Mrs. Schmidt, Mrs. McMahon and Miss Sadie Ferguson, whom Cicily had
selected as the principal beneficiaries in her initial work of up-lift,
arrived a half-hour before the time set for the meeting of the Civitas
Society, and were shown into the drawing-room. Mrs. Schmidt, a thin wisp
of faded womanhood, effaced herself in a remote corner, while Mrs.
McMahon, a brawny Amazon with red, round face and shrewdly twinkling
eyes, frankly wandered about the room, scrutinizing the furnishings and
ornaments and commenting on them without restraint. Sadie Ferguson, on
the other hand, seated herself elegantly upright on an upholstered
chair, and disported herself altogether after the manner of heroines of
high degree as described by her favorite Brooklyn author. At times, she
stared intently, as some impressive thing strange to her experience
caught her eye; but always she recalled her manners speedily, and
forthwith relapsed into a languid indifference of demeanor such as
becomes the Vere De Vere. The trio had not long to wait before their
hostess appeared, and greeted them with a genuine cordiality that put
them at their ease, as far as ease was possible in an environment so
novel. She was at pains to pay a compliment to the girl:
"Prettier than ever, Sadie!" she exclaimed, with honest admiration. And,
in fact, the girl would have been charming, but for the disfiguring
effects of an over-gaudy dress and an abominable hat.
"Aw, quit yer kiddin'," Sadie answered coquettishly, intensely pleased
and quite forgetting the Vere De Vere manner in her pleasure over the
compliment. An expression of horror came in her face, as she realized
her violent departure from the ideal; and she added stammeringly: "I
mean, you're really too kind, my dear Mrs. Hamilton." Having achieved
this, the girl drew a long breath of relief. She felt that she had
redeemed herself in the matter of social elegance.
Cicily smiled pleasantly on Sadie, then turned to Mrs. McMahon, for she
was minded to put these women in the best of humors, in order thus to
work toward the avoidance of a strike by means of their influence over
their husbands. She observed the hat that had been the cause of
McMahon's complaint, which was, in truth, a riot of variegated ugliness.
Cicily believed, however, that in this instance the end must justify the
means.
"What a beautiful hat!" she cried, in a tone of convincing sincerity.
She even clasped her hands to emphasize her admiration.
Mrs. McMahon preened herself, and tossed her head; so that feathers and
flowers dashed their hues worse than before.
"It's nothing so much! It's just some odds and ends they threw together
for me!"
"Odds and ends!" Cicily repeated, in a hushed voice; and she added,
truthfully: "I never saw anything like it in my life." She purposely
avoided directly addressing Mrs. Schmidt, for she was aware of the
woman's painful shyness. "It was ever so good of you to come around this
afternoon," she went on. "I'm going to have some friends here to meet
you."
"Gentleman friends?" Sadie questioned, eagerly. Her face fell when
Cicily answered in the negative, and she could not restrain an
ejaculation of disappointment.
Mrs. McMahon felt it incumbent on her to administer a rebuke to the
girl.
"What do you care, Sadie, so long as they're Mrs. Hamilton's friends?"
And she added majestically, turning to her hostess: "Excuse her, ma'am."
At this public correction, Sadie flushed scarlet, and glanced
appealingly toward Mrs. Schmidt.
"What a nerve!" she commented, angrily. Then, she addressed Mrs. McMahon
herself. "If you will pardon me, Mrs. McMahon," she said, very
haughtily, "I prefer to present my own apologies in individual person."
And, finally, she turned to Cicily. "Mrs. Hamilton, if you consider my
interrogation regarding the sex of your guests impertinent, my humblest
apologies are at your disposal."
"And she didn't choke!" the Irishwoman murmured, admiringly.
Cicily insisted that there was no occasion for apology, and afterward
went on to explain something as to the character and aims of the Civitas
Society for the Uplift of Women. But here, at once, she found herself
beset with unexpected difficulties. Mrs. McMahon drew herself up with
all the dignity of her great bulk, and voiced her feeling by the tone in
which she asked:
"I would like to know, Mrs. Hamilton, if you think we are subjects for
uplifting?"
"Can you beat it!" Sadie cried, in outraged pride.
Cicily hastened to soothe her guests by an explanation that was more
ingenious than ingenuous.
"You don't understand," she remonstrated. "This is the club I spoke to
you about. I want you to become members of the society. We need you to
help in the work."
"You're on!" Sadie declared, with gusto. Again, she realized how she had
departed from her idols. "I would say," she went on mincingly, "it will
afford me great pleasure."
"You mean, then," Mrs. McMahon inquired, "that you've picked us out to
help uplift the other women?" As Cicily nodded assent, she continued,
condescendingly: "Well, if I do have to say it myself, there's many of
them as needs it."
Presently, Mrs. Carrington and Mrs. Morton were shown into the
drawing-room, and welcomed by Cicily, who insisted on introducing them
to "three other earnest workers." The newcomers submitted to the
introductions with obvious unwillingness, and their acknowledgments were
of the frigidest.
"They," Cicily explained, with a wave of her hand toward the three,
"have had large practical experience in the work of the club."
"Sure, and I have that," Mrs. McMahon agreed, expansively; "and so have
Frieda and Sadie--in a smaller way, of course."
Mrs. Carrington unbent so far as to ejaculate, "Indeed!" the while she
surveyed the speaker through a lorgnette; and Mrs. Morton added an
unenthusiastic, "Really!"
Cicily, who was all anxiety to establish harmonious relations between
the two parties of her guests, since so much might depend on the result
of her efforts, spoke placatingly to the company:
"I'm sure you ladies will find one another entertaining."
"Oh, vastly entertaining, no doubt!" Mrs. Morton replied; but her tone
was far from satisfactory to the worried hostess. Nor was the manner of
Mrs. McMahon calculated to relieve the tension.
"If I live, I'll have the time of my life!" she declared, grimly. She
turned to Mrs. Morton: "Is your husband's family any relation to the
Mortons of County Clare, if I may make so bold as to ask?"
"Yes," Mrs. Morton answered, with much complacency. "Mr. Morton at
present keeps up his old family estate in Ireland."
"Sure, and that wouldn't bust him," Mrs. McMahon commented caustically.
"I remember the estate--a bit of a cabin in a bog." The Amazon's huge
frame shook as she chuckled. "Just ask your husband; he'll remember me
well. Sure, the last time I saw him was when his aunt, Nora, married Tom
McMahon, my husband's uncle. Faith, it's cousins we are by marriage."
What might have been Mrs. Morton's attitude toward this suddenly
discovered kinship must remain forever in doubt; for, to Cicily's
unbounded relief, a diversion was now offered by the appearance on the
scene of Mrs. Flynn, Miss Johnson and Ruth Howard. Once again, the
necessary introductions were made. Mrs. Flynn displayed astonishment at
the style of these "ladies," but contrived a neutral manner that was
void of offense. Miss Johnson was distant, but Ruth was honestly
pleased with this opportunity for sisterly association for the sake of
uplift, and rolled her large eyes ecstatically.
"These ladies," Cicily explained anew, "are the members whom the club
has met to consider. They have had wide experience in the great work of
helping women."
"Indeed, and you're right, Mrs. Hamilton," Mrs. McMahon affirmed.
"Whenever anything happens on the block, it's Katy McMahon they send
for. Faith, setting-ups and laying-outs are my specialties."
Mrs. Carrington and Mrs. Morton had withdrawn to a _tete-a-tete_ at some
distance, where they were engaged in a low-toned conversation,
punctuated by many head-shakings. The hostess had seated the new
arrivals in chairs opposite Mrs. McMahon and Sadie. It was evident by
their exclamations that Mrs. Flynn and Ruth were mystified and impressed
by the Irishwoman's explanation. But Miss Johnson maintained an air of
impenetrable reserve.
"Setting-ups!" quoth the militant suffragette.
"Laying-outs!" sighed Ruth; and she turned up her eyes, with a blink of
inquiry.
"Yes," Mrs. McMahon went on, unctuously; "setting up with the sick, and
laying out the dead. Faith, sometimes, I have to be nurse and
undertaker, all in one."
"So," Ruth gushed, unrolling her eyes with some difficulty, "sitting up
with the sick, and laying out the dead, is your great work!"
"Oh, not that entirely," the Irishwoman continued, "not that entirely!
Of course, I have to run my house; and, now and then, when a family's
too poor to have a doctor, 'tis myself that brings a baby into the world
on the side, so to speak. Having had five myself, I'm quite familiar
with the how of it."
There came a horrified gasp from the women listening.
"Cheese it!" Sadie whispered, fiercely. From her study of the favorite
author, she surmised that Mrs. McMahon was wandering far afield from the
small talk of a Clara Vere De Vere. "Your subject for conversation is
really positively shocking and disgusting," she added, aloud.
Cicily attempted yet once again to establish harmony among discordant
elements.
"Mrs. McMahon has done so much good in homes of suffering," she said
gently, "that she's very direct in her speech."
The good-natured Irishwoman herself chose to make the _amende
honorable_, but after her own fashion.
"Sure, excuse me, ladies," she exclaimed, heartily. "Faith, I didn't
mean to speak of anything so unfashionable as the bearing of children."
Mrs. Delancy and a friend entered at this moment, to the great relief of
Cicily, who greeted her kinswoman warmly, and at once led her toward
Mrs. McMahon.
"Here is someone whom you know, Aunt Emma," she said, with significant
emphasis.
Mrs. Delancy, after one look of shocked amazement at the unwieldy figure
squeezed into a gilt chair, which threatened momentarily to collapse
under the unaccustomed burden, recovered the poise of the well-bred
woman of unquestioned social position, and went forward cordially,
holding out her hand.
"Oh, it's Mrs. McMahon!" she exclaimed, with a pleasant smile. "I'm
delighted to have you with us in this work."
Under this geniality, all of the Irishwoman's resentment vanished, and
she returned the greeting warmly.
"And how is little Jimmy?" Mrs. Delancy continued, returning to Mrs.
McMahon, after having spoken to Mrs. Schmidt and Sadie.
Thus addressed, the maternal Amazon displayed certain evidences of
confusion, and, indeed, seemed inclined to evade the issue, for she
replied after a little hesitation:
"Sure, ma'am, Michael and Terence and Patrick and Katy and Nora are all
fine."
"And Jimmy?" Mrs. Delancy persisted, albeit somewhat puzzled by the
woman's manner.
"Well, ma'am," Mrs. McMahon made answer, with an embarrassment that was
a stranger to her "you see, ma'am, there's only five, at present.... We
haven't had Jimmy yet!"
There came a gasping chorus from the whole company. Cicily, who had
taken her position behind the table set for the presiding officer of the
Civitas Club, lifted a scarlet face, as she beat a tattoo with the
gavel, and called out bravely:
"The Civitas Society will now come to order!"