THE HOUSE PARTY—CONTINUED
Dinner had been concluded some time ago. The girls were settling
themselves in the swing, or wicker chairs, near one corner of the
veranda.
“Lilian, you look like a rose in that pink organdy,” said Betty.
“That’s sweet of you to say, Pansy Girl.” Betty had sometimes been
called that since she had worn the pansy dress in the masquerade.
“But you look more like forget-me-nots tonight in blue. And
Cathalina is like a lily—lilies of the valley and English violets.”
“My white and coral are not much like violets,” said Cathalina.
“Sweet peas, then. They have every color.”
“What’s Hilary, if we must all be flowers?”
“Oh, Hilary’s all the fresh spring flowers that we are glad to see
in the spring, hyacinths and lilacs and syringas——”
“Fresh! I like that.”
“Don’t try to put a wrong construction on what I say. Heliotrope and
mignonette, that is it.”
“Nonsense,” said Hilary. “I’ll be a sturdy old red geranium that
lasts all the year around, and even if you hang it up by the roots
in the cellar it grows leaves and flowers the next year.”
“All right, Hilary—our little red geranium!” The girls laughed at
this nonsense and looked up in surprise to hear another laugh near
by. Mr. Van Buskirk had come out on the porch and stood leaning
against a pillar behind them.
“If you want my opinion,” said he, “I should say that this is as
pretty a cluster of roses as we ever had at this house, Hilary quite
as blooming as the rest.”
“We thank you,” said Betty, rising and curtseying deeply, while the
rest followed her example.
“Are you expecting company soon?” inquired Mr. Van Buskirk.
“We told them to come early,” said Cathalina. “I think I see
Campbell and Emily now. Do we stay out here or go inside?”
“Out here—why not?” said Philip appearing in the doorway and
sauntering out toward them. “There come the Van Nesses. Come on out,
Bob. Where’s Dick? Oh, here he comes,” added Philip as the rapid
toe-tapping of some one running down stairs was heard, and Richard
North followed Robert and Philip. Mrs. Van Buskirk made her
appearance before Campbell and Emily had reached the top of the
steps. The guests arrived at very nearly the same time and were
cordially greeted. Robert Paget had been there before and knew
Philip’s relatives, but everybody had to be introduced to Richard
North, as well as to his sister and Betty. Mr. and Mrs. Van Buskirk
were particularly interested in meeting Captain Van Horne, of whom
Cathalina had written. Who was this young man who had succeeded in
making an impression on their little girl? He disclaimed the title
of captain as he was introduced, saying that it was only appropriate
when he was a part of the military school organization, but the
Greycliff girls continued to address him as Captain Van Horne.
Campbell’s sister Emily was glad to see Hilary again, and after a
little chat with her, passed her over to Campbell, who, she guessed,
was hoping to have a good visit with her. And as Cathalina was busy
welcoming the different ones, Emily tried to make Captain Van Horne
feel at home by chatting with him. It was like Emily, fine girl that
she was, unconscious of herself and interested in every church and
public or private enterprise to help others. Both were more mature
than the rest of the young people.
“And here’s my dear cousin Philip!” exclaimed Ann Maria, handing her
wrap and scarf to one of the maids who had come out to assist at
this informal affair, and then holding out both hands to Philip.
“Come and give an account of yourself. I’ve scarcely seen you all
summer.”
“Naturally not, my dear young lady, when you have not been within
calling distance. Come and meet our guests.”
Ann Maria Van Ness was as straight as Aunt Katherine, who had
brought her up—graceful, with an assured manner and a handsome,
striking face. Her voice had a pleasant quality and her dress a
style which made Hilary and Lilian feel countrified at once. She
fairly took possession of Philip, and claimed considerable attention
from the other young gentlemen, all without a single unladylike act.
Philip, upon request, brought out his guitar, and the young company
sang the well known songs of the year. When they started the pretty
and sentimental song so familiar, then, among college students, “Why
I Love You,” Lilian’s voice was so beautiful that all with one
accord stopped singing and let Lilian’s soprano and Philip’s tenor
finish the last two stanzas. But Ann Maria was fidgety and
complained of mosquitoes.
“All right; let’s go in, folks,” invited Philip. “Ann Maria, I want
to hear your latest recital number.”
Accordingly, all trooped into the large front room, where Ann Maria
sat down at the piano, dashed off the latest popular tunes and
finally entered the classical realm, playing a difficult composition
exceedingly well.
“She can play well!” exclaimed Hilary, in surprise, to Campbell and
Lilian, with whom she happened to be grouped. Robert Paget was near,
also, and replied, “Yes, but she can not equal Phil. Wait till I get
the old boy started.”
But it was not necessary for Robert to ask Philip. Ann Maria herself
made the request, as she rose from the piano. “I have to get in my
playing before Philly begins,” said his cousin. “Come and give us
your latest composition.”
Philip rather protested, saying, “It is not for the host to play; it
is for the guests.” But, seeing they all wanted to hear him, he took
his place at the baby grand, played the different compositions they
asked for, then placed some music before him and beckoned to
Cathalina. After a few words with Philip, she went over to escort
Lilian to the piano, Philip rose and said, “We promised several of
the family that they shall hear you sing, Lilian. Will you please
come now?”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Lilian, “but when I think of the music you
people can hear in this city, I do hesitate to sing for you.”
“Oh, but we love your voice,” said Cathalina.
Lilian had scarcely ever found it so hard to sing. She knew that
there was at least one listener who was critical, and she felt her
own youth and lack of training. But Lilian was always ready to help
make the social machine run smoothly, and now moved to the piano
with much grace and sweetness. In a few minutes she had forgotten
herself in singing to Philip’s sympathetic and beautiful
accompaniment, and felt that exaltation which often held her and her
hearers as well. A murmur of appreciation greeted her at the end of
the first song and they kept her singing for a while, Philip so
happy and proud, and Mrs. Van Buskirk leaning forward to listen and
watch the flushed face and rapt eyes of the young singer.
Captain Van Horne managed to sit by Cathalina during the music, and
in the intervals between numbers she entertained him by telling
about the people present or their fun at camp, and asked him about
his busy summer.
“My ‘attic’ has been quite warm,” said he, “but I have studied and
read in different cool spots, attended my law classes and have
filled up my time in other ways.”
Cathalina knew that he was doing something to help make his way, but
she did not refer to that. She thought that he looked worn and
wished that she might put a little cheer into his dull days.
Cathalina was learning much sympathy, as she began to realize the
responsibilities that some of her friends had to carry. The old
self-centered little girl that knew nothing of life’s serious
interests had long since disappeared.
Richard North was becoming acquainted with pretty, plump, fair
Louise Van Ness, with Emily, and, of course, with the vivacious Ann
Maria.
Nan Van Ness was the cousin of Cathalina’s age who used to copy Ann
Maria, whom she greatly admired, as younger girls do admire the
older ones sometimes. But Nan, now, had been away to school herself,
and like Cathalina, had become interested in many things on her own
account. She and Betty were having great fun with Lawrence Haverhill
and Robert Paget. Rosalie Haverhill had not come.
It was “a nice party,” as Lilian said to herself, and she wondered
why she could not seem to enjoy it more, for Lilian was a
gay-hearted girl, at the head of most of the fun among her chums at
school. In her heart she knew that it was the relation of Ann Maria
to Phil that troubled her. But she went right on, taking part in all
the visiting and fun. By chance she was with Louise and Ann Maria
when the cooling ices and pretty cakes and fresh fruit were served
and Philip himself waited on both her and Ann Maria, with the same
courtesy to both!
“He is that way with all the girls,” she thought. “His attention to
me hasn’t meant a thing. His ‘musical wife,’ indeed! Ann Maria
plays, and I sing.” Lilian was thinking of Philip’s conversation in
the pine grove at camp, when he “seemed so serious,” spoke of
planning for a musical wife, and first asked her to write to him.
And now jealousy whispered that it had not been earnest. All this
ran through her mind while she talked to the girls, told of their
most thrilling experiences in camp, and laughed with the rest. Ann
Maria did not stay all night, as Cathalina had urged her to do. No,
indeed. She handed her wraps to Philip to put on for her, and Philip
took her home. To be sure, there were others in the car, Campbell,
Emily, Louise and Nan, but Ann Maria sat in front with Phil, who
drove. And Lilian did not know that Philip had asked his mother if
he might not take Lilian, too. “You may, but it isn’t best,” Mrs.
Van Buskirk had answered. “Since all the girls can’t go, you’d
better not ask any of them.”
The days were few for all the good times. There was so much of the
city to be seen, lunches to be taken in odd places, drives here and
there, an entertainment or two on Broadway, a dinner at the
Stuarts’, and as a climax the “real party.” For this, each lass had
a lad, each lad a lass to escort to the tables for the elaborate
meal served by Watta and a capable group of waiters. As Mrs. Van
Buskirk had decided that there would be time to issue invitations,
they had been sent out to all the more intimate circle of
Cathalina’s and Philip’s friends.
Philip insisted that he was to have Lilian. Hilary, of course, was
assigned to Campbell. Their friendship proceeded on its calm and
apparently unsentimental way, but Campbell was there and with Hilary
as much of the time as possible. There was quite a discussion
between Cathalina and her mother about Captain Van Horne.
“Now, Mother dear,” said Cathalina, “if Captain Van Horne is invited
for Emily or Louise, he’ll have to go for her, send her flowers, I
suppose, and he hasn’t any car, and I would be right here, and it
would be all right if he did not think of flowers.”
Her mother laughed. “You are greatly concerned, Cathalina.”
“Indeed I am. I like him, though I like Robert Paget, too. But
Captain Van Horne is older and I think it would be all right for him
to take me out to supper, don’t you? He’s a teacher, too.”
“How would you arrange it, then?”
“Let Bob take Betty, or would it be better to have him take Ann
Maria?”
“Ann Maria would rather have one of our house guests, I think——”
“Since she can’t have Phil,” finished Cathalina.
“Don’t say that, Cathalina.”
“All right, then; Bob for Ann Maria, and Dick for Louise. They can
go for the girls together in our car. Lawrence Haverhill can have
Betty. Oh, yes, I had forgotten; he asked Phil if he might not.”
The girlish guests were quite excited when the fateful night
arrived. Lovely bouquets had arrived for them. “Look at Cathalina!”
said Betty. “With all the flowers she has, she is as excited as any
of us over her roses.”
“Well, who sent them?” asked Cathalina. “Wouldn’t you be excited if
a distinguished officer in a military school sent you flowers?”
“I _am_ excited,” said Lilian, holding to view the most beautiful
roses of all. “And I’m sure nobody could be more gifted than the
young gentleman who sent these.”
“Listen to ’em rave,” said Betty to Hilary in pitying tones. “I
fancy I hear Lilian sing ‘I Dreamt That I Dwelt in Marble Halls.’”
At this Lilian pretended to advance threateningly upon Betty, who
fled behind Hilary. Hilary warded both off, and laughingly warned
them that with their nonsense they might easily spoil all the
bouquets.
“Don’t worry, Hilary, none of us ever really do anything. We just
threaten. I can’t bear any physical nonsense or tricks.”
“Nor I, Lilian,” said Betty.
This social occasion was a much happier one to Lilian than the
first, for while Philip was the attentive and gallant host, each
lady was provided with an especial escort, and he had at last an
opportunity to devote himself to Lilian. But Lilian was an uncertain
quantity since she had observed Ann Maria with Philip. Her gay,
though friendly, manner rather put a damper on any approach to the
sentimental or serious, and she kept to the groups of young friends
with whom they were surrounded. Mrs. Van Buskirk had engaged several
professional musicians, in whose performance Lilian was especially
interested. “You have _everything_, Philip,” she said once, “and you
ought to be thankful!”
“I am,” said Philip, “but I haven’t _everything_ I want. And
sometimes I think I shall have to do without what I want most.”
That speech troubled Lilian for a moment, but just at that point Ann
Maria and Robert Paget came up, with Nan Van Ness and her escort,
and Philip turned a smiling face upon Ann Maria, as he replied to
one of her sallies. “I need not worry about him,” thought Lilian.
As she and Hilary crept into bed late that night, too tired to
sleep, she asked Hilary if Ann Maria were Cathalina’s first cousin.
“Oh, no,” replied Hilary. “I believe her father was a first cousin
of Mrs. Van Buskirk’s. Oh, Lilian, wasn’t it fine to have a maid
pick up after you? I’m getting spoiled in the lap of luxury. It’s a
good thing I’m leaving. How convenient for you, too, that your
brother could stay. I believe he had a good time, and now he can
take you home.”
“Yes, we’ll have a good chat tomorrow on the train and I’ll have a
better chance to find out what he and Father are going to do. Good
night, Hilary.”
“Not so very closely related. Then Phil could marry Ann Maria if
he—they—wanted to.”