Invitations had been pouring in upon us since the delivery of our
letters of introduction, and it was now the evening of our debut in
Edinburgh society. Francesca had volunteered to perform the task of
leaving cards, ordering a private victoria for the purpose, and arraying
herself in purple and fine linen.
“Much depends upon the first impression,” she had said. “Miss Hamilton's
'party' may not be gifted, but it is well-dressed. My hope is that
some of our future hostesses will be looking from the second-story
front-windows. If they are, I can assure them in advance that I shall be
a national advertisement.”
It is needless to remark that as it began to rain heavily as she was
leaving the house, she was obliged to send back the open carriage,
and order, to save time, one of the public cabs from the stand in the
Terrace.
“Would you mind having the lamiter, being first in line?” asked Susanna
of Salemina, who had transmitted the command.
When Salemina fails to understand anything, the world is kept in
complete ignorance.--Least of all would she stoop to ask a humble
maidservant to translate the vernacular of the country; so she replied
affably, “Certainly, Susanna, that is the kind we always prefer. I
suppose it is covered?”
Francesca did not notice, until her coachman alighted to deliver the
first letter and cards, that he had one club foot and one wooden leg;
it was then that the full significance of 'lamiter' came to her. He was
covered, however, as Salemina had supposed, and the occurrence gave us
a precious opportunity of chaffing that dungeon of learning. He was
tolerably alert and vigorous, too, although he certainly did not impart
elegance to a vehicle, and he knew every street in the court end of
Edinburgh, and every close and wynd in the Old Town. On this our first
meeting with him, he faltered only when Francesca asked him last of all
to drive to 'Kildonan House, Helmsdale'; supposing, not unnaturally,
that it was as well known an address as Morningside House, Tipperlinn,
whence she had just come. The lamiter had never heard of Kildonan House
nor of Helmsdale, and he had driven in the streets of Auld Reekie for
thirty years. None of the drivers whom he consulted could supply any
information; Susanna Crum cudna say that she had ever heard of it, nor
could Mrs. M'Collop, nor could Miss Diggity-Dalgety. It was reserved for
Lady Baird to explain that Helmsdale was two hundred and eighty miles
north, and that Kildonan House was ten miles from the Helmsdale railway
station, so that the poor lamiter would have had a weary drive even had
he known the way. The friends who had given us letters to Mr. and Mrs.
Jameson-Inglis (Jimmyson-Ingals) must have expected us either to visit
John o' Groats on the northern border, and drop in on Kildonan House
en route, or to send our note of introduction by post and await an
invitation to pass the summer. At all events, the anecdote proved very
pleasing to our Edinburgh acquaintances. I hardly know whether, if they
should visit America, they would enjoy tales of their own stupidity
as hugely as they did the tales of ours, but they really were very
appreciative in this particular, and it is but justice to ourselves to
say that we gave them every opportunity for enjoyment.
But I must go back to our first grand dinner in Scotland. We were
dressed at quarter-past seven, when, in looking at the invitation again,
we discovered that the dinner-hour was eight o'clock, not seven-thirty.
Susanna did not happen to know the exact approximate distance to
Fotheringay Crescent, but the maiden Boots affirmed that it was only two
minutes' drive, so we sat down in front of the fire to chat.
It was Lady Baird's birthday feast to which we had been bidden, and
we had done our best to honour the occasion. We had prepared a large
bouquet tied with the Maclean tartan (Lady Baird is a Maclean), and had
printed in gold letters on one of the ribbons, 'Another for Hector,' the
battle-cry of the clan. We each wore a sprig of holly, because it is the
badge of the family, while I added a girdle and shoulder-knot of
tartan velvet to my pale green gown, and borrowed Francesca's emerald
necklace,--persuading her that she was too young to wear such jewels in
the old country.
Francesca was miserably envious that she had not thought of tartans
first. “You may consider yourself 'geyan fine,' all covered over with
Scotch plaid, but I wouldn't be so 'kenspeckle' for worlds!” she said,
using expressions borrowed from Mrs. M'Collop; “and as for disguising
your nationality, do not flatter yourself that you look like anything
but an American. I forgot to tell you the conversation I overheard in
the tram this morning, between a mother and daughter, who were talking
about us, I dare say. 'Have they any proper frocks for so large a party,
Bella?' asked the mother.
“'I thought I explained in the beginning, mamma, that they are
Americans.'
“'Still, you know they are only travelling,--just passing through, as
it were; they may not be familiar with our customs, and we do want our
party to be a smart one.'
“'Wait until you see them, mamma, and you will probably feel like hiding
your diminished head! It is my belief that if an American lady takes a
half-hour journey in a tram she carries full evening dress and a diamond
necklace, in case anything should happen on the way. I am not in the
least nervous about their appearance. I only hope that they will not be
too exuberant; American girls are so frightfully vivacious and informal,
I always feel as if I were being taken by the throat!'”
“A picturesque, though rather vigorous expression; however, it does
no harm to be perfectly dressed,” said Salemina consciously, putting a
steel embroidered slipper on the fender and settling the holly in the
silver folds of her gown; “then when they discover that we are all well
bred, and that one of us is intelligent, it will be the more credit to
the country that gave us birth.”
“Of course it is impossible to tell what country did give YOU birth,”
retorted Francesca, “but that will only be to your advantage--away from
home!”
Francesca is inflexibly, almost aggressively American, but Salemina is a
citizen of the world. If the United States should be involved in a war,
I am confident that Salemina would be in front with the other Gatling
guns, for in that case a principle would be at stake; but in all lesser
matters she is extremely unprejudiced. She prefers German music, Italian
climate, French dressmakers, English tailors, Japanese manners, and
American--American something--I have forgotten just what; it is either
the ice-cream soda or the form of government,--I can't remember which.
“I wonder why they named it 'Fotheringay' Crescent,” mused Francesca.
“Some association with Mary Stuart, of course. Poor, poor, pretty lady!
A free queen only six years, and think of the number of beds she slept
in, and the number of trees she planted; we have already seen, I am
afraid to say how many. When did she govern, when did she scheme,
above all when did she flirt, with all this racing and chasing over the
country? Mrs. M'Collop calls Anne of Denmark a 'sad scattercash' and
Mary an 'awfu' gadabout,' and I am inclined to agree with her. By the
way, when she was making my bed this morning, she told me that her
mother claimed descent from the Stewarts of Appin, whoever they may be.
She apologised for Queen Mary's defects as if she were a distant family
connection. If so, then the famous Stuart charm has been lost somewhere,
for Mrs M'Collop certainly possesses no alluring curves of temperament.”
“I am going to select some distinguished ancestors this very minute,
before I go to my first Edinburgh dinner,” said I decidedly. “It seems
hard that ancestors should have everything to do with settling our
nationality and our position in life, and we not have a word to say. How
nice it would be to select one's own after one had arrived at years
of discretion, or to adopt different ones according to the country one
chanced to be visiting! I am going to do it; it is unusual, but there
must be a pioneer in every good movement. Let me think: do help me,
Salemina! I am a Hamilton to begin with; I might be descended from the
logical Sir William himself, and thus become the idol of the university
set!”
“He died only about thirty years ago, and you would have to be his
daughter: that would never do,” said Salemina. “Why don't you take
Thomas Hamilton, Earl of Melrose and Haddington? He was Secretary of
State, King's Advocate, Lord President of the Court of Session, and all
sorts of fine things. He was the one King James used to call 'Tam o' the
Cowgate'!”
“Perfectly delightful! I don't care so much about his other titles, but
'Tam o' the Cowgate' is irresistible. I will take him. He was my--what
was he?”
“He was at least your great-great-great-great-grandfather; that is a
safe distance. Then there's that famous Jenny Geddes, who flung her
fauld-stule at the Dean in St. Giles',--she was a Hamilton too, if you
fancy her!”
“Yes, I'll take her with pleasure,” I responded thankfully. “Of course
I don't know why she flung the stool,--it may have been very
reprehensible; but there is always good stuff in stool-flingers; it's
the sort of spirit one likes to inherit in diluted form. Now, whom will
you take?”
“I haven't even a peg on which to hang a Scottish ancestor,” said
Salemina disconsolately.
“Oh, nonsense! think harder. Anybody will do as a starting-point; only
you must be honourable and really show relationship, as I did with Jenny
and Tam.”
“My aunt Mary-Emma married a Lindsay,” ventured Salemina hesitatingly.
“That will do,” I answered delightedly.
“'The Gordons gay in English blude
They wat their hose and shoon;
The Lindsays flew like fire aboot
Till a' the fray was dune.'
“You can play that you are one of the famous 'licht Lindsays,' and you
can look up the particular ancestor in your big book. Now, Francesca,
it's your turn!”
“I am American to the backbone,” she declared, with insufferable
dignity. “I do not desire any foreign ancestors.”
“Francesca!” I expostulated. “Do you mean to tell me that you can dine
with a lineal descendant of Sir Fitzroy Donald Maclean, Baronet, of
Duart and Morven, and not make any effort to trace your genealogy back
further than your parents?”
“If you goad me to desperation,” she answered, “I will wear an
American flag in my hair, declare that my father is a Red Indian, or a
pork-packer, and talk about the superiority of our checking system and
hotels all the evening. I don't want to go, any way. It is sure to
be stiff and ceremonious, and the man who takes me in will ask me the
population of Chicago and the amount of wheat we exported last year,--he
always does.”
“I can't see why he should,” said I. “I am sure you don't look as if you
knew.”
“My looks have thus far proved no protection,” she replied sadly.
“Salemina is so flexible, and you are so dramatic, that you enter into
all these experiences with zest. You already more than half believe
in that Tam o' the Cowgate story. But there'll be nothing for me in
Edinburgh society; it will be all clergymen--”
“Ministers” interjected Salemina,--“all ministers and professors. My
Redfern gowns will be unappreciated, and my Worth evening frocks worse
than wasted!”
“There are a few thousand medical students,” I said encouragingly, “and
all the young advocates, and a sprinkling of military men--they know
Worth frocks.”
“And,” continued Salemina bitingly, “there will always be, even in an
intellectual city like Edinburgh, a few men who continue to escape
all the developing influences about them, and remain commonplace,
conventional manikins, devoted to dancing and flirting. Never fear, they
will find you!”
This sounds harsh, but nobody minds Salemina, least of all Francesca,
who well knows that she is the apple of that spinster's eye. But at
this moment Susanna opens the door (timorously, as if there might be a
panther behind it) and announces the cab (in the same tone in which she
would announce the beast); we pick up our draperies, and are whirled off
by the lamiter to dine with the Scottish nobility.