Part 3 (1/2)
”No,” said Mrs. Wishart, smiling; ”not necessarily. Religion has nothing to do with it. I mean--we mean-- It is astonis.h.i.+ng how hard it is to put some things! I mean, a family that has had a good social standing for generations. Of course such a family is connected with other good families, and it is consequently strong, and has advantages for all belonging to it.”
”I mean,” said Lois slowly, ”a family that has served G.o.d for generations. Such a family has connections too, and advantages.”
”Why, my dear,” said Mrs. Wishart, opening her eyes a little at the girl, ”the two things are not inconsistent, I hope.”
”I hope not.”
”Wealth and position are good things at any rate, are they not?”
”So far as they go, I suppose so,” said Lois. ”O yes, they are pleasant things; and good things, if they are used right.”
”They are whether or no. Come! I can't have you holding any extravagant ideas, Lois. They don't do in the world. They make one peculiar, and it is not good taste to be peculiar.”
”You know, I am not in the world,” Lois answered quietly.
”Not when you are at home, I grant you; but here, in my house, you are; and when you have a house of your own, it is likely you will be. No more coffee, my dear? Then let us go to the order of the day. What is this, Williams?”
”For Miss Lot'rop,” the obsequious servant replied with a bow,--”de bo-quet.” But he presented to his mistress a little note on his salver, and then handed to Lois a magnificent bunch of hothouse flowers. Mrs.
Wishart's eyes followed the bouquet, and she even rose up to examine it.
”That is beautiful, my dear. What camellias! And what geraniums! That is the Black Prince, one of those, I am certain; yes, I am sure it is; and that is one of the new rare varieties. That has not come from any florist's greenhouse. Never. And that rose-coloured geranium is Lady Sutherland. Who sent the flowers, Williams?”
”Here is his card, Mrs. Wishart,” said Lois. ”Mr. Caruthers.”
”Tom Caruthers!” echoed Mrs. Wishart. ”He has cut them in his mother's greenhouse, the sinner!”
”Why?” said Lois. ”Would that be not right?”
”It would be right, _if_--. Here's a note from Tom's mother, Lois--but not about the flowers. It is to ask us to a luncheon party. Shall we go?”
”You know, dear Mrs. Wishart, I go just where you choose to take me,”
said the girl, on whose cheeks an exquisite rose tint rivalled the Lady Sutherland geranium blossoms. Mrs. Wishart noticed it, and eyed the girl as she was engrossed with her flowers, examining, smelling, and smiling at them. It was pleasure that raised that delicious bloom in her cheeks, she decided; was it anything more than pleasure? What a fair creature! thought her hostess; and yet, fair as she is, what possible chance for her in a good family? A young man may be taken with beauty, but not his relations; and they would object to a girl who is n.o.body and has nothing. Well, there is a chance for her, and she shall have the chance.
”Lois, what will you wear to this luncheon party?”
”You know all my dresses, Mrs. Wishart. I suppose my black silk would be right.”
”No, it would not be right at all. You are too young to wear black silk to a luncheon party. And your white dress is not the thing either.”
”I have nothing else that would do. You must let me be old, in a black silk.”
”I will not let you be anything of the kind. I will get you a dress.”
”No, Mrs. Wishart; I cannot pay for it.”
”I will pay for it.”