The effect of this so casual contact was really disrupting in more
senses than one. For now in spite of his comfort in and satisfaction
with Roberta, once more and in this positive and to him entrancing
way, was posed the whole question of his social possibilities here.
And that strangely enough by the one girl of this upper level who had
most materialized and magnified for him the meaning of that upper level
itself. The beautiful Sondra Finchley! Her lovely face, smart clothes,
gay and superior demeanor! If only at the time he had first encountered
her he had managed to interest her. Or could now.
The fact that his relations with Roberta were what they were now was
not of sufficient import or weight to offset the temperamental or
imaginative pull of such a girl as Sondra and all that she represented.
Just to think the Wimblinger Finchley Electric Sweeper Company was
one of the largest manufacturing concerns here. Its tall walls and
stacks made a part of the striking sky line across the Mohawk. And
the Finchley residence in Wykeagy Avenue, near that of the Griffiths,
was one of the most impressive among that distinguished row of houses
which had come with the latest and most discriminating architectural
taste here--Italian Renaissance--cream hued marble and Dutchess County
Sandstone combined. And the Finchleys were among the most discussed of
families here.
Ah, to know this perfect girl more intimately! To be looked upon by
her with favor,--made, by reason of that favor, a part of that fine
world to which she belonged. Was he not a Griffiths--as good looking
as Gilbert Griffiths any day? And as attractive if he only had as
much money--or a part of it even. To be able to dress in the Gilbert
Griffiths' fashion; to ride around in one of the handsome cars he
sported! Then, you bet, a girl like this would be delighted to notice
him,--mayhap, who knows, even fall in love with him. Analschar and the
tray of glasses. But now, as he gloomily thought, he could only hope,
hope, hope.
The devil! He would not go around to Roberta's this evening. He would
trump up some excuse--tell her in the morning that he had been called
upon by his uncle or cousin to do some work. He could not and would
not go, feeling as he did just now.
So much for the effect of wealth, beauty, the peculiar social state to
which he most aspired, on a temperament that was as fluid and unstable
as water.
On the other hand, later, thinking over her contact with Clyde, Sondra
was definitely taken with what may only be described as his charm for
her, all the more definite in this case since it represented a direct
opposite to all that his cousin offered by way of offense. His clothes
and his manner, as well as a remark he had dropped, to the effect that
he was connected with the company in some official capacity, seemed to
indicate that he might be better placed than she had imagined. Yet she
also recalled that although she had been about with Bella all summer
and had encountered Gilbert, Myra and their parents from time to time,
there had never been a word about Clyde. Indeed all the information
she had gathered concerning him was that originally furnished by Mrs.
Griffiths, who had said that he was a poor nephew whom her husband had
brought on from the west in order to help in some way. Yet now, as she
viewed Clyde on this occasion, he did not seem so utterly unimportant
or poverty-stricken by any means--quite interesting and rather smart
and very attractive, and obviously anxious to be taken seriously by a
girl like herself, as she could see. And this coming from Gilbert's
cousin--a Griffiths--was flattering.
Arriving at the Trumbulls, a family which centered about one Douglas
Trumbull, a prosperous lawyer and widower and speculator of this
region, who, by reason of his children as well as his own good manners
and legal subtlety, had managed to ingratiate himself into the best
circles of Lycurgus society, she suddenly confided to Jill Trumbull,
the elder of the lawyer's two daughters: "You know I had a funny
experience to-day." And she proceeded to relate all that had occurred
in detail. Afterward at dinner, Jill having appeared to find it most
fascinating, she again repeated it to Gertrude and Tracy, the younger
daughter and only son of the Trumbull family.
"Oh, yes," observed Tracy Trumbull, a law student in his father's
office, "I've seen that fellow, I bet, three or four times on Central
Avenue. He looks a lot like Gil, doesn't he? Only not so swagger. I've
nodded to him two or three times this summer because I thought he was
Gil for the moment."
"Oh, I've seen him, too," commented Gertrude Trumbull. "He wears a
cap and a belted coat like Gilbert Griffiths, sometimes, doesn't he?
Arabella Stark pointed him out to me once and then Jill and I saw him
passing Stark's once on a Saturday afternoon. He is better looking than
Gil, any day, I think."
This confirmed Sondra in her own thoughts in regard to Clyde and now
she added: "Bertine Cranston and I met him one evening last spring at
the Griffiths. We thought he was too bashful, then. But I wish you
could see him now--he's positively handsome, with the softest eyes and
the nicest smile."
"Oh, now, Sondra," commented Jill Trumbull, who, apart from Bertine
and Bella, was as close to Sondra as any girl here, having been one of
her classmates at the Snedeker School, "I know some one who would be
jealous if he could hear you say that."
"And wouldn't Gil Griffiths like to hear that his cousin's better
looking than he is?" chimed in Tracy Trumbull. "Oh, say--"
"Oh, he," sniffed Sondra irritably. "He thinks he's so much. I'll bet
anything it's because of him that the Griffiths won't have anything
to do with their cousin. I'm sure of it, now that I think of it.
Bella would, of course, because I heard her say last spring that she
thought he was good-looking. And Myra wouldn't do anything to hurt
anybody. What a lark if some of us were to take him up some time and
begin inviting him here and there--once in a while, you know--just
for fun, to see how he would do. And how the Griffiths would take it.
I know well enough it would be all right with Mr. Griffiths and Myra
and Bella, but Gil I'll bet would be as peeved as anything. I couldn't
do it myself very well, because I'm so close to Bella, but I know who
could and they couldn't say a thing." She paused, thinking of Bertine
Cranston and how she disliked Gil and Mrs. Griffiths. "I wonder if he
dances or rides or plays tennis or anything like that?" She stopped
and meditated amusedly, the while the others studied her. And Jill
Trumbull, a restless, eager girl like herself, without so much of her
looks or flare, however, observed: "It would be a prank, wouldn't it?
Do you suppose the Griffiths really would dislike it very much?"
"What's the difference if they did?" went on Sondra. "They couldn't do
anything more than ignore him, could they? And who would care about
that, I'd like to know. Not the people who invited him."
"Go on, you fellows, stir up a local scrap, will you?" put in Tracy
Trumbull. "I'll bet anything that's what comes of it in the end. Gil
Griffiths won't like it, you can gamble on that. I wouldn't if I were
in his position. If you want to stir up a lot of feeling here, go to
it, but I'll lay a bet that's what it comes to."
Now Sondra Finchley's nature was of just such a turn that a thought
of this kind was most appealing to her. However, as interesting as
the idea was to her at the time, nothing definite might have come of
it, had it not been that subsequent to this conversation and several
others held with Bertine Cranston, Jill Trumbull, Patricia Anthony,
and Arabella Stark, the news of this adventure, together with some
comments as to himself, finally came to the ears of Gilbert Griffiths,
yet only via Constance Wynant to whom, as local gossips would have it,
he was prospectively engaged. And Constance, hoping that Gilbert would
marry her eventually, was herself irritated by the report that Sondra
had chosen to interest herself in Clyde, and then, for no sane reason,
as she saw it, proclaim that he was more attractive than Gilbert. So,
as much to relieve herself as to lay some plan of avenging herself
upon Sondra, if possible, she conveyed the whole matter in turn to
Gilbert, who at once proceeded to make various cutting references to
Clyde and Sondra. And these carried back to Sondra, along with certain
embellishments by Constance, had the desired effect. It served to
awaken in her the keenest desire for retaliation. For if she chose she
certainly could be nice to Clyde, and have others be nice to him, too.
And that would mean perhaps that Gilbert would find himself faced by
a social rival of sorts--his own cousin, too, who, even though he was
poor, might come to be liked better. What a lark! At the very same
time there came to her a way by which she might most easily introduce
Clyde, and yet without seeming so to do, and without any great harm to
herself, if it did not terminate as she wished.
For in Lycurgus among the younger members of those smarter families
whose children had been to the Snedeker School, existed a rather
illusory and casual dinner and dance club called the "Now and Then." It
had no definite organization, officers or abode. Any one, who, because
of class and social connections was eligible and chose to belong, could
call a meeting of other members to give a dinner or dance or tea in
their homes.
And how simple, thought Sondra in browsing around for a suitable
vehicle by which to introduce Clyde, if some one other than herself
who belonged could be induced to get up something and then at her
suggestion invite Clyde. How easy, say, for Jill Trumbull to give
a dinner and dance to the "Now and Thens," to which Clyde might be
invited. And by this ruse she would thus be able to see him again and
find out just how much he did interest her and what he was like.
Accordingly a small dinner for this club and its friends was announced
for the first Thursday in December, Jill Trumbull to be the hostess.
To it were to be invited Sondra and her brother, Stuart, Tracy and
Gertrude Trumbull, Arabella Stark, Bertine and her brother, and some
others from Utica and Gloversville as well. And Clyde. But in order to
safeguard Clyde against any chance of failure or even invidious comment
of any kind, not only she but Bertine and Jill and Gertrude were to be
attentive to and considerate of him. They were to see that his dance
program was complete and that neither at dinner nor on the dance floor
was he to be left to himself, but was to be passed on most artfully
from one to the other until the evening should be over. For, by reason
of that, others might come to be interested in him, which would not
only take the thorn from the thought that Sondra alone, of all the
better people of Lycurgus, had been friendly to him, but would sharpen
the point of this development for Gilbert, if not for Bella and the
other members of the Griffiths family.
And in accordance with this plan, so it was done.
And so it was that Clyde, returning from the factory one early December
evening about two weeks after his encounter with Sondra, was surprised
by the sight of a cream-colored note leaning against the mirror of his
dresser. It was addressed in a large, scrawly and unfamiliar hand.
He picked it up and turned it over without being able in any way to
fix upon the source. On the back were the initials B.T. or J.T., he
could not decide which, so elaborately intertwined was the engraved
penmanship. He tore it open and drew out a card which read:
_The Now and Then Club
Will Hold Its First
Winter Dinner Dance
At the Home of
Douglas Trumbull
135 Wykeagy Ave.
On Thursday, December 4
You Are Cordially Invited
Will You Kindly Reply to Miss Jill Trumbull?_
On the back of this, though, in the same scrawly hand that graced the
envelope was written: "Dear Mr. Griffiths: Thought you might like to
come. It will be quite informal. And I'm sure you'll like it. If so,
will you let Jill Trumbull know? Sondra Finchley."
Quite amazed and thrilled, Clyde stood and stared. For ever since that
second contact with her, he had been more definitely fascinated than
at any time before by the dream that somehow, in some way, he was to
be lifted from the lowly state in which he now dwelt. He was, as he
now saw it, really too good for the commonplace world by which he was
environed. And now here was this--a social invitation issued by the
"Now and Then Club," of which, even though he had never heard of it,
must be something, since it was sponsored by such exceptional people.
And on the back of it, was there not the writing of Sondra herself? How
marvelous, really!
So astonished was he that he could scarcely contain himself for joy,
but now on the instant must walk to and fro, looking at himself in the
mirror, washing his hands and face, then deciding that his tie was not
just right, perhaps, and changing to another--thinking forward to what
he should wear and back upon how Sondra had looked at him on that last
occasion. And how she had smiled. At the same time he could not help
wondering even at this moment of what Roberta would think, if now, by
some extra optical power of observation she could note his present
joy in connection with this note. For plainly, and because he was no
longer governed by the conventional notions of his parents, he had been
allowing himself to drift into a position in regard to her which would
certainly spell torture to her in case she should discover the nature
of his present mood, a thought which puzzled him not a little, but did
not serve to modify his thoughts in regard to Sondra in the least.
That wonderful girl!
That beauty!
That world of wealth and social position she lived in!
At the same time so innately pagan and unconventional were his thoughts
in regard to all this that he could now ask himself, and that seriously
enough, why should he not be allowed to direct his thoughts toward her
and away from Roberta, since at the moment Sondra supplied the keener
thought of delight. Roberta could not know about this. She could not
see into his mind, could she--become aware of any such extra experience
as this unless he told her. And most assuredly he did not intend to
tell her. And what harm, he now asked himself, was there in a poor
youth like himself aspiring to such heights? Other youths as poor as
himself had married girls as rich as Sondra.
For in spite of all that had occurred between him and Roberta he had
not, as he now clearly recalled, given her his word that he would marry
her except under one condition. And such a condition, especially with
the knowledge that he had all too clearly acquired in Kansas City, was
not likely to happen as he thought.
And Sondra, now that she had thus suddenly burst upon him again in this
way was the same as a fever to his fancy. This goddess in her shrine of
gilt and tinsel so utterly enticing to him, had deigned to remember him
in this open and direct way and to suggest that he be invited. And no
doubt she, herself, was going to be there, a thought which thrilled him
beyond measure.
And what would not Gilbert and the Griffiths think if they were to hear
of his going to this affair now, as they surely would? Or meet him
later at some other party to which Sondra might invite him? Think of
that! Would it irritate or please them? Make them think less or more of
him? For, after all, this certainly was not of his doing. Was he not
properly invited by people of their own station here in Lycurgus whom
most certainly they were compelled to respect? And by no device of his,
either--sheer accident--the facts concerning which would most certainly
not reflect on him as pushing. As lacking as he was in some of the
finer shades of mental discrimination, a sly and ironic pleasure lay in
the thought that now Gilbert and the Griffiths might be compelled to
countenance him whether they would or not--invite him to their home,
even. For, if these others did, how could they avoid it, really? Oh,
joy! And that in the face of Gilbert's high contempt for him. He fairly
chuckled as he thought of it, feeling that however much Gilbert might
resent it, neither his uncle nor Myra were likely to, and that hence he
would be fairly safe from any secret desire on the part of Gilbert to
revenge himself on him for this.
But how wonderful this invitation! Why that intriguing scribble of
Sondra's unless she was interested in him some? Why? The thought was
so thrilling that Clyde could scarcely eat his dinner that night. He
took up the card and kissed the handwriting. And instead of going to
see Roberta as usual, he decided as before on first reëncountering her,
to walk a bit, then return to his room, and retire early. And on the
morrow as before he could make some excuse--say that he had been over
to the Griffiths' home, or some one of the heads of the factory, in
order to listen to an explanation in regard to something in connection
with the work, since there were often such conferences. For, in the
face of this, he did not care to see or talk to Roberta this night.
He could not. The other thought--that of Sondra and her interest in
him--was too enticing.