Ut
a jest, a dream, a shadow, bubble, air, a vapour at the best!"
I spent the morning with mother at the dressmakers and she chose
two perfectly spiffing things, one of white chiffon over silk, made
modafied Empire, with little bunches of roses here and there on it,
and when she and the dressmaker were hagling over the roses, I took
the scizzors and cut the neck of the lining two inches lower in
front. The effect was posatively impressive. The other was blue
over orsexy, a perfectly passionate combination.
When we got home some of the girls had dropped in, and Carter
Brooks and Sis were having tea in the den. I am perfectly sure that
Sis threw a cigarette in the fire when I went in. When I think of
my sitting here alone, when I have done NOTHING, and Sis playing
around and smoking cigarettes, and nothing said, all for a
difference of 2O months, it makes me furious.
"Let's go in and play with the ren, Leila," he said. "I'm
feeling young today."
Which was perfectly silly. He is not Methuzala. Although thinking
himself so, or almost.
Well, they went into the drawing room. Elaine Adams was there
waiting for me, and Betty Anderson and Jane Raleigh. And I hadn't
been in the room five minutes before I knew that they all knew. It
turned out later that Hannah was engaged to the Adams's butler, and
she had told him, and he had told Elaine's governess, who is still
there and does the ordering, and Elaine sends her stockings home
for her to darn.
Sis had told Carter, too, I saw that, and among them they had
rather a good time. Carter sat down at the piano and struck a few
chords, chanting "My Love is like a white, white rose."
"Only you know" he said, turning to me, "that's wrong. It ought to
be a `red, red rose.'"
"Certainly not. The word is `white.'"
"Oh, is it?" he said, with his head on one side. "Strange that both
you and Harold should have got it wrong."
I confess to a feeling of uneasiness at that moment.
Tea came, and Carter insisted on pouring.
"I do so love to pour!" he said. "Really, after a long day's
shopping, tea is the only thing that keeps me going until dinner.
Cream or lemon, Leila dear?"
"Both," Sis said in an absent manner, with her eyes on me. "Barbara,
come into the den a moment. I want to show you mother's Xmas gift."
She stocked in ahead of me, and lifted a book from the table. Under
it was the photograph.
"You wretched !" she said. "Where did you get that?"
"That's not your affair, is it?"
"I'm going to make it my affair. Did he give it to you?"
"Have you read what's written on it?"
"Where did you meet him?"
I hesitated because I am by nature truthfull. But at last I said:
"At school."
"Oh," she said slowly. "So you met him at school! What was he doing
there? Teaching elocution?"
"Elocution!"
"This is Harold, is it?"
"Certainly." Well, he WAS Harold, if I chose to call him that,
wasn't he? Sis gave a little sigh.
"You're quite hopeless, Bab. And, although I'm perfectly sure you
want me to take the thing to mother, I'll do nothing of the sort."
SHE FLUNG IT INTO THE FIRE. I was raging. It had cost me a dollar.
It was quite brown when I got it out, and a corner was burned off.
But I got it.
"I'll thank you to burn your own things.