XXVII
Mrs. Haight was hastily putting her parlor in order for the "Ten o'ClockFive Hundred Club." She was without a servant, having had four hiredgirls and three Japs in the past month; during the last three days shehad cooked for herself and Mr. Haight, "done all the work," and attendedseven card parties. Mr. Haight, who had not had his dinner the nightbefore until nine o'clock, and whose steak this morning had been burnedand his coffee muddy, had gone down-town in a huff, threatening to moveto the hotel unless his wife found a servant or her sanity.
Mrs. Haight, who wore a red flannel wrapper trimmed with black lace,which she believed became her style, shook up the sofa-cushions on thedivan, where she longed to receive her guests reclining in Orientalvoluptuousness, but had never dared, and dusted the table as if she wereslapping an enemy's face. The bed was not made, nor likely to be beforenight, and she too knew the penalties of burned steak and bad coffee,enhanced by the irritability of the insomniac. She had her redeemingvirtues, no doubt; all have, even burglars and murderers, until theyslip into the region of pathology; but this morning she looked and feltlike a she-wolf; and few mammals are so dangerous, particularly ashe-wolf that has never suckled young.
Her expected guests arrived promptly, glowing with the light dry cold,some wearing furs because they became the season, others thin clothjackets over their shirt-waists. One had bundled herself into a brocheshawl and "run over" hatless. Each, as she entered the parlor, cast acritical eye upon the silver spoon standing in lonely glory on themantel-piece, and nodded or scowled, according to her bent. Mrs. Haightwas far too cunning to detain them from the tables they fairly rushed atas the last member arrived, and it was not until they had "scrapped" andwrestled and stormed at and abused each other for at least two hours,not until their ugly passions were in full possession, and they threwdown their cards with loud indignation that a substitute should beallowed "to compete for a prize, anyhow"--the substitute having won thespoon--that the hostess, with the peculiar slow fire in her eyes thatmarks the beast of prey in sight of its quarry, suddenly let it beunderstood that the high tension was to be relieved with a choice bit ofscandal. It was some time since they had had one; propriety, likebusiness honesty, being almost inevitable in a community little largerthan a throne.
Mrs. Wheaton exclaimed: "Your eyes look like two burnt holes in ablanket, Minerva. What is it? Hurry up. I must run home and supervise anew Swede that speaks ten words of English. She asked me if I wantedyoung children for dinner. I suppose she meant chickens, but one neverknows, and Anabel's babies are just over the fence."
"It's this, and it's no joking matter, Sarah Wheaton. I saw Mr. Gwynnepass this house at three o'clock this morning, and on Isabel Otis'shorse. Now, I saw him going out to Old Inn, _walking_ before sundown.He had plenty of time to say what he had to say and get home at a decenthour--which is long before half-past ten, and that's what it's been manya night. This thing has become a scandal to the community, and I for onewon't stand it any longer. Its downright immoral, and I'm not using toostrong language purposely."
"Oh my!" exclaimed Dolly Boutts. "You could never make me believeanything against Isabel. He's studying terribly hard--the judge toldpa--and likely as not has insomnia. Englishmen are so terribly dull totalk to I shouldn't wonder if it was hard work for them to learnanything."
"Insomnia!" cried Mrs. Haight. "I guess I have insomnia and I guess Iknow what I am talking about. What does a kid like you know of thewickedness of the world, or insomnia either? But this has gone just asfar as _I_ intend to permit it."
"It certainly looks very bad, very bad," muttered Mrs. Wheaton, whoseown light eyes were glowing. "What steps shall you take, Minerva? Orwhat should you advise me to do? I am sorry I had forgotten the girl. Ishould have kept the eye on her that I intended."
"It's a matter for all, not for any one of us. I intend to bring it upat the Club Meeting this afternoon, and I expect you all to back me, forthe thing's a disgrace to the community, and all our girls will betalked about. In my opinion the best thing to do is to tell her to leaveand go and live in that hot-bed of wickedness, San Francisco."
"Why Minerva, you're a regular old Puritan witch-hunter!" exclaimed Mrs.Colton. "You never could make me believe that child had any harm inher--"
"It isn't what one believes. It's what is. I know. I've studied humannature. If I don't know anything else I know that. She'll get out ofRosewater, or I'll hit her in her weak spot. I'll write her up for theSan Francisco _Illuminator_. They'd give hundreds, and they can have itfor nothing--"
"Why, Minerva Haight, I'm ashamed of you!" cried Mrs. Colton. "It's likepersecution, and you have no proof. Why should you know more of theworld than we do, I'd like to know?"
"I do, that's all. And I don't see her doing every mortal thing shewants, while others have to walk a chalked line through life. It's allor none. That's my creed. She'll soon wilt when she sees we meanbusiness--either go, or take a chaperon, or marry the man, whichever sheprefers. I don't care, so long as she ain't allowed to do as she pleasesand no questions asked and no penalty paid. But she'll knuckle, for it'smy opinion she's just making money to spend it in San Francisco--cut adash there like her mother did before her. Probably wants to become asociety leader and have a string of lovers. Nice product to hail fromRosewater. I think she ought to be sent back to Europe where they don'tmind such goings on. The things you do read about the Englisharistocracy! It's my opinion _that_ Lady Victoria ain't any better thanshe should be. She looks it--and through us, just as if we werewindow-panes."
"You are real crude, Minerva," said Mrs. Colton, crushingly, as she roseto go. "I thought Rosewater was near enough to the metropolis for us notto be as provincial as some folks farther up the line, who haven't thesame advantages."
"I guess we're all crude enough, if it comes to that," retorted Mrs.Haight. "I'd like to know what's cruder than a man's staying at a girl'shouse till two o'clock in the morning--and for all the high and mightyway he carries himself--and him the born image of Hi Otis. It's tooridiculous. I'd like to bring him down several pegs, too."
"He bears only the most distant resemblance to Hi Otis," said Mrs.Colton, indignantly. "I never could endure Hi; he didn't have themanners of a car-conductor, and this young man's real polite and kind,besides having a _much_ more high-toned face. I don't believe you canrun him out, either. He looks the kind to stay or go, just as suits him.And I'd advise you to think this matter over before you give itpublicity. I might go out and speak to Isabel quietly--"
"Not much she don't get off as easy as that!"
Mrs. Wheaton nodded approvingly. "It's a case for the Club," said she."We'll talk it out this afternoon and decide what's best to do."
And all the others, save Mrs. Colton and the loyal Dolly, cordiallyagreed with her.
Ancestors: A Novel Page 46