Shopping, Mumsie and I went down town. The Christmas rush is on and
happiness was abroad. The snowflakes were falling softly. I bought
Mumsie a pair of gloves. For Uncle, a box of cigars at $1.25, and for
his nephew a silk handkerchief, of all colours. We met the Bassett girls
with their mother in Lewis’s. It appears to me that I am always meeting
the Bassetts. My mind is fully made up. I’m for society with a big “S”.
The Bassetts and other good people bore me to death. I feel as if I’ve
burnt my boats. All the better!
Of course, I took Ethel’s hand with cordiality: I realize that if I am
to be a society success I must be nice to everybody, whatever I feel.
But there was a price to pay: she returned my cordiality by asking me to
go skating with her in the evening; and before I could invent an excuse
Mumsie told me to accept “and take Jack.” Heavens!—and all I could do
was to smile and say “Thank you, I shall be delighted.” Ethel and Mr.
Bang! In parting Ethel said she would call for us.
We met Mr. Bang by appointment.
Our cavalier had loaded himself with parcels. He remarked,
apologetically, that the delivery men would have enough work to do as it
was: and even then when Mumsie made more purchases he insisted on
carrying them. “I’ve done enough hard work to sympathize with any
worker,” he said. Worker indeed! I could not help wondering what Mrs.
Lien or Mrs. Mount would say if they saw us. However, Mumsie seemed
indifferent. I suppose Uncle’s ideas have had some effect.
After lunch Mumsie and I walked out to deliver presents. I was
introduced to many of her friends; all genial, placid, and
uninteresting. Dinner passed with nothing said worth recording, and
after dinner Ethel Bassett came and gathered up Mr. Bang and myself. We
walked to the rink.
As we entered the large, spectral building, Ethel signed our names in a
book and there was no charge for admission, which puzzled me. When we
entered the dressing-room there were no young rowdies about as is always
the case in our small rink at home. I was still more at a loss to
comprehend, the situation when I noticed the boys and girls present were
all well dressed, evidently society folk.
The girls were congregated in one section of the large dressing-room,
the boys in the other. Mr. Bang, of course, went to the men’s section. I
took everything in, but still was mystified. Ethel began changing her
boots, so I did too. My wonder growing, I whispered: “Why, Ethel, what
is this?” The new conditions were so different from anything I had met
before.
“Why don’t you know? I thought you knew. That is the Skating Club,” she
whispered in return.
“Oh,” I exclaimed, and I almost blurted out—“then I shall see some
society people.” I wonder if I am really a snob! I’m afraid—
We left the dressing-room and descended to the ice. The immense, arched
roof was studded with electric lights. This then was the Skating Club
about which I had so often read in the society columns of our paper at
home.
At first I skated into a corner with Ethel, and watched the others. The
ice was covered with boys and girls, men and women, practising fancy
figures: some were evidently adepts, others as evidently less expert. A
few found partners and went off in a way I had never seen before. I
watched and waited. Mr. Bang skated up and chatted with Ethel. I kept my
eye on a girl dressed in green velvet, who with her partner, was
performing wonders. All this was new to me and—enchanting!
My dream was suddenly broken; the band struck up and almost every man
sought a partner and away they went in the waltz, actually waltzing on
ice. Mr. Bang came up and asked if I waltzed. I replied that I didn’t.
This avowal might under other circumstances have caused me pain.
He and Ethel then went to skate, but were evidently not as good skaters
as the majority present. Ethel particularly, did not seem to have
mastered the art. She and Jack did not seem to skate so smoothly and
confidently as the others. But how I envied the girl in green: I was
fascinated by her, enthralled.
The band stopped, and I sighed; my friends came back to me.
“You must learn to waltz, Little Partner,” Mr. Bang remarked kindly.
“Yes,” I replied without enthusiasm. I did not relish having Ethel hear
me addressed as “Little Partner,” though she seemed neither shocked nor
amused. I would positively have disliked the girl in green to have been
a witness.
“Ethel, who is that girl in green?” I had to ask.
“Doesn’t she skate beautifully—that’s Mabel Lien.”
“Mabel Lien! She does,” I sighed. I thought of her grandfather and mine,
the disparity between the girl in green and myself; she sought after,
petted and pampered, in fine plumage: and me—! For two pins I’d be a
socialist.
A young man came up and engaged Ethel for the next band. He was
introduced to me and then they went away skating, hand in hand. So Mr.
Bang and I were left together. He amused himself by twirling away at
figures, while I resumed my reverie.
Mr. Bang asked me to try and skate with him. We tried and failed. I was
counted a good skater among the girls at home. I asked my cavalier who
Mabel Lien had for a partner, and was told, “Polly Townsend.” Polly!
Then Ethel came back with her companion, who asked if I waltzed. On
answering no, he said, “So sorry,” lifted his cap and skated away. No
person asked Ethel for the succeeding “band”—as they call it—so she
kindly tried to teach me the waltz while Mr. Bang secured one of the few
dowdy girls present, and went away. Ethel may not be a social figure,
but is certainly unselfish and kind. I must remember that.
She explained the strokes I should master, and said I should practise
with Mr. Bang. Mr. Bang! I’m sick of Mr. Bang. I asked Ethel if any of
the good skaters ever asked her to skate and she replied they did not.
When I asked her if she knew any of them, she answered “Nearly all.” I
do not know what to make of this. I hope I did not hurt Ethel’s
feelings. Anyhow it is funny.
Ethel pointed out to me Doris Mount, who did not skate at all well, not
nearly as well as she herself did. Polly Townsend was then skating with
her. I suppose Polly finds it convenient to do the polite to her; while
no person found it necessary to be polite to Ethel; and as for myself I
might as well have been “not present.”
One person, at any rate, was pleased with Doris Mount—her mother sat on
the promenade and leaning on the rail glued her eyes on her daughter.
She was alone, so I left the ice and walked to where she sat. Her
greeting was not cordial; but I seated myself beside her, deciding to
await her humour. I was pleased to consider her abstracted; she kept
dangling her muff over the ice.
At last I exclaimed, “Oh! Mrs. Mount,”—the exclamation was in the idea
of leading her to thinking I was suddenly visited by an inspiration from
the Heavens. Of course this was in imitation of Mumsie’s greeting when
she stopped Mrs. Mount on the street. “I have remembered what you said
about meeting only nice people, so I have decided to ask you to
introduce me, will you?”
“Who brought you here?” she asked abruptly and coldly. I felt snubbed:
but my blood was up.
I would have answered “Ethel Bassett”, but realized that the inference
she would draw would be hardly fair to Ethel, so I answered, “Mr. Bang,”
feeling a martyr as I did so.
“But he is not a member,” she objected.
There was nothing for it, so I said: “And Miss Bassett.”
“Humph,” she snorted, “I don’t know really: the Bassett girl can’t do
anything for you, her father is an old fogey and the mother has no go.
They have no money;” reflectively and then more good naturedly, “well
all right,” and kept on dangling her muff while she turned her eyes for
a moment on me. I cannot say I was proud of myself. As I write this for
my own eyes, I confess I am ashamed of myself. However!
The band stopped, the waltz was ended and up skated Doris and Polly. I
was introduced to them. “Ask her for a band,” Mrs. Mount commanded
Polly, “and ask Jerry Davidson and Leith MacKenzie to be introduced and
to give her a band. Doris, my dear, you look lovely to-night. Yes,
really!”
Doris beamed, while Polly replied:
“Really, Mrs. Mount, I’m engaged every band; you know I always skate the
fifth with Doris.”
“Well, give the girl a show; ask MacKenzie.” Both Mr. MacKenzie and Mr.
Davidson were therefore brought up and introduced. The latter had all
his bands engaged and the smile he wore as he announced the fact was
very complacent. I hated him for it, but hid my wrath. Mr. MacKenzie
asked me for the seventh band.
“You are very kind, thank you, Mrs. Mount,” I whispered, when the others
had departed. “It must be so nice to be able to command kindness for
strangers. I’ve heard Uncle speak so loudly (it was no lie for Uncle did
speak loudly whenever he discussed Mrs. Mount) of your goodness.”
She looked at me with a penetrating gaze, and then smiled as she
returned to contemplate her daughter. However, she added after a few
minutes—it was kind of her on the whole. “Now, my dear, you’ll have to
learn to skate, if you want the boys to give you bands. Look how
beautifully my Doris glides over the shimmering ice.”
The ice was not shimmering, but weather-stained and dull, and Doris
skated abominably—by comparison with the other girls.
“Your daughter is very beautiful, more beautiful even than her skating,”
I commented. I don’t seem to be able to lie with all the assurance I
would wish, but my untruthfulness was sufficient.
“Do you know, really, I think she is. How long is your stay in town?”
Mrs. Mount’s voice was kinder still.
“A month or six weeks, Mumsie—Mrs. Somers—asked me for. I should like
to live in the city always. So many nice people are to be met in the
city.”
Mrs. Mount swung her muff for another minute, and then she said:
“You are a sensible little girl. I have a great mind—”
She paused as if she felt she was liable to say too much. I waited
expectantly, eagerly. What was in her mind, what idea was then being
discreetly curbed? I could not help but feel she was thinking of taking
me under her wing.
There was nothing I could say or do, no prompting I could give, to
consolidate her ideas into words. I could only guess. I felt very much
as one feels on hearing of a great treasure at the bottom of the sea. It
would do Mrs. Mount no harm to give me an opportunity of making friends.
The sixth band came to an end and Doris with her partner, and others,
came again to her mother. I took no part in the chattering —for I was
yet in doubt as to what had been in Mrs. Mount’s mind and now was likely
never to know.
The seventh band struck up, and MacKenzie came for me. We skated away
but I told him I could not waltz, so we practised in a corner. He has a
funny little face, with a pointed nose, the skin covering of which is
tight and transparent. His mouth twitched when he intended to smile and
his speech was affected. He followed one question with another. He
professed not to know anything of Mumsie or Uncle, and when I
inadvertently mentioned Mr. Bang, his jaw dropped. At the end of the
band he skated hurriedly away. A nice man!
Soon I hinted to Ethel that I should be glad to go home and she agreed,
so we changed our footgear and went. As we passed Mrs. Mount I
whispered: “Thank you very much for the introduction, Mrs. Mount. I
enjoyed myself immensely.”
On the way home I allowed Ethel to monopolize Mr. Bang. They got on well
together and seemed to be talking earnestly. But my mind was full of
thought. I have decided to make a bold venture. I have, I realize,
minted my self-respect; and am doling it out coin upon coin. As yet, I
must own to myself, the returns have been nil; no pleasure—rather
chagrin: no gratification—rather depression. But still! I’m afraid I’m
self-conscious in the presence of Ethel or Mr. Bang. Not that it makes
much difference if either of them judges the import of my actions. But
let me hope that, after I’ve paid, and paid, and paid, that I shall some
day realize my happiness.