"Why Minerva, you're a regular old Puritan witch-hunter!" exclaimed Mrs.

Colton. "You never could make me believe that child had any harm in her--"

"It isn't what one believes. It's what is. I know. I've studied human nature. If I don't know anything else I know that. She'll get out of Rosewater, or I'll hit her in her weak spot. I'll write her up for the San Francisco _Illuminator_. They'd give hundreds, and they can have it for nothing--"

"Why, Minerva Haight, I'm ashamed of you!" cried Mrs. Colton. "It's like persecution, and you have no proof. Why should you know more of the world than we do, I'd like to know?"

"I do, that's all. And I don't see her doing every mortal thing she wants, while others have to walk a chalked line through life. It's all or none. That's my creed. She'll soon wilt when she sees we mean business--either go, or take a chaperon, or marry the man, whichever she prefers. I don't care, so long as she ain't allowed to do as she pleases and no questions asked and no penalty paid. But she'll knuckle, for it's my opinion she's just making money to spend it in San Francisco--cut a dash there like her mother did before her. Probably wants to become a society leader and have a string of lovers. Nice product to hail from Rosewater. I think she ought to be sent back to Europe where they don't mind such goings on. The things you do read about the English aristocracy! It's my opinion _that_ Lady Victoria ain't any better than she should be. She looks it--and through us, just as if we were window-panes."

"You are real crude, Minerva," said Mrs. Colton, crushingly, as she rose to go. "I thought Rosewater was near enough to the metropolis for us not to be as provincial as some folks farther up the line, who haven't the same 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's house till two o'clock in the morning--and for all the high and mighty way he carries himself--and him the born image of Hi Otis. It's too ridiculous. 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 the manners 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 can run 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 it publicity. 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, cordially agreed with her.

XXVIII

The Rosewater Literary, Political, and Improvement Club met on the first and fourth Thursdays of the month, in a large room on the top floor of the Town Hall, and across the corridor from the Public Library. Saving only the business section of Rosewater, rejuvenated by the fruitful Leghorn, there was no such centre of activity within forty miles.

Rosewater, once as disreputable as San Francisco in the Fifties, now contributed but an occasional drunkard or burglar to the languid powers on the first floor of the Town Hall. The reading public was largely confined to young girls with the taste for romance fresh on the palate.

The new books wandered in a year after the rest of the world had forgotten them, and rarely in couples. One copy was quite able to quench the thirst for "keeping up," and was often read aloud in the intervals between cards. The standard works were well represented, however, and a reasonable amount of history. "All Rosewater's good for," quoth one of the biting wits of St. Peter, "is to die in. If you're born there people never forget it; it sticks to you like a strawberry mark on the end of your nose. And if you live there you might as well be dead, anyhow."

Rosewater retorted that if St. Peter had a better library it was because she had nothing else to do than read, and, for all its court-house, was nothing but a suburb of Rosewater, anyway; or at the best a mere headquarters for drummers.

On the afternoon following Mrs. Haight's card-party the large sunny room with its outlook upon marsh and hill was filled promptly at two o'clock; for the word had flown about town that Minerva Haight was on the war-path and that the scalp she pursued was Isabel Otis's. The President, as she rapped for order, betrayed no ruffling of the humorous imperturbability that had made her a power in Rosewater. Mrs. Leslie, although of "the old Southern set" of San Francisco, had none of the external elegances of Mrs. Wheaton, Mrs. Boutts and Dolly, or even of her own daughter. She was generally to be seen in a rusty black frock and bonnet, a pair of eye-gla.s.ses in black frames bestriding the bridge of her nose. But her eyes were very black and bright, her mouth was as firm as it was kind and humorous. Beside her sat the Treasurer, Mrs.

Wheaton, whom Mrs. Leslie understood as thoroughly as she did every member of the flock that was really hers, although in matters of mere society she disdained to lead it. Mrs. Wheaton, for all her petty airs and evil-scenting profile, was really a woman of high ideals. Her severity to others was due to the secret knowledge that these ideals were beyond her personal accomplishment, and the satisfaction to be derived from audibly rating the failings of her neighbors. Her highest ideal was self-control, particularly in relation to the weaknesses of the flesh; but after a period of stern abstinence, she indulged inordinately in oysters, fried chicken with cream gravy, and ice-cream with cocoanut cake; and sipped a night-cap upon retiring. Her pa.s.sion for cards had long since routed her will; but she intended to reform wholly in time, for she walked in fear of the Lord. If she judged the young harshly, she persuaded herself that she had only their well-being at heart. She was one of the pillars of the church and gave liberally to its support.

Mrs. Haight, who, as we have seen, enjoyed one of those purely fortuitous reputations for cleverness, was Secretary of the combined wings of the Club, and sat on Mrs. Leslie's left. Mrs. Wheaton's portly person was sheathed in purple velvet, and there were handsome strings between two of her chins, but Mrs. Haight wore a battered hat of Neapolitan straw bedecked with a ragged bunch of carnations. It sat on one side of her ill-kept head, giving her a singularly rakish and definite appearance. She was furthermore attired in an old Paisley shawl belonging to her grandmother--what better way to advertise a grandmother?--over a blue alpaca frock made by her own unskilful fingers. Mr. Haight was the most prosperous druggist in Rosewater, but his wife had sounding virtues.

The other members of the Club, some sixty in number, were as variously dressed as became their pockets or proclivities, decently for the most part, for there was no poverty in Rosewater. Mrs. Leslie took no notice of the charged atmosphere, but proceeded to business as methodically as if engaged in her morning housekeeping. The minutes of the last meeting were read by Mrs. Haight, in the cultivated tones of one who had recited upon the stage of her youth, "Curfew shall not ring to-night," and "The Wreck of the Hesperus." The huskily strident voice trembled slightly, but she read several pages of foolscap without a break, and finished with a flourish. Then Mrs. Leslie, in spite of sc.r.a.ping chairs, asked Mrs. Colton, Chairman of the Improvement Inspection Committee to read her report on the condition of the new concrete pavements, of several homesick palm-trees in the public squares, and on the prospect of removing tin cans and soda-water bottles from the picnic grounds. This resort was near the marsh, and it was the pet project of the ladies of Rosewater to extend it into a boulevard as far as Point Santiago, so that "public picnickers" should find an additional reason for spending their money in Rosewater, and extend the fame of the town. They had endeavored to extract the funds from their stingy lords by private subscription, failing an appeal to the City Fathers, who found other uses for the public funds; but even the civic Mr. Boutts was not ready for such an outlay. The women--who had accomplished so much, having literally transformed Rosewater from a broken-down pioneer country town into one of the prettiest spots in California--had by no means despaired; and when Mrs. Colton finished her report, Mrs. Leslie remarked:

"Our boulevard may be nearer than you think. Mr. Gwynne has conceived a project for reclaiming the marsh-lands, and converting them, by means of levees and those tremendous dredges and pumps, into arable land--like the reclaimed islands of the San Joaquin River; and has persuaded Tom Colton to present a bill to that effect at the next meeting of the legislature--asking for an appropriation for the levees, at least. He has himself promised a handsome contribution for the boulevard, convinced that it will add materially to the wealth and importance of the town. He has even talked over Mr. Boutts--an important conversion"--nodding smilingly at Mrs. Boutts--"and Isabel Otis, who has forty-five acres of marsh, has promised that if the bill goes through she will also contribute a thousand dollars. She not only realized at once that the boulevard would bring more capital to Rosewater, but she means to sow the reclaimed land with asparagus--and we all know the profit in that. Her att.i.tude and comprehension of the matter have gratified me extremely, almost as much as her continued residence in Rosewater after all her fine experiences abroad; to say nothing of engaging personally in a lucrative business instead of playing with it and leaving the actual work to dishonest help. She is an example I wish more of our young women would follow. But as regards Mr. Gwynne: I think he deserves a vote of thanks. He comes here a total stranger with an immense estate, from which he could derive a sufficient income for his pleasures, and he has already devoted a considerable amount of his time and splendid mental abilities to the welfare of this little town. A few of our older men have some public spirit, an idea or two beyond lining their pockets, but we do not boast a single young man who cares whether we have camellias or cabbages in the public squares. I feel sure that Mr. Gwynne will supply this deficiency and be a host in himself. I have talked with him several times, and he has said, in so many words, that as he intends to make this county his home he purposes to accomplish something in the way of general improvement. This means that he will, for my husband says that he not only has remarkable mind and will, but that he is a young man of incorruptible honor--and I know of no combination that we need more. So, ladies, I propose that we pa.s.s a vote of thanks to Mr. Gwynne, thus not only showing our appreciation of his interest, but securing his friendship for the Club."

Mrs. Haight rose, sallow and trembling. She felt her sails flapping about her, but none the less was she determined to reach her goal if she had to get out and swim. She knew the President well enough to control the hissing of her venom, but as she turned to address the chair she found it impossible to imbue her tones with the suavity proper in a baleful counsel for the prosecution.

"Mrs. President, Ladies!" she began, clearing her throat. "Before pa.s.sing a vote of thanks to Mr. Gwynne I think it my duty to ask you dispa.s.sionately if you really think he is a person from whom we can afford to receive favors. And above all, if Isabel Otis should be permitted any sort of contact with the Club she has scornfully refused to join. That is not the point, however. The point is that I maintain that neither of them is fit for respectable people to a.s.sociate with."

She felt that her summary was precipitate, and drawing herself up defiantly looked hard at Mrs. Leslie. The President was regarding her impa.s.sively.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because! As you force me to say it, Mr. Gwynne is out at Old Inn until all hours of the night. I have seen him riding home as late as half-past ten again and again. And I happen to know that before _that_ Lady Victoria came, they were practically alone in the house on Russian Hill one whole night. Mrs. Filkins, as you know, lives on Taylor Street, and she saw Paula Stone pa.s.s her house in the afternoon looking as mad as a hornet--she was sure she wasn't going back, and found out afterwards that she hadn't; and she saw Mr. Gwynne come down those steps at seven o'clock the next morning--going to catch the seven-thirty boat--looking as pleased with himself as Punch. But I might have stood all that for a while yet; I might have given Isabel the benefit of the doubt, since she had _asked_ Paula to chaperon her, and might have found out too late that she had gone--for she was gallivanting herself all day; I might have overlooked his staying so often till ten-thirty--although I maintain that an unmarried girl living alone on a ranch without even female help is a disgrace to any community--yes, I might have swallowed that for a while longer; but this morning--at three o'clock--I saw--_with my own eyes, ladles_--Mr. Gwynne riding home from Old Inn on Isabel Otis's sorrel horse Kaiser. Now I, for one, don't stand for such goings on. I propose that instead of pa.s.sing a vote of thanks to Mr.

Gwynne we pa.s.s a resolution to _cut_ both of them, and show them what a decent community is."

She sat down in her flounces, and Mrs. Wheaton rose and seconded the motion. The others looked rather frightened, although alert and interested, and Mrs. Colton rose hastily and proposed that before putting such a momentous question to the vote, the whole matter should be thoroughly investigated.

"We must also have the advice of our President," she added. "For my part, although I do not approve of young unmarried women living alone, still I cannot believe such dreadful things of anybody, let alone Isabel Otis. I am glad Anabel is not here. She would never listen to any insinuation against Isabel, and might be tempted to disrespect of her elders."

"And you, Mrs. Boutts?" asked the President.

"As a woman of the world I have not that implicit faith in human nature that some people are still so happy as to cherish. My daughter--who refused to come to-day, knowing the subject to be discussed--is indignant at these reports; but of course she is a mere child, and very much fascinated by Miss Otis. I do not by any means approve of the drastic methods proposed by Mrs. Haight--I should hope that California had taken _some_ of the old puritanical spirit out of us--but I do think that Miss Otis should be given to understand that she cannot import European fashions into Rosewater, and that she must have a chaperon. Let her feel that she has acted unwisely, at the very least, by not inviting her to any of the young people's gatherings in the future."

"As there are no more except for card-playing, and as she has recently been the only hostess at an evening party the town has boasted for two years, your virtuous wrath bids fair to blow past her unheeded. Mrs.

Plews, will you address us?"

Mrs. Plews was the wife of the pastor of the aristocratic Episcopalian church, a pretty fluffy young woman, who visited the sick and made excellent ice-cream for the church festivals. "Oh, I don't know!" she exclaimed, deprecatingly. "It is all too dreadful! I no longer regret that Miss Otis does not come to church. I had thought of remonstrating with her once more--but when I recalled the last time! Now, it is indeed well that she has not been a.s.sociating with our young folks. I am sorry this was not known before her party; I must really talk to Mr. Plews before I can say anything further."

"Mrs. Toffitt, I am sure that you have something to say--and an opinion of your own."

Mrs. Toffitt, a buxom highly colored woman of forty, who, since her husband's death, the year before, had continued his business--a general feed store--with striking success, and who was one of the most popular women in Rosewater, with her abounding good-nature, her high spirits, and her utter independence of speech, sprang to her feet.

"I have this to say," she cried. "For a lot of puritanical, prying, spying, detestable old hens, we take the cake. Isabel Otis minds her own business. Why, in heaven's name, can't we mind ours? Does she owe anybody anything? Has she taken anybody's beau away? Anybody's husband?

Does she walk the streets doing nothing but show herself, or go buggy riding with one fellow after another? Does she ever refuse money for charity, or for our improvements when it's asked of her? Was she a credit to the town with her record at the High School, or wasn't she?

Are we proud of her travels in Europe, her high-toned connections, her business sense, the way she acted to that old reprobate of a father, or ain't we? That's what I want to know. And she's got real intellect instead of just the average American brightness; that's the secret of the whole trouble. What if she does sit up all night talking to a man who's got something besides chickens and dollars in his head? I'd do the same if I had the chance. Just make a note of that. If Mr. Gwynne likes to transfer his attentions to me I'll sit up all night right on Minerva Haight's doorstep, and talk about any old thing he wants. If I was as young and handsome as Isabel Otis I'd keep the best man going to myself, bet your life on it! And I repeat, it's n.o.body's business." She whirled upon the pallid Minerva with a flaming face. "Nice business you're in--sitting at your window all night watching for other people's slips.

You'd make one fast enough if the Lord would let you, and that's what's the matter with you. Now, put that in your pipe and smoke it."

She sat down amid much laughter and applause. Mrs. Leslie rapped vigorously for order, although her mouth was twitching.

"Now, ladies," she said, suavely, "if you have all relieved your minds I will say a few words. First of all, I wish to state that I shall refuse to put the matter to a vote. It is a question that does not come within the jurisdiction of the Club, which was not organized to supervise morals as well as streets and sewers. You can all act towards Isabel and Mr. Gwynne exactly as your consciences dictate, but for my own part, I have this to say: I am astonished to find that the Club life, a life which women the world over have prided themselves upon as the greatest factor in broadening and elevating that their s.e.x has ever known, seems to have done, in our case at least, so little to eradicate certain Oriental instincts and traditions. The cities are full of young women living alone, and self-supporting. Why should not a girl have the same privilege in the country? Because she is handsome and distinguished? I fancy that a good many girls in a.n.a.logous circ.u.mstances are pa.s.sing unnoticed. I have not the least doubt that a very respectable percentage of very respectable young women, living alone in their city flats, sit up late and talk to men that are interesting enough to keep them awake.

I am quite sure that were I young in these emanc.i.p.ated times I should take full advantage of them. And emanc.i.p.ated is what we pretend to be--although the word itself is somewhat outmoded; a healthy sign, proving that we are no longer labelled. And if that does not mean personal liberty, freedom from the old ridiculous restrictions that were an insult to womanhood itself, what does it mean? It is a part of our mission to make woman as free and independent and happy as men, and without the slightest danger to the old high moral standards; for no woman that has had it in her to go wrong ever waited for the permission of her own s.e.x. We are, in fact, we Club Women, the great sieve that separates the wheat from the chaff; the chaff has no more use for us than we have for it, and we are too wise in our own s.e.x to waste any time on it. The women that were born to be the playthings of men are in a cla.s.s apart--to be dealt with, to be sure, by Societies organized for and experienced in that purpose; and we have not even considered them in the stupendous effort we have made to secure the freedom of the higher order of women from the old miserable social thralldoms. And what we have accomplished is historic.

"I have seen extraordinary changes in my time. When I was young a woman was an old maid at twenty-five. There was no appeal. To-day there are no old maids. Twenty years ago, in that old exclusive set of San Francisco led by Mrs. Yorba, Mrs. Montgomery, and for a little while by poor Mary Belmont, it was almost unheard of for a girl of the better cla.s.s to walk alone on the street. If a man joined her the city fermented. Now, what with the influx of all these new people, the social laws have been modified to such an extent that my old friends must turn in their graves; although, of course, and very properly, a certain amount of chaperonage for young society girls is still demanded. But it is a mere harness of flowers, worn as a sort of a joke for most of the people in society to-day have flown upward on happy golden wings from strata where as much was known of chaperons as the American newspapers know about handling British t.i.tles. But, for my part, I find the whole change a vast improvement. Nothing could be duller than a girl's life in my time. And if society--the world of mere fashion--has broadened, how much more should be expected of us, who are the vanguard of our s.e.x? who have set out to free women from every sort of senseless bondage they had endured for centuries, and no more from the tyranny of the physically stronger s.e.x than through their own silliness and cowardice.

"We are struggling to enfranchise our s.e.x. We would like to try our hand at regulating the affairs of the nation. Here, in these smaller towns, all over the country, we have proved a far greater power for improvements of all sorts than men. Rosewater owes to us, and to us alone, its beautifully paved and shaded streets--we have no difficulty in remembering what a barren mud-hole it was--the trees that shade the poor horses at the hitching-rails; the beautiful squares, the tropical plants and trees, the improved sewerage system, the cleanliness of the marsh border, everything in fact that has transformed Rosewater from a mere set of roofs and walls into a delightfully habitable town.

Moreover, we have raised both the moral and the intellectual tone, for although I at least have always discouraged too much interest in people's private affairs, the higher interests, and the increased intimacy among women, have done much to keep them out of mischief. Until this card fever descended upon the town, it was generally regarded as occupying a high place among communities of its size. Cards, however, I regard as a pa.s.sing madness; it merely means that even yet we have not enough to do.

"And--so it seems!--in spite of all that we have accomplished, in spite of our long and ofttimes disheartening struggle to lift ourselves above the average female woman, we are as ready to tear reputations to pieces as ever, to judge by mere appearances, to discount general character and behavior, to forget our ideals and give unlicensed rein to the mean and detestable qualities we still cherish in common with the ma.s.s of unenlightened women. I do not a.s.sert that I have never heard gossip from men; but it has always been from the men that spend their lives in Club windows, never from men that had some better way of filling their time.

From my husband I have never heard a scurrilous word of any one, and he has a temper of his own, too. Now, so far as I can make out, we have not only been trying to usurp the time-honored prerogatives of men, but to attain their highest standards. While I deprecate violence of statement, I am inclined to agree with Mrs. Toffitt that a woman belonging to this Club, a Club which stands high in the Club life of the State, should have something better to do than to spend the night at her window spying on her neighbors. If she cannot sleep she can improve her mind or sew for the poor. If a man engaged in such nefarious night work and brazenly admitted it, I will venture to say that his Club, or his Lodge, at all events, would ask for his resignation. It would be quite in order with our avowed principles that we reprimanded Mrs. Haight instead of Miss Otis, but we will let the matter pa.s.s this time with a mere hint. One point is, by-the-way, that the latter not being a member of the Club it would be the height of impertinence to take her to task. But in any case I personally refuse even to consider the question of anything being otherwise with her than it should be. There is, no doubt, some wholly commonplace explanation of Mr. Gwynne's pa.s.sing through Rosewater on her horse this morning. As for their constant companionship, what more natural? They are closely related, and she has been a very necessary sister to him. Nevertheless, I shall make it my unpleasant business to tell her that we are still the same old females, still incapable of conceiving of aught but one relationship between unmarried members of opposite s.e.xes, that our imaginations and our positive knowledge of life are alike undeveloped. Then she can take a chaperon or not as she pleases. She will always be welcome in my house; and as for my daughter, she will only laugh at this tempest of her elders in a tea-pot. That is all I have to say."

She finished amid much applause, some shamefaced, some hearty, but there were a number of lowering brows. When adjournment was declared a few moments later, she left at once, but the others remained to talk the matter over. The ingrained love of finding our sister worse than ourselves is not to be eradicated by a few years of Club life, and although the majority decided that Mrs. Leslie was quite in the right, several announced their intention to cut Isabel Otis. There was no informal resolution taken to ignore the matter, and, on the whole, Mrs.

Haight went home with her crest up, and Mrs. Wheaton fasted for three days.

XXIX

Mrs. Leslie was a brave woman, but when the judge suggested that it would be better for him to talk the matter over with Gwynne, obtain his explanation, and delicately hint the att.i.tude of the town, she was nothing loath to renounce her mission. "The dear child," the friends of her mother all remembered, had once possessed a temper that only the peculiar circ.u.mstances of her life had chastened, and they had an uneasy suspicion that it still smouldered beneath the well-bred insolence with which she had so far received much friendly advice.