AT THE TENNIS COURT.
She was not too tired. Her aunt took care of that, and made her rest
while she prepared supper.
“I want you to be fresh and to hold your own with them,” she said, happy
that Elithe was at last to be introduced into society as represented by
the tennis club.
It was very select. Not every one could gain admittance, as one “No”
rejected the applicant, whoever he or she might be. Any member, however,
could bring a friend, and no objections made. Paul was the president of
the club, while Clarice was the prime mover of its exclusiveness. Paul
had wished to take Elithe there before, thinking she must be lonely,
knowing so few young people as she did. Clarice, to whom he proposed it,
vetoed it at once.
“She wouldn’t enjoy it,” she said. “She don’t play. She knows none of
the members. None of them know her, and besides that, you don’t want her
feelings hurt. That old flannel she wears incessantly would be out of
place among the gay dresses of the young ladies who might laugh at her.”
“Not if they were ladies,” Paul answered, quickly, wondering why clothes
should make so much difference with women.
He didn’t care whether a fellow’s coat were old or new, if he liked the
fellow, but he gave up the idea of taking Elithe to the club until he
suggested it again on her return from Boston. Nothing could be more _en
regle_ than her attire, and Miss Hansford looked after her with pride,
as she walked down the path with Paul and turned into the avenue.
“Carries herself like a duchess. Nobody’d know but what she’d lived in a
city all her life,” she thought, wondering how Clarice would receive
her.
Clarice was not in a humor to receive any one very cordially. She had
just had a letter from Jack which annoyed her exceedingly, and she was
anxious to show it to Paul. He was usually early at the court, and, with
Jack’s letter in her pocket, she waited for him to come, declining to
play and seeming very much out of sorts. All the élite of the club were
there, and two or three games were in progress when Paul at last turned
the corner with Elithe.
“Where is Mr. Ralston?” a young lady said to Clarice; then, as she saw
him in the distance, she added: “There he is now, and some one with him.
Who can it be? Gen. Ray’s daughter, from New York, perhaps. They are
expected here. She’s lovely, any way, and, look at her ripple skirt,
seven yards wide, I am sure. It hangs well, too. How graceful she is,
and what a pretty hat! There is something about a New York girl which
marks her from a stiff Bostonian like me.”
If a face as fair as Clarice’s can turn dark hers did as she listened
and looked at the slowly approaching couple. She had not seen Elithe
since the meeting in the water, but she knew that Miss Hansford had gone
to Boston, and that Elithe had gone with her. The little Daily News
published in Oak City had it among the Personals, and she had wondered,
when she read it, of what possible interest it could be to the world at
large to know anything of Miss Hansford’s movements and who had notified
the editor.
“Did it themselves, I dare say,” she said, as she threw the paper aside
and thought no more of it.
Paul had given the Personal to the editor, thinking it would please Miss
Hansford and Elithe to have their movements published with those of Gov.
Tracy’s family, just arrived from Paris, and the President at Buzzard’s
Bay, and Joe Jefferson, whose young kinswoman was soon to be married.
Had he known where Miss Hansford was stopping in Boston he would have
sent her a paper. As he didn’t know he kept a copy for her, but forgot
to give it to her when he called for Elithe. He was telling the latter
about it as they came up to the court, not that he sent the Personal,
but that he saw it.
“I wish I had a paper to send to father. I never saw my name in print in
my life,” Elithe said, pleased with the attention.
To be mentioned with the President and Joe Jefferson and Gov. Tracy was
something to be proud of, and her face was beaming with pleasure at the
honor and with delight at the scene the tennis court presented, with the
gay dresses of the ladies and the fanciful costumes of the men.
“Isn’t she lovely?” the young lady who had first called Clarice’s
attention to her, continued.
“Looks well enough, but I don’t call her lovely, and it isn’t Miss Ray,
either. It’s that Hansford girl,” Clarice replied, with a toss of her
head.
Who the Hansford girl was the young lady didn’t know, but she watched
her as she came up with Paul, who did not at first see Clarice. When he
did he went to her, apologizing for being late and saying: “I have
brought Miss Hansford with me.”
Clarice bowed stiffly, but did not speak. She was taking in every detail
of Elithe’s dress, and wondering at the transformation and hating her
for the attention she was attracting. Paul introduced her to those who
were not playing, all of whom received her cordially and wondered they
had never met her before. The young men especially vied with each other
in their attentions to her. At least half a dozen urged her to play, and
offered to teach her. She ought to be in the club, they said, and they
would propose her name at once if she wished it. Elithe possessed the
talent of adaptability to a great extent, and, although this was her
first introduction to Oak City’s Four Hundred, she was wholly
self-possessed, and received the attention paid her as if she had been
accustomed to it all her life. She was fond of society, but had seen
little of it since coming to Oak City, and it was very pleasant to find
herself the centre of attraction, and to hear so many express their
pleasure at meeting her. Before she quite realized it, she was trying
her hand at the game, proving an apt scholar and never making a move
which was not graceful and lady-like. Many were the whispered inquiries
as to who she was, and where she came from, and the fact that she was
from the wilds of Montana did not in the least detract from the interest
in her.
Only Clarice kept aloof, sitting just where she sat when Paul came up
with Elithe. She had a headache, and was too tired and hot to play, she
said, and was going home. But she waited and watched Elithe until the
game was over, and then arose to go.
“Don’t trouble yourself to go with me. Stay with Miss Hansford by all
means,” she said to Paul, who, until then, had not thought it necessary
to accompany her, as the Percy cottage was not more than fifty rods
away, and it was still daylight, with a full moon rising over the sea.
Now, however, he knew by the tone he was learning that it was necessary.
“I am sorry to take you away, but as Miss Percy is tired I think we will
go with her,” he said to Elithe, who, flushed with exercise and
pleasure, was looking very bright and beautiful, and around whom the
young men were gathered as bees gather around a flower.
Two or three of them at once protested against her leaving, saying they
would see her home. Elithe thanked them, but decided to go with Paul and
Clarice. The latter was very silent until the cottage was reached. Then
she said: “Good-night, Miss Hansford. I am sure you will excuse Mr.
Ralston if he stops with me. There is something I particularly wish to
tell him.”
“Certainly,” Elithe replied, and was turning away when Paul laid his
hand on her shoulder and detained her.
He had not been pleased with Clarice’s manner at the court, and he was
less pleased with it now.
“I brought Miss Hansford here,” he said, in a tone of annoyance, “and I
shall see her home. You can go with us, if you like.”
Clarice’s face was like a thunder cloud as she saw herself thwarted, but
if she could not keep Paul from a long walk alone with Elithe in one way
she would in another, and after a moment she said: “Of course I’ll go,
but suppose we take a car. There’s one coming now.”
Had he been alone with either of the girls, Paul would have preferred
walking. As it was he did not care whether he walked or rode, and the
three were soon put down on the avenue opposite Miss Hansford’s cottage.
Elithe did not ask them in, but Paul unceremoniously seated himself upon
the steps and began to talk of the fine view with the sunset colors on
Lake Eau Claire and the moonlight on the sea beyond. Clarice remained
standing, nor did Elithe ask her to sit down, knowing that she would
refuse. There was a silent antagonism between the two which Paul felt
and which made him uncomfortable in spite of his affected gayety. When
she had stood as long as she could endure it Clarice said, persuasively:
“Come, Paul, I’m very tired, and Miss Hansford does not want to be kept
out here all night.”
Then he arose, shook hands with Elithe and said to Clarice: “I’m ready.
Come on.”