At last the day of Estella's coming-out—the day Elizabeth was to meet her fairy god-mother once more—arrived. When the Vision was finally tucked away into his crib for his afternoon nap, and the leisurely1 young lady warned again and again to watch him carefully, Elizabeth dressed in the required white gown with the blue ribbons, and, with Annie looking very sweet and youthful in John Coulson's favorite shade of dove-gray, set off down the shady streets towards the Raymond home.
It was a hot, still afternoon, one of those days that seem left over from August which so often descend2 upon the coolness of October. The long rows of maples3 that bordered the street hung their scarlet4 banners motionless in the sultry air. The sky, a hazy5 warm blue, seemed much nearer the earth than usual. Away down at the end of each leafy avenue Lake Cheemaun lay like a silver mirror. As they crossed a dusty street on the hilltop, Elizabeth could see a little crimson6 and golden island reflected perfectly7 in the glassy depths. Another street gave a picture of a yellow elm, with an oriole's empty nest depending from a drooping9 branch. It hung over the roadway, making a golden curtain through which gleamed the blue and silver.
Elizabeth sighed happily, and, as was her habit, fell into the mood of the day, listless, languorous10. She strolled along, all unmindful of the dust on her new slippers11, and of Estella's reception, until her sister recalled her to the business of the afternoon by declaring that they must hurry, for they were already late.
"It's fortunate I wasn't asked to play cards, or we'd have to be there sharp at four."
"I suppose Stella 'll turn it into a garden-party, won't she?" murmured Elizabeth, gazing far down the street at a motionless sail on the silver mirror—standing like a painted ship on a painted lake. "It's so lovely out of doors."
"A garden-party, oh, no! That's dreadfully old-fashioned," said Annie solemnly. "No one in Cheemaun would dare to give one now. This is to be a Bridge—partially12, but Mrs. Raymond is asking a great many other people who are old-fashioned like me, and won't play, so they are to come late and remain in the drawing-room while the players sit in the library."
"It's like dividing the sheep from the goats," said Elizabeth frivolously14. "Aren't you sorry just to be a sheep, Ann? It's so old-fashioned." Annie laughed uncertainly. She never quite understood Elizabeth, and felt she ought to rebuke15 her frivolity16. "No, I'm not. What would become of Baby if his mother——"
"Turned goat? But say, I'd love to learn just to see what it was like to go out every day and be a—what is it?—a social success. I believe that is what Aunt Margaret would like."
Annie rebuked17 her gently. She was always just a little afraid of Lizzie. The wild streak18 seemed to be in abeyance19 lately, but it might break out in a new form any day.
Their arrival at the Raymond home forbade her admonishing20 her at any length. It was a beautiful house—a fine red brick with white porch pillars, of course, and surrounded by a spacious21 lawn dotted with shrubbery and flower-beds. Its only drawback was its position, it being placed on the wrong side of Elm Crescent, the street bordering Sunset Hill. In consequence the Raymonds had suffered somewhat from social obscurity, and this At Home was partially to serve the purpose of raising them nearer the level of the proud homes on the hilltop.
Elizabeth became suddenly shy and nervous as she followed her sister up the broad steps and saw the rooms crowded with fashionably dressed people. She was not generally conscious of her clothes, but she could not help feeling, as she glanced over the sea of bonnets23 and hats and white kid gloves, that her muslin dress and blue ribbons must look very shabby indeed. And somehow Annie had become transformed. Upon starting out she had appeared to be the very pattern of fashionable elegance24. Now she looked like a demure25 little gray nun26. Elizabeth felt that neither of them was likely to make any impression upon Mrs. Jarvis, and began to hope devoutly27 that she would not meet the lady.
There seemed little fear of it. The rooms were crowded and stifling28 hot. The Raymond house had plenty of doors and windows, but good form in Cheemaun society demanded that all light and air be excluded from a fashionable function. So the blinds were drawn29 close, and Estella and her mother stood broiling30 beneath the gas-lamps, for though the former was half-suffocated31 with the heat, she would have entirely32 suffocated with mortification33 had she received her guests in the vulgar light of day.
By the time Elizabeth and her sister arrived, the sheep had been thoroughly34 divided from the goats. From the drawing-room on the left side of the spacious hall a babel and scream of voices mingled35 with the noisy notes of a piano poured forth36, but in the library on the right there was a deathly silence, except for the click, click of the cards on the polished tables.
The guests were met at the door by an exceedingly haughty37 young woman with a discontented face beneath a huge pompadour of hair. "Will you come upstairs and lay off your wraps?" she demanded frigidly38.
"Why, Katie!" cried Elizabeth, recognizing her old schoolmate, even in her unaccustomed garb39 of a black silk gown and white cap, "I'm so glad to see you."
But Miss Price was not going to forgive Lizzie Gordon for being a guest at a house where she was a servant. Had their positions been reversed Katie would have been quite as haughty and forbidding as she was now. "How d'ye-do," she said, with an air her young mistress, now setting her foot upon the social ladder, might well have envied. "You're to go upstairs," she commanded further.
"But we haven't anything to take off," protested Mrs. John Coulson, nervously40, afraid she was omitting some requisite41 part of the ceremony. "We'd better not if Mrs. Raymond doesn't mind."
The young woman relaxed none of her haughtiness42. "She said to take everybody up," she remarked disdainfully.
They were interrupted by a very large Hat coming violently out of the library door.
"Goodness, it's not her!" gasped44 the occupant of the hat, a tiny woman with a brisk, sharp manner. She turned to the room again. "No luck! It's Mrs. Coulson." She spoke45 as if Mrs. Coulson had made a mistake in coming. "You didn't see that Mrs. Oliver on your way down, did you?" she demanded of the unwelcome one.
No, they had not seen her. Mrs. Coulson answered apologetically, and the big Hat flounced back into the library and sat down heavily in its chair. The Hat was bitterly disappointed, and no wonder. She had come to the Function sure of the prize, being one of Cheemaun star players, but had met with a succession of incompetent46 partners. At present Mrs. Oliver, a fine old Bridge warrior47, should have been sitting opposite her, but Mrs. Oliver was late, which was criminal, and the Hat's partner was a nervous young matron who had left two sick babies and her wits at home. Consequently the aspirant48 for the prize had lost game after game and was now losing her temper. One of her opponents, a frivolous13 lady whose score-card was decorated with green stars, giggled49 and whispered to the hapless partner not to mind, the Hat was only an old crank anyway; old maids always got like that. She would have continued in the same strain but for a look of deep rebuke from her own partner. The partner was a stately, middle-aged50 lady, a president of the Cheemaun Whist Club, and a second Sarah Battle. She had suffered much from the silly inattention of the winner of the green stars, she frowned majestically51, not because she objected to the young woman's condemnation52 of the Hat, but because she considered it much worse form to talk during a game of cards than during prayers in church.
Again deep silence fell, and they all went furiously to work once more in the breathless heat.
Elizabeth was very much interested, but Mrs. John Coulson drew her away towards the palm and fern-embowered door of the drawing-room. She was somewhat disappointed at the news of Mrs. Oliver's non-appearance, for that meant that neither was Mrs. Jarvis present. The fates did seem to be against Lizzie certainly.
They were once more delayed. A couple of ladies who had just entered were about to make their way to the drawing-room door, but had been encountered by Miss Price, and a rather heated argument was in progress. The ladies belonged to the old school, and were not acquainted with the intricacies of a fashionable function. The foremost was a fine, stately matron who had been Sarah Raymond's stanch53 friend ever since the days when they had run barefoot to school together. And while under her sensible black Sabbath bonnet22 there still remained much warm affection and sympathy with all Sarah's doings, at the same time there was developing not a little impatience54 with what she termed Sarah's norms. She had just caught sight of the card-players in the library, too, and was righteously indignant that she, an elder's wife, should have been bidden to such a questionabl............