I must say that both Eliza and myself felt a good deal of contempt for
the Mopworths. We had known them for three years, and that gave us a
claim; Peter Mopworth was a connection of Eliza's by marriage, and that
also gave us a claim; further, our social position gave us a claim.
Nevertheless, the Mopworths were to have their annual party on the
following Wednesday, and they had not invited us.
"Upon my soul," I exclaimed, "I never in my life heard of anything so
absolutely paltry."
"I can't think why it is," said Eliza.
"Oh, we're not good enough for them. We all know who his father was,
and we all know what he is--a petty provincial shopkeeper! A gentleman
holding important employment in one of the principal mercantile firms
in the city isn't good enough for him. If I'm permitted to clean his
boots I'm sure I ought to be thankful. Oh, yes! Of course! No doubt!"
"You do get so sarcastic," observed Eliza.
"That's nothing--nothing to what I should be if I let myself go. But I
don't choose to let myself go. I don't think he's worth it, and I don't
think she's worth it either. It's a pity, perhaps, that they don't know
that they're making themselves ridiculous, but it can't be helped.
Personally, I sha'n't give the thing another thought."
"That's the best thing to do," said Eliza.
"Of course it is. Why trouble one's head about people of that class?
And, I say, Eliza, if you meet that Mopworth woman in the street,
there's no occasion for you to recognize her."
"That would look as if we were terribly cut up because we hadn't been
asked to their party."
"Possibly. Whereas, I don't even consider it worth talking about."
We discussed the Mopworths and their party for another hour and a half,
and then went to bed.
* * * * *
"Lying awake last night," I said at breakfast next morning, "I couldn't
help thinking over the different things we have done for those
serpents."
"What serpents?"
"Those contemptible Mopworths. I wonder if they have any feelings of
shame? If they have, they must blush when they think of the way they
have treated us."
"I can't think why they've left us out. Perhaps it's a mistake."
"Not a bit of it. I've been expecting this for some time. Of course he
has made money. I don't say--I would rather _not_ say--how he has made
it. But it seems to have turned his head. However, after this I shall
probably never mention him again."
Eliza began to talk about the weather. I told her that Mopworth had
done things which, personally, I should have been very sorry to do, and
that I should be reluctant to adopt his loud style of dress.
"But, of course," I added, "no gentleman ever does dress like that."
Eliza said that if I intended to catch my train I had better start.