seemed stunned. 
 
 Chimes for an early service suddenly floated 
 in upon our weary, straining ears. All started, 
 questioning one another with quick, uncompre- 
 hending glances. 
 
 " It is Ash Wednesday," the Curate began, be- 
 nignly enlightening us. " ' Remember man, that 
 thou are dust, and unto dust thou shalt return.' 
 How sadly appropriate under these solemn cir- 
 cumstances ! " 
 
 The man was affected and theatrical, even in 
 the presence of death. He quoted in a profes- 
 sional sing-song and rolled his eyes frantically.
 
 348 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Jack turned from him to me and spoke ten- 
 derly : 
 
 " You, dear, shall not go to Lou. Wait for me 
 here, and I'll take you home in a few minutes. 
 The nurses will stay with her." 
 
 The chimes continued, sweet, touching, invit- 
 ing, in the dawn of a new day. Percy Earle 
 suddenly raised his head. He had worn a sur- 
 plice only five years back in St. Clara's choir. 
 His eyes, feverish and frightened, wandered pite- 
 ously over the room till they met Marion's. 
 There they rested in boyish appeal. 
 
 " Marion," he said in a kind of husky whisper, 
 " shall we go to church together ? Out in the 
 air I am suffocating ! Then to the chapel, where 
 it is quiet and one can think." 
 
 The girl spoke quietly, apparently without sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " If there is nothing more for you to do here." 
 
 " No, no," Jack interposed. " Go, both of you. 
 I am here, and the duty is mine. Percy was 
 awake all night." 
 
 " And I shall be only too happy to assist," said 
 the Curate, unctuously. He supplemented this 
 with a sigh and the remark, " Although I was 
 awake all night, too." He had at last allowed 
 his prayerful hands to assume a normal position. 
 
 " If you will remain here with Mrs. Wood- 
 ward," suggested Jack, unconscious of the pen-
 
 February. 349 
 
 ance he was inflicting upon me, by assigning me 
 to so much poorer company than my own; the 
 Curate bowed. 
 
 They left me, first Marion and Percy, then 
 Jack. I believe the Curate essayed some pious 
 discourse, to which I made no response. In 
 mute misery I waited Jack's return. People had 
 come and gone, the chimes had ceased for an hour 
 and begun again, before he was back and 
 huddling me into a cloak. I was passive now, 
 my emotions having exhausted themselves. Only 
 once during the short drive home, a sudden recol- 
 lection of Belle St. John caused me to ask where 
 she was. Jack groaned. 
 
 " In her room, Dot, oblivious of everything. 
 Dr. Stanton was alarmed at first. She took an 
 overdose of laudanum." 
 
 I was not shocked nor worried. Jack carried 
 me upstairs and Perkins, wide-eyed and curious, 
 put me to bed. Then Jack gave me something 
 bitter to drink, and I became drowsy. As in a 
 dream I heard him say to Perkins : 
 
 " Burn every morning-paper in the house, do 
 you hear? And under no circumstances allow 
 anyone to see Mrs. Woodward."
 
 MARCH. 
 
 Two weeks ago poor Allison was laid away in 
 Greenwood. I begged Jack to allow me to go 
 to the funeral, to show my last mournful respect 
 to the man who in life had been singularly with- 
 out the solace of attention and consideration. 
 Jack remained gently obdurate, and I perforce 
 remained at home, where I had been grieving and 
 half-sick in my room since the day Allison died, 
 while Jack, very white and serious in his black 
 clothes, drove off alone to the funeral. 
 
 Perkins undoubtedly believed I was asleep on 
 the couch in the darkened boudoir, for she stole 
 out on tiptoe after Jack had gone. I lay still 
 for some time, crying softly as I brooded over the 
 thought that never again upon earth should I 
 hear Allison's voice or see his face. As the clock 
 struck ten I sprang up nervously. Dr. Bliss was 
 beginning the service. " I am the Resurrection 
 and the Life ! " I could hear him, I could see 
 Jack's pale face, and Percy Earle's ! What were 
 Lou's feelings, and how was she bearing herself ? 
 
 Marion, like everybody I knew, was at the 
 
 350
 
 March. 351 
 
 funeral. The loneliness of my room grew un- 
 bearable. Strangely excited, I hurried down- 
 stairs, why I do not know, for the lower rooms 
 are bigger and drearier than my own. I wan- 
 dered about, pausing once at a window to gaze 
 out over the Park where the grass was already 
 beginning to show brilliantly green between 
 patches of snow. There is yellow as of light in 
 the first green of spring. Last year I had 
 greeted it with lively joy, as the precur- 
 sor of a beautiful summer ; now, it only made me 
 remember that Allison was going to his grave 
 in that solemn country, the cemetery, where 
 the grass was springing as tenderly and as 
 brightly as in the Park. The trees were bare and 
 brown, but beautiful in the maze of interlacing 
 twigs against a sky which was deeply blue ex- 
 cept in one great space over the horizon, where 
 a million pearly broken shells seemed scattered 
 broadcast. Had I ever seen quite such clouds 
 before? I asked myself. I must call Jack but 
 no ; Jack was away : for to-day they were burying 
 Allison. 
 
 I shuddered in the sunshine, and went listlessly 
 back to the library. Many papers lay piled upon 
 the table. Aimlessly I picked one up, glanced at 
 it, cried out as though in physical pain, threw it 
 down as if it stung me, then snatched it up again. 
 
 This is what I read in big headlines ;
 
 35 2 Dainty Devils. 
 
 "ARNOLD WHITNEY ALLISON A SUI- 
 CIDE." 
 
 " PROMINENT YOUNG BROKER SHOOTS 
 HIMSELF WIFE ONE OF THE MOST 
 BEAUTIFUL WOMEN IN SOCIETY- 
 HER APPLICATION FOR ABSOLUTE 
 DIVORCE CAUSE OF THE RASH ACT- 
 JEALOUS OF HIS VISITS AT THE 
 HOUSE OF MRS. J. WORTHINGTON 
 WOODWARD." 
 
 I reeled. Here was the reason Jack had said 
 reading would be bad for my eyes because I had 
 strained them by crying so much ! 
 
 " Liar ! " I found myself gasping. 
 
 The paper bore the date of Allison's death. I 
 crushed it between my hands and picked up an- 
 other. I did not at once find the article I sought, 
 but it was there Oh, yes, it was there ! Red ink 
 this time and taller capitals ! 
 
 "MAN DISCHARGED FROM WOOD- 
 WARD HOUSE GIVES IMPORTANT 
 INFORMATION ABOUT MR. ALLI- 
 SON'S VISITS THERE." 
 
 I glared at the words. At first they meant 
 nothing. A few seconds of mental groping, and
 
 March. 353 
 
 I recollected Crosson, the man I had caused to 
 be sent away. 
 
 "What shall I do?" 
 
 There were many more papers. Ought I find 
 out more of the infamous falsehoods New York 
 was reading ? No I would not. But as I threw 
 the second sheet down, in spite of myself I read : 
 
 "RUMORS THAT MR. WOODWARD 
 WILL INSTITUTE LIBEL SUIT 
 AGAINST TWO DAILY PAPERS." 
 
 A law-suit, in my imagination, was a horror, 
 a disgrace. And a law-suit about me ! To be read 
 of not only here, but in Graytown ! And every- 
 thing lies, black, diabolical inventions, while the 
 guilty went untouched ! 
 
 o O O Oh ! " 
 
 Distracted, I ran screaming back to my room, 
 to be rapidly followed by Perkins, who it seems, 
 had been strictly forbidden to leave me one in- 
 stant alone. Evidently for an excellent reason. 
 
 " Madam, Madam ! I thought you were asleep ! 
 Oh, what will the master say, if you have seen the 
 papers ! " Perkins wrung her hands. 
 
 I pushed her away as she knelt beside me. 
 
 " It was wrong to deceive me so long ! O O 
 O O ! Perkins, how could you lie to me ? 
 Everybody in the world is a liar ! " 
 
 23
 
 354 Dainty Devils. 
 
 " I lie to you ? I never did, God knows," tear- 
 fully solemn. 
 
 " You should have told me," I reproached her, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " The master forbid. And indeed, what good 
 could I do? The reporters asked for you often 
 enough, to be sure. The house has been over- 
 run with the creatures." 
 
 This last was uttered in such superior disdain 
 that in the midst of my suffering I scented some- 
 thing back of it, and asked : 
 
 "What did they do, Perkins?" 
 
 " Huh ! They asked a million impudent ques- 
 tions and when I'd answered 'em as Mr. Wood- 
 ward ordered, they put me into the papers as 
 ' Mrs. Woodward's Ancient Serving- Woman ! ' ' 
 
 Only a step from laughter to tears, and when 
 one is hysterical, only a jerk from tears to ner- 
 vous laughter. Probably at the moment they 
 were lowering Allison into his grave, I burst into 
 uproarious laughter, at the title which, pictorially 
 at least, fitted Perkins with such delicious per- 
 fection. 
 
 " Madam ! O ! Lordy ! Has she lost her rea- 
 son ! What shall I say to the master ? And in- 
 deed he said he feared for her mind ! " 
 
 Still I laughed, painfully, mirthlessly, and 
 could not stop. 
 
 Perkins has boundless faith in aromatic spirits
 
 March. 355 
 
 of ammonia. Having regarded me with con- 
 science-stricken horror for several seconds, she 
 brightened at last, and rising from her knees 
 flew to prepare a dose for me. 
 
 Sputtering I gulped it down, and after a while, 
 relapsed into merely an occasional giggle, which 
 improvement Perkins gratefully laid to her medi- 
 cine. When, however, a dreadful fit of weeping 
 presently came upon me, she sat down in silent 
 despair and cried with me, most of the long, 
 wretched day, till Jack came home. I am not 
 ashamed to say that I was soothed by the fact that 
 Perkins's tears were for me. 
 
 Perkins very courageously met Jack in the 
 hall and made her confession I had been left 
 alone, and had found the papers. There was an 
 angry exclamation, quickly smothered, and fol- 
 lowed by a few calm words directing Perkins to 
 be more faithful to her trust in the future. Sob- 
 bingly, she promised, and reiterated her apologies 
 again and again. With one of the mightiest 
 efforts I have ever made, I greeted Jack 
 calmly as he came to me, sad and anxious, and 
 whispered : 
 
 " Never mind, dear I had to know it some 
 time." 
 
 " Dear little Dot ! I feared you would not be 
 so brave." 
 
 What wife who loves her husband, is not brave
 
 356 Dainty Devils. 
 
 so long as his arm is around her? It is when 
 Jack is away that my heart seems breaking with 
 grief and disappointment and the bitter sense of 
 horrible injustice not only to me, but to poor 
 dead Allison. I cannot sleep or rest, and I 
 have refused to leave the house all this time. 
 Neither will I allow anyone to see me, ( except 
 Marion. She is very quiet, and will not 
 speak of the newspapers. In truth, we are both 
 silent and constrained during the hours we spend 
 together, and never mention Allison, Lou, Belle, 
 or Percy Earle. Are we afraid ? 
 
 Jack took me to Lakewood for ten days. I 
 was no better there, and was glad to come home. 
 The newspapers have at last dropped Mr. Alli- 
 son and all who knew him, from their sensa- 
 tional columns. But I shrink back in the carriage 
 every time I pass anyone I know, for the stares 
 cut me as no one, not even precious Jack, can 
 understand, and I imagine that behind every cor- 
 dial word lie unspoken ridicule and condemna- 
 tion. If I dared, I would go back to Graytown, 
 my dear old home, where only a little over a 
 year ago I met Jack, and was so happy in the 
 firm belief that the world was as good and true 
 as it is beautiful! 
 
 Dr. Stanton, because Jack wished it, has or'
 
 March. 357 
 
 dered me a tonic, which I obediently swallow, and 
 I suppose, without harm. Whenever Marion is 
 here, I make her take some, and, oddly 
 enough, it does seem to benefit her. She is get- 
 ting stouter, and her eyes have lost their weary 
 expression. I am glad Dr. Stanton's time and 
 trouble are not entirely wasted, although they 
 have not helped the patient for whom they were 
 intended. 
 
 Lou is hurriedly settling up her affairs, as she 
 and Belle will sail for Europe next month. Jack 
 told me, very sadly, that Belle will probably be 
 left in a sanitarium in Paris, where Lou pur- 
 poses spending a year visiting friends. I have 
 not seen them, nor will I, even to say good-bye. 
 Lou did nothing to prevent my being named as 
 the cause of her divorce. I am neither hypocrite 
 enough nor Christian enough to forgive her SQ 
 soon.
 
 APRIL. 
 
 DR. STANTON has told Jack to take me to Swit- 
 zerland. The doctor seems to think I need a 
 high altitude after my recent experiences. I am 
 quite certain that I do Only even more a 
 high mental plane,, than any amount of material 
 Alps. Jack has tried all sorts of diversion here 
 mostly along his favorite line of gifts and 
 when a St. Bernard puppy, a new automobile, and 
 a whole string of pear-shaped pearls, failed 
 to stimulate me although administered in rapid 
 succession the dear old chap gave in to the 
 blues, and I believe asked Dr. Stanton whether 
 I were going to die. This question must have 
 disgusted the venerable physician beyond meas- 
 ure. Jack told me, in rather an aggrieved way, 
 that I possessed a perfect constitution, and that 
 Dr. Stanton said all I needed was to be, " Got- 
 ten out of this." Which phrase, translated, 
 means across the wide ocean blessed barrier for 
 many a tortured soul! and amongst new indi- 
 viduals and conditions. 
 
 At this message I copiously wept: because I 
 
 358
 
 April. 359 
 
 weep at everything now-a-days. More mature 
 consideration of it dried my tears. So far from 
 the place where so much misery and treachery 
 have occurred, I hope I shall be able to forget 
 a great deal. That roaring ocean ought to be 
 able to drown the voices I frequently fancy I 
 hear, startling me in a nervous terror out of 
 sleep, or even waking tranquillity. " Good-bye, 
 Lou ! " Those words of poor Allison haunt me 
 dreadfully; as though his soul would not suffer 
 itself to be forgotten, they ring out apparently 
 close beside me, and I jump, and then cringe, 
 waiting for the following pistol-shot. 
 
 Looking back the few months I have lived in 
 New York, my life appears a succession of night- 
 mares. Why was I so tortured ? Ridiculed, crit- 
 icised into a condition of morbid sensitiveness and 
 distrust, at the last I was used as a scape-goat 
 for a wicked and unprincipled woman. What 
 brutal instinct led Lou to drag me into the pres- 
 ence of her tragedy ? There were scores of 
 her friends who, lightly enough, would have acted 
 this r61e for her. Only there was none whom 
 Allison had approved, none to whom he had 
 ever displayed aught beyond the coldest formal 
 courtesy. He happened to like me; and Lou, 
 calculating cleverly as well as unscrupulously, 
 found a plausible victim presented by circum- 
 stances, innocent as the dreams of a child.
 
 360 Dainty Devils. 
 
 Proud Gretchen von Waldeck! In the minds 
 of many you stand disgraced, none the less be- 
 cause entirely unjustly. Why do you complain? 
 Do not men go to the electric-chair, convicted 
 upon circumstantial evidence ? To my husband's 
 face, Lou dared to say, " Appearances were 
 against Dot." And for appearances am I crushed 
 and humbled, in order that she may play the 
 wronged one to her world. Ah well ! Another 
 wretch is deprived of his Constitutional right to 
 life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, upon 
 no firmer ground. 
 
 What did poor Emperor Frederick use as his 
 motto? Learn to suffer without complaining. 
 I cannot. The waters of bitterness are upon me, 
 
 and in my despair I must cry out. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Lou accomplished her own defeat. She proved 
 herself too wicked for Percy Earle. Her 
 intended master-stroke was her destruction, and 
 completely cured the boy of his folly. Turning 
 in his sickening remorse and humiliation to Mar- 
 ion, he found all the opposites of Lou's revolting 
 characteristics. It was not Dr. Stanton's tonic 
 which helped Marion: Percy has been the 
 miracle-worker and Marion's face shines in a 
 new and different fashion, that does not cause an 
 unhappy foreboding of her early demise. Some 
 time before Christmas, I am to crown her with
 
 April. 361 
 
 orange-blossoms, and, as matron-of-honor, pre- 
 cede her up the aisle of St. Clara's, to the music 
 of the Wedding March. Dr. Bliss, and not the 
 curate, will officiate. 
 
 In a dusky corner of the library, Marion and 
 Percy sit side-by-side. They talk in those short 
 sentences following long silences, which belong 
 peculiarly to lovers. Marion says, " Dearest," 
 Percy responds, " Sweetheart." There was more, 
 but I caught only these words. 
 
 The hate in my heart wavers, then fades away. 
 Hope enters, in full strength and beauty, smil- 
 ing, promising. The dim library becomes a place 
 of refulgent glory, for love is here. Glancing at 
 Marion and Percy, who could continue in de- 
 
 spair 
 
 Into the twilight the figure of the Master seems 
 to steal, benignant as at that far-away Marriage- 
 feast in Cana of Galilee. The miracle of love 
 is wrought again. For, suddenly animated by 
 a fresh, life-giving faith in human nature and 
 its highest possibilities, my whole soul exclaims, 
 in a burst of grateful jubilation : 
 
 " The waters the most bitter waters are 
 turned into wine!" 
 
 THE END.
 
 A f\f\ ""illll