"Pity. You've lots to learn yet. Most of you Southerners have, but
when you catch up you speed all right. I'll give you this for
nothing--don't toboggan all at once. Have you seen this picture of
Hope's crank of a brother? You needn't expect to meet him. He comes
of good Vermont stock, and its granite is no firmer than his
principles; but he has no manners. I've known him fifteen years and
am qualified to speak."
"He has got manners!" Mrs. Warrick turned indignantly toward Miss
French. "Claudia only got here Thursday night, and Winthrop has been
too busy--"
"Busy! You're dippy about Winthrop, Hope. He's the most indifferent
human being to other human beings that walks this earth, and has more
friends--men friends--than any man I know. He's rotten spoiled;
that's what's the matter with him. He's been chased, I admit. What
uncaught man of means isn't? I've no patience with Winthrop. It's
natural young girls should bore him, but that's no reason why he
should live so entirely to himself."
"Perhaps"--Claudia took up a letter from the table in front of her
and with it tapped her lips absently--"perhaps he prefers to live
that way. I wonder, Miss French, if you can tell me where
Kroonstater's is? No one here seems to know, and every day I get
further commissions from my county which can only be filled there.
Years ago some one from Brooke Bank bought wonderful and marvelous
Christmas things from Kroonstater's, and ever since it's been the one
store in New York for many of our people. I must find it."
"Kroonstater's?" Miss French again put up her lorgnette. "Never
heard of it."
Claudia laughed. "I see you, too, have something to learn. You
don't know the joy of shopping if you don't know a store of that
kind. I suppose I'll have to find it by myself."
"For goodness' sake don't, Claudia." Mrs. Warrick got up; some one
at the telephone wanted her. "I passed one of those downtown stores
once, and the crowd in it was something awful. You never know what
kind of disease you might catch, and the people are so pushy. All
the nice stores have Christmas things."
"I don't doubt it." Claudia smiled. "But Brooke Bank people have
ideas of their own. Their demands are many, and their dollars few.
And, then, I love to see the crowd. Their pennies are as important
as our pounds, and to watch their spending is the best kind of a
play."
"Where did you say you came from?" Miss French surveyed the girl in
front of her with sudden interest. Something new under the sun was
ever the quest of her inquiries and pursuits, and as if she had
possibly found it she looked closer at her friend's guest. Not the
youth, not the fair skin now flushed with color that came and went,
nor the long dark lashes, nor perfect teeth, nor anything that could
be named made the girl distinctive, but something well-defined and
penetrating. Again she asked the question. "Where did you say you
were from?"
"From Virginia. Have you ever been there?"
Miss French shook her head.
Claudia sat up. In her eyes no longer laughter, and incredulity that
was genuine. "You mean you _never_ have been to Virginia?"
"Never."
Elbows on the table and chin in the palms of her hands, Claudia
looked at Miss French as intently as Miss French looked at Claudia.
"Then you've never heard, I suppose, of the Northern Neck, or
Westmoreland County, or Essex, or Lancaster, or King George, or--"
"Never. Quite English, aren't they? Is that where you live?"
"I live in Essex. We're on the Rappahannock. There isn't a railroad
in the county. We have to take the boat for Fredericksburg or
Norfolk to get anywhere, unless we cross the river into Westmoreland
County and drive over to the Potomac side and make the boat to
Washington. Have you ever been to Washington?"
"Of course. I've been pretty well over the world."
"And left out its best part!" Claudia laughed and got up to turn the
logs which were smoking. "You mustn't die before seeing it. There
isn't so much to see, perhaps, but a good deal to feel. Do you like
fox-hunting?"
"Never tried it." Again Miss French looked at the girl now standing
in front of her. She was certainly not a plate of fashion--that is,
not a French plate--but she was graceful, and her clothes were really
very good. Her unconsciousness of self was rather astounding in a
country girl.
"I think you'd like a fox-hunt. I will miss the big one this
year--Thanksgiving comes so late, and Christmas there's no time."
"Christmas in the country must be very stupid."
"Stupid!" Claudia's hands, which had been clasped behind her back,
opened and came together on her breast. "Of course"--her eyes were
raised to Miss French's--"it's a point of view, I suppose. We don't
think it's stupid. We love it."
Miss French got up, put her cigarette-case in her velvet hand-bag,
slipped on her coat, fastened her veil, picked up her muff, shook it,
and looked toward the door, between whose curtains Mrs. Warrick was
standing.
"I thought you'd gone for good, Hope. You must have been telling all
you knew, and more. Miss Keith was just saying she loved Christmas
in the country. I can't imagine anything worse, unless it's
Christmas in town. I hate Christmas! If I could go to sleep a week
before, and not wake up until a week after, I'd surely do it. Why,
Winthrop Laine!"
On her way to the door Miss Robin French stood still and looked at
the man coming in; and over her ruddy face swept color, almost purple
in its deepness. She was a handsome woman, stubbornly resisting the
work of time. In her eyes was restless seeking, in her movements an
energy that could not be exercised in the limits of her little world;
and Claudia, watching her, felt sudden whimsical sympathy. She was
so big, so lordly, so hungrily unhappy.
She held out her hand. "How do you do?" she said. "I am just going
home, as your sister hasn't asked me to dinner. I suppose you will
stay--"
"If there's to be any dinner. Hope has a way of cutting it out every
now and then." He turned to his sister. "Are you going out to-night?"
"I certainly am not, and I'm so glad you've come! I've lots to tell
you and ask you. Won't you stay, Robin?" The question was put
feebly. "Do stay. Oh, I beg your pardon, Claudia, you were so far
off! You haven't met my brother. Winthrop, this is Channing's
cousin, Miss Keith. Please give him some tea, Claudia. I know he's
frozen. Can't you stay, Robin--really?"
"Really nothing! Good-bye." Miss French waved her muff to the man
who, over the teacups, was shaking hands with the girl on the
opposite side of the table, and shook her head as he started toward
her. "Don't come, Jenkins is out there with the car. I'd stay to
dinner, but Hope doesn't enjoy hers if there's a high-neck dress at
the table. Good-bye, Miss Keith; see you to-morrow night, I
suppose." And, like a good strong draught that passes, she was gone.
"I'm glad she had sense enough not to stay." Mrs. Warrick came toward
the tea-table. "I'm fond of Robin, but of late she's been even more
energetic and emphatic than usual, and I feel like I'm being
battledored and shuttlecocked whenever I see her. Why don't you
drink your tea, Winthrop?"
"I don't believe I put any sugar in it. I beg your pardon!" Claudia
took up the sugarbowl. "It was Miss French, I guess. She's such
a--such a gusty person. I love to hear her talk. How many, Mr.
Laine?"
"Three, please, and no comments, Hope. If a man must drink tea he
ought to have all the sugar he wants. That last lump was so very
little I think you might put in another, Miss Keith. Thank you.
Perhaps this is sweet enough." "Winthrop just takes tea to have the
sugar, He's as bad as Dorothea about sweet things." Mrs. Warrick
turned to her brother. "Are you really going to stay to dinner?
Please do. This is the only evening we're to be home for a week, and
Charming is anxious to see you on some business."
"Is he?" Laine put down his cup. "Well, he won't see me on business
to-night. I've an office down-town. In your part of the world, Miss
Keith, don't you ever let men have a chance to forget there's such a
thing as business?"
Claudia got up. "I'm afraid they have too much chance." She put her
hand lightly on Mrs. Warrick's arm. "Will you excuse me, Hope? I
have a letter to write." She bowed slightly in Laine's direction and
was gone before he could reach the door to draw aside the curtains
for her.
Mrs. Warrick leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Do sit
down, Winthrop, and let's talk. I'm so glad to have a little time
alone with you. I so seldom have it that--"
"Your guest was certainly not slow in giving it to you. She could
hardly do anything but leave after your insistence upon having things
to tell me. What in the name of Heaven did you do that for? Does
she think we don't know how to behave up here?"
"Oh, she understands! She knows you didn't come to see her, and,
besides, she's gone up-stairs to write to her mother. If King George
had been here she'd have gone. You know, I really dreaded her
coming, but I needn't. She has been to a good many places--was
abroad for a year with one of her sisters whose husband was secretary
or something to one of our ministers or somebody--but she doesn't
know New York at all. She's met a number of her friend's friends
already, and I won't have to scoop up men for her. Last night at the
Van Doren's she had more around her than she could talk to. Always
has had, Channing says. She'll be no bother; and don't stay away
because she's here. Tell me"--she put her hand on his knee--"is it
true you are going to Panama next month? Robin French told me she
heard you would leave on the twelfth."
"If Miss French could sell fairy tales as rapidly as she can repeat
them she'd make a fortune. I have no idea what I am going to do next
month."
"I wish I didn't know I was going to Savannah for Christmas. It's
Channing's year, and of course we ought to go to his mother, as she
is too old to come to us, but there's so much going on, and then
you'll be alone."
"Oh, I'll manage all right. The one good thing about Christmas is it
doesn't last long." He leaned forward and with the tongs turned a
smoldering log. "But it's incomprehensible how a woman with a home
can keep up this everlasting going to other people's houses.
To-morrow night you go--"
"To the Taillors. Mrs. Taillor's debutante daughter makes her first
bow to--"
"Capitalized society, does she? Poor child! The pains of pleasure
are many."
"They surely are! She looks like a scared rabbit, and I heard her
say only a week ago she'd rather die than be a debutante. But she'll
get on. Her mother will corral the men and compel them to come in
and pay her attention. Are you going?"
"Hardly." Laine looked at his watch. "What time do you have dinner?"
"Seven. It's time for me to dress." Mrs. Warrick got up. "Do pray
be decent and go to-morrow night, Winthrop. Mr. Taillor has been
such a good friend, and Mrs. Taillor will be so pleased. Don't
forget to send the child flowers. I wonder if Claudia is ready.
Dorothea grabs her every chance she gets, and I don't doubt she's
with the children this minute. She'll stay until dinner is served,
so don't worry; and for goodness' sake don't let her being here keep
you away."