“Oh, Mrs. Somers,” blustered Mrs. Mount to Mumsie when I was with her in
the drawing-room this morning, “I have had such a shock, such a shock
and do you know, really, I don’t exactly know _how_ I am to get over
it.”
“Why, what can the matter be?” asked Mumsie, responding to the evidences
of distress with measurable interest.
“Oh! I have had a shock, such a dreadful shock———”
“What is it?” again demanded Mumsie, apprehensively, while I felt like
quoting: “Oh dear! what can the matter be?”
“Do you know, really, I have always understood that my Doris was to have
the most expensive dress at the Opening, and now, do you know what I
have discovered? I have found out that a horrid American creature, a
Miss Spruce from New York, has arrived and is to wear a dress costing no
less than ten thousand dollars—ten thousand dollars—think of that!
Dear! dear! dear!” and the good lady stamped her foot and protruded her
chin.
“That is too bad, it must be a great disappointment,” said Mumsie in the
most sympathetic tones, “but then Doris may be—I have no doubt is—a
very much better-looking girl than Miss Spruce.”
“Yes, yes, yes; no, no, no; that is, Doris is much the better-looking
girl, certainly. Doris is so sweet, so graceful, so everything don’t you
know, really, but then you know these American creatures make up so
wonderfully ———”
“Can’t you have Doris make up too?” suggested Mumsie with innocence
sublime.
“But everybody will know Miss Spruce’s dress has cost ten thousand
dollars, they do already, you know. I’ve heard it from half a dozen
people and she has been in the hotel only one hour—only one hour—just
fancy!”
Mumsie affected a fitting expression of amazement, which I copied to the
best of my ability.
“Only one hour!” repeated Mumsie in doleful tones, and then pitching her
voice to a key of joyousness cried: “Don’t tell anybody and they will
never know Doris’s did not cost ten thousand dollars—nobody will know
the difference ———”
Mrs. Mount gazed at Mumsie as if she were deciding whether to shriek or
cry. She did not do either, but in a voice sepulchral murmured:
“Mrs. Somers, I’ve already told twenty people that Doris’s dress cost
one thousand dollars. As a matter of fact, it really only cost six
hundred and fifty, but I said a thousand as I always like to deal in
round figures. All Ottawa has heard of Doris’s thousand dollar dress,
and that I cabled to Paris for it. There is nothing for it; I’m beat,
I’m beat. And, by a beastly Yankee whose father made his money out of
chewing-gum. Chewing gum! just fancy!” Mrs. Mount wore an air of
complete defeat as she walked away.
As Mrs. Mount left us, Uncle and Mr. Bang came up, and Mumsie recounted
the scene with admirable skill. Uncle was highly amused and laughed
immoderately; Mr. Bang being in a less doleful frame of mind than usual,
became almost gleeful. Dear old Mumsie!
Uncle then informed us that he must leave for home by the Sunday morning
train. This was a disappointment to us, of course, and then Mr. Bang
said:
“Auntie, I learn that Norway Lake Hotel is the last word of comfort
and—as Elsie will be pleased to hear—fashion. We can leave here Sunday
morning and be there at three in the afternoon. And, do you know—I
won’t add the ‘really,’ unless my ears or understanding played me
false—Mrs. Mount is also——”
“If Mrs. Mount is going that fact will give Norway Lake its
certificate,” cut in Mumsie.
I stood limp—Norway Lake!—not Mrs. Mount or her daughter was the
person to whom my mind flew, but Charlie Lien. But what could I say—do?
For a healthy debutante to decline to go to a winter resort, such a
winter resort as Norway House, would be suspicious. I said nothing.