"I am going to have my _salon,_ or at all events the beginning of it,
at once," said Betty to Sally Carter on the afternoon of her arrival,
"and I want you to help me."
"I am ready for any change," said Miss Carter. Her appearance was
unaltered, and she had spoken of Emory's death without emotion. Whether
she had put the past behind her with the philosophy of her nature, or
whether his marriage with a woman for whose breed she had a bitter and
fastidious contempt had killed her love before his death, Betty could
only guess. She made no attempt to learn the truth. Sally's inner life
was her own; that her outer was unchanged was enough for her friends.
"I am going to give a dinner to thirty people on the sixth of January.
Here is the list. You will see that every man is in official life.
There are eight Senators, five members of the House, the British
Ambassador, and the Librarian of Congress. Some of them know my desire
for a _salon_ and are ready to help me. I shall talk about it quite
freely. In these days you must come out plainly and say what you want.
If you wait to be too subtle, the world runs by you. I am determined to
have a _salon,_ and a famous one at that. This is an ambitious list,
but half-way methods don't appeal to me."
"Nobody ever accused you of an affinity for the second best, my dear;
but you may thank your three stars of luck for providing you with the
fortune and position to achieve your ambitions: beauty and brains alone
wouldn't do it. Senator North," she continued from the list in her
hand: "Mrs. North is wonderfully improved, by the way; has not been so
well in twenty years. Senator Burleigh: he is out flat-footed against
free silver since the failure of the bi-metallic envoys, and his State
is furious. Senator Shattuc is for it, so they probably don't speak.
Senator Ward might be induced to fall in love with Lady Mary and turn
his eloquence on the Senate in behalf of a marriage between Uncle Sam
and Britannia. There is no knowing what your _salon_ may accomplish,
and that would be a sight for the gods. Senator Maxwell will inveigh in
twelve languages against recognizing the belligerency of the Cubans.
Senator French will supply the distinguished literary element. Senator
March represents the conservative Democrat who is too good for the
present depraved condition of his State. If you want to immortalize
yourself, invent a political broom. Senator Eustis: he thinks the only
fault with the Senate is that it is too good-natured and does not say
No often enough. Who are the Representatives? The only Speaker, the
immortal Chairman of the Committee on Ways and Means--don't place me
near him, for I've just paid a hideous bill at the Custom House and I'd
scratch his eyes out. Mr. Montgomery: he and Lady Mary are getting
almost devoted. Trust a clever woman to pinch the memory of any other
woman to death. The redoubtable Mr. Legrand, also of Maine, upon whom
the shafts of an embittered minority seem to fall so harmlessly; and
Mr. Armstrong--who is he? I thought I knew as much about politics as
you, by this time, but I don't recall his name."
"I met him at Narragansett, and had several talks with him. He is a
Bryanite, but very gentlemanly, and his convictions were so strong and
so unquestionably genuine that he interested me. I want the best of all
parties. We can't sit up and agree with each other."
"Don't let that worry you, darling. Mr. North has been contradicting
everybody in the Senate for twenty years. Your devoted Burleigh
quarrels with everybody but yourself. Mr. Maxwell snubs everybody who
presumes to disagree with him, and French is so superior that I long
for some naughty little boys to give him a coat of pink paint. Your
_salon_ will probably fight like cats. If the war cloud gets any
bigger, your mother will go to bed early on _salon_ nights and send for
a policeman. I look forward to it with an almost painful joy. I want to
go in to dinner with Mr. March, by the way. He is the noblest-looking
man in Congress--looks like what the statues of the founders of the
Republic would look like if they were decently done. I'll paint the
menu cards for you, and I'll wear a new gown I've just paid
ninety-three dollars duty on--I certainly shall tear out the eyes of
'the honourable gentleman from Maine.'"