"You mean that your friend does not consider her a lady? She isn't a society lady, but I did not suppose an American girl would be refused a position as a teacher for such a reason as that."

"A lady is a lady, whether she is what you term a society lady or not.

Mrs. Grainger told us that Miss Bailey's appearance and manners did not suggest the womanly refinement which we deem indispensable in those who are to teach our college students. Five years ago only scholarship and cleverness were demanded, but experience has taught the educators of women that this was a mistake."

"I presume," said Selma, with dramatic scorn, "that Mrs. Hallett Taylor disapproved of her. I thought there would be some such outcome when I heard that she was to be consulted."

"Mrs. Taylor's name was not mentioned," answered Pauline, in astonishment. "I had no idea, Selma, that you regarded this as a personal matter. You told me that you had seen Miss Bailey but once."

"I am interested in her because--because I do not like to see a cruel wrong done. You do not understand her. You allow a prejudice, a cla.s.s-prejudice, to interfere with her career and the opportunity to display her abilities. You should have trusted Mrs. Earle, Pauline, She is my friend, and she recommended Miss Bailey because she believed in her. It is a reflection on me and my friends to intimate that she is not a lady."

She bent forward from the sofa with her hands clasped and her lips tightly compressed. For a moment she gazed angrily at the bewildered Pauline, then, as though she had suddenly bethought her of her New York manner, she drew herself up and said with a forced laugh--"If the reason you give were not so ridiculous, I should be seriously offended."

"Offended! Offended with Pauline," exclaimed Littleton, who entered the room at the moment. "It cannot be that my two guardian angels have had a falling out." He looked from one to the other brightly as if it were really a joke.

"It is nothing," said Selma.

"It seems," said Pauline with fervor, "that I have unintentionally hurt Selma's feelings. It is the last thing in the world I wish to do, and I trust that when she thinks the matter over she will realize that I am innocent. I am very, very sorry."

CHAPTER VI.

"Why don't you follow the advice of Mr. Williams and buy some shares of stock?" asked Selma lightly, yet coaxingly, of her husband one day in the third year of their marriage. The Williamses were dining with them at the time, and a statement by Gregory, not altogether without motive, as to the profits made by several people who had taken his advice, called forth the question. He and his wife were amiably inclined toward the Littletons, and were proud of the acquaintance. Among their other friends they boasted of the delightful excursions into the literary circle which the intimacy afforded them. They both would have been pleased to see their neighbors more amply provided with money, and Gregory, partly at the instance of Flossy, partly from sheer good-humor in order to give a deserving but impractical fellow a chance to better himself, threw out tips from time to time--crumbs from the rich man's table, but bestowed in a friendly spirit. Whenever they were let fall, Selma would look at Wilbur hoping for a sign of interest, but hitherto they had evoked merely a smile of refusal or had been utterly ignored.

Her own question had been put on several occasions, both in the company of the tempter and in the privacy of the domestic hearth, and both in the gayly suggestive and the pensively argumentative key. Why might they not, by means of a clever purchase in the stock market, occasionally procure some of the agreeable extra pleasures of life--provide the ready money for theatres, a larger wardrobe, trips from home, or a modest equipage? Why not take advantage of the friendly advice given? Mr.

Williams had made clear that the purchase of stocks on a sufficient margin was no more reprehensible as a moral proposition than the purchase of cargoes of sugar, cotton, coffee or tea against which merchants borrowed money at the bank. In neither instance did the purchaser own outright what he sought to sell at an advance; merely in one case it was shares, in the other merchandise. Of course it was foolish for inexperienced country folk with small means to dabble in stocks and bonds, but why should not city people who were clever and had clever friends in the business eke out the cost of living by shrewd investments? In an old-fashioned sense it might be considered gambling; but, if it were true, as Wilbur and Mr. Williams both maintained, that the American people were addicted to speculation, was not the existence of the habit strong evidence that the prejudice against it must be ill-founded? The logical and the patriotic conclusion must needs be that business methods had changed, and that the American nation had been clever enough to subst.i.tute dealings in shares of stock, and in contracts relating to cereals and merchandise for the methods of their grandfathers who delivered the properties in bulk.

To this condensation of Gregory's glib sophistries on the lips of his wife, Wilbur had seemed to turn a deaf ear. It did not occur to him, at first, that Selma was seriously in earnest. He regarded her suggestions of neglected opportunities, which were often whimsically uttered, as more than half playful--a sort of make-believe envy of the meteoric progress in magnificence of their friendly neighbors. He was even glad that she should show herself appreciative of the merits of civilized comfort, for he had been afraid lest her ascetic scruples would lead her judgments too far in the opposite direction. He welcomed them and encouraged her small schemes to make the establishment more festive and stylish in appearance, in modest imitation of the splendor next door.

But constant and more sombre reference to the growing fortunes of the Williamses presently attracted his attention and made him more observant. His income sufficed to pay the ordinary expenses of quiet domestic life, and to leave a small margin for carefully, considered amus.e.m.e.nts, but he reflected that if Selma were yearning for greater luxury, he could not afford at present to increase materially her allowance. It grieved him as a proud man to think that the woman he loved should lack any thing she desired, and without a thought of distrust he applied himself more strenuously to his work, hoping that the sum of his commissions would enable him presently to gratify some of her hankerings--such, for instance, as the possession of a horse and vehicle. Selma had several times alluded with a sigh to the satisfaction there must be in driving in the new park. Babc.o.c.k had kept a horse, and the Williamses now drove past the windows daily in a phaeton drawn by two iron gray, champing steeds. He said to himself that he could scarcely blame Selma if she coveted now and then Flossy's fine possessions, and the thought that she was not altogether happy in consequence of his failure to earn more kept recurring to his mind and worried him. No children had been born to them, and he pictured with growing concern his wife lonely at home on this account, yet without extra income to make purchases which might enable her to forget at times that there was no baby in the house. Flossy had two children, a boy and a girl, two gorgeously bedizened little beings who were trundled along the sidewalk in a black, highly varnished baby-wagon which was reputed by the dealer who sold it to Gregory to have belonged to an English n.o.bleman. Wilbur more than once detected Selma looking at the babies with a wistful glance. She was really admiring their clothes, yet the thought of how prettily she would have been able to dress a baby of her own was at times so pathetic as to bring tears to her eyes, and cause her to deplore her own lack of children as a misfortune.

As the weeks slipped away and Wilbur realized that, though he was gaining ground in his profession, more liberal expenditures were still out of the question, he reached a frame of mind which made him yearn for a means of relief. So it happened that, when Selma asked him once more why he did not follow the advice proffered and buy some stocks, he replied by smiling at Gregory and inquiring what he should buy. During the dinner, which had been pleasant, Wilbur's eye had been attracted by the brilliancy of some new jewels which Mrs. Williams wore, and he had been conscious of the wish that he were able to make a present like that to his own wife.

"You take my breath away. Wonders will never cease," responded Gregory, while both the women clapped their hands. "But you musn't buy anything; you must sell," he continued. "VanHorne and I both came to the conclusion to-day that it is time for a turn on the short side of the market. When the public are crazy and will buy any thing, then is the time to let them have all they wish."

"What, then, am I to sell?" asked Wilbur "I am a complete lamb, you know." He was already sorry that he had consented, but Selma's manifest interest restrained him from turning the matter into a joke.

"Leave it all to me," said Williams with a magnificent gesture.

"But you will need some money from me."

"Not at all. If you would feel better, you may send me a check or a bond for a thousand dollars. But it isn't necessary in your case."

"I will bring you in a bond to-morrow--one of the very few I own."

Wilbur having delivered his security the first thing in the morning, heard nothing further from Williams for a fortnight. One day he received a formal account of certain transactions executed by Williams and VanHorne for Wilbur Littleton, Esq., and a check for two thousand dollars. The flush which rose to his cheeks was induced partly by pleasure, partly by shame. His inclination, as he reflected, was to return the check, but he recognized presently that this was a foolish idea, and that the only thing to be done was to deposit it. He wrote a grateful note of acknowledgment to Williams, and then gave himself up to the agreeable occupation of thinking what he should buy for Selma with the money. He decided not to tell her of his good fortune, but to treat her to a surprise. His first fancy was in favor of jewelry--some necklace or l.u.s.trous ornament for the hair, which would charm the feminine eye and might make Selma even more beautiful than she already appeared in evening dress. His choice settled on a horse and buggy as more genuinely useful. To be sure there was the feed of the animal to be considered; but he would be able to reserve sufficient money to cover this cost for some months, and by the end of that time he would perhaps be able to afford the outlay from his income. Horse-flesh and vehicles were not in his line, but he succeeded by investigation in procuring a modest equipment for seven hundred dollars, which left him three hundred for fodder, and the other thousand. This he had decided to hand over to Selma as pin money. It was for her sake that he had consented to speculate, and it seemed meet that she should have the satisfaction of spending it.

He carried out his surprise by appearing one afternoon before the door and inviting her to drive. Selma became radiant at the news that the horse and buggy were hers, though, when the particulars of the purchase were disclosed she said to herself that she wished Wilbur had allowed her to choose the vehicle. She would have preferred one more stylish and less domestic looking. She flung her arms about his neck and gave him a kiss on their return to show her satisfaction.

"You see how easy it is, Wilbur," she said as she surveyed the check which he had handed her.

"It was not I, it was Williams."

"No, but you could, if you would only think so. I have the greatest confidence in you, dear," she added, looking eagerly into his face; "but don't you sometimes go out of your way to avoid what is enterprising and--er--modern, just because it is modern?"

"Gambling is as old as the hills, Selma."

"Yes. And if this were gambling--the sort of gambling you mean, do you think I would allow you to do it? Do you think the American people would tolerate it for a minute?" she asked triumphantly.

"It seems to me that your admiration for the American people sometimes makes you a little weak in your logic," he answered with good-humor. He was so pleased by Selma's gratification that he was disposed to exorcise his scruples.

"I have always told you that I was more of a patriot than you, Wilbur."

The bond had not been returned by Williams at the time he sent the money, and some fortnight later--only a few days in fact after this drive, Littleton received another cheque for $500 and a request that he call at the office.

"I thought you would like to see the instruments of torture at work--the process of lamb-shearing in active operation," Williams explained as he shook hands and waved him into his private room. After a few easy remarks on the methods of doing business the broker continued, "I flatter myself that for so small an investment and so short a time, I have done tolerably well for you."

"I scarcely know how to express my thanks and my admiration for your skill. Indeed I feel rather awkwardly about--"

"That's all right, my dear fellow. It's my business; I get my commission. Still I admit friendly regard--and this is why I suggested your dropping in--by introducing the personal equation, makes one nervous. If instead of closing out your account, I had in each instance held on, you would have made more money. I was glad to take this responsibility at first because you were a neophyte at the business, but I think it will be more satisfactory both for you and for me that in future transactions you should give me the word when to reap the profit.

Of course you shall have all the information which I possess and my advice will be at your command, but where a man's money is concerned his own head is apt to be the wisest counsellor. Now I took the liberty yesterday of selling for you two hundred shares of Reading railroad. You can cover to-day at a profit of one point--about $200. I do not urge it.

On the contrary I believe that the market, barring occasional rallies, is still on the downward track. I wish, however, to put you in a position where you can, if you desire, take advantage of the full opportunities of the financial situation and save myself from feeling that I have robbed you by my friendly caution."

"In other words you don't wish to speculate with my money," said Littleton. "You wish me to paddle my own canoe."

Williams' real desire was to escape the bother of personally superintending an insignificant account. His circ.u.mlocution was a suave way of stating that he had done all that could be expected of a neighbor and benevolent friend, and that the ordinary relation of broker and customer ought now be established. As for Littleton, he perceived that he was not free to retire from the market on the profits of friendly regard unless he was prepared to fly in the face of advice and buy in his two hundred Reading railroad. To do so would be pusillanimous; moreover to retire and abstain from further dealings would make Williams' two cheques more obviously a charitable donation, and the thought of them was becoming galling. Above all there were Selma's feelings to be considered. The possession of the means to afford her happiness was already a sweet argument in favor of further experiments.

And so it happened that during the next nine months Littleton became a frequenter of the office of Williams & VanHorne. He was not among those who hung over the tape and were to be seen there daily; but he found himself attracted as the needle by the magnet to look in once or twice a week to ascertain the state of the market. His ventures continued to be small, and were conducted under the ken of Williams, and though the occasional rallies referred to by the broker hara.s.sed Wilbur's spirit when they occurred, the policy of selling short proved reasonably remunerative in the course of half a dozen separate speculations. In round figures he added another $2,500 to that which Williams had made for him. The process kept him on pins and needles, and led him to scan the list of stock quotations before reading anything else in the newspaper. Selma was delighted at his success, and though he chose not to tell her the details of his dealings, she watched him furtively, followed the general tendency of the market, and when she perceived that he was in good spirits, satisfied sufficiently her curiosity by questions.

On the strength of this addition to their pecuniary resources, Selma branched out into sundry mild extravagances. She augmented her wardrobe, engaged an additional house-maid and a more expensive cook, and entertained with greater freedom and elaboration. She was fond of going to the theatre and supping afterward at some fashionable restaurant where she could show her new plumage and be a part of the gay, chattering rout at the tables consuming soft-sh.e.l.led crabs and champagne. She was gradually increasing her acquaintance, chiefly among the friends of the Williamses, people who were fond of display and luxury and who seemed to have plenty of money. In this connection she was glad to avail herself of the reputation of belonging to the literary circle, and she conceived the plan of mingling these new a.s.sociates with Wilbur's former set--to her thinking a delightful scheme, which she inaugurated by means of a dinner party. She included among the guests Pauline and Dr. Page, and considered that she had acted gracefully in putting them side by side at table, thus sacrificing the theory of her entertainment to her feminine interest in romance. In her opinion it was more than Pauline deserved, and she was proud of her generosity. There were fourteen in the company, and after dinner they were regaled by a young woman who had brought a letter of introduction to Selma from Mrs.

Earle, who read from her own poems. The dinner was given for her, and her seat was between Wilbur and Mr. Dennison, the magazine editor. Selma had attended a dinner-party at the Williamses a fortnight earlier where there had been music in the drawing-room by a ballad-singer at a cost of $100 (so Flossy had told her in confidence). A poetess reading from her own works, a guest and not invited in after dinner on a business footing, appealed to Selma as more American, and less expensive. She, in her secret soul, would have liked to recite herself, but she feared to run the gauntlet of the New York manner. The verses were intense in character and were delivered by the young woman with a hollow-eyed fervor which, as one of the non-literary wing of the company stated, made one creep and weep alternately. There was no doubt that the entertainment was novel and acceptable to the commercial element, and to Selma it seemed a delightful reminder of the Benham Inst.i.tute. She was curious to know what Mr. Dennison thought, though she said to herself that she did not really care. She felt that anything free and earnest in the literary line was likely to be frowned on by the coterie to which her husband's people belonged. Nevertheless she seized an opportunity to ask the editor if he did not think the verses remarkable.

"They are certainly remarkable," answered Mr. Dennison. After a brief pause he added, "Being a strictly truthful person, Mrs. Littleton, I do not wish to seek shelter behind the rampart which your word 'remarkable'

affords. A dinner may be remarkable--remarkably good, like the one I have just eaten, or remarkably bad. Some editors would have replied to you as I have done, and yet been capable of a mental reservation unflattering to the ambitious young woman to whom we have been listening. But without wishing to express an opinion, let me remind you that poetry, like point-lace, needs close scrutiny before its merits can be defined. I thought I recognized some ancient and well-worn flowers of speech, but my editorial ear and eye may have been deceived. She has beautiful hair at all events."

"'Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare; And beauty draws us by a single hair.'

"You cynical personage! I only hope she may prove a genius and that you will realize when too late that you might have discovered her," said Selma, looking into his face brightly with a knowing smile and tapping her fan against her hand. She was in a gay humor at the success of the entertainment, despite the non-committal att.i.tude of this censor, and pleased at the appositeness of her quotation. Her figure had filled out since her marriage. She was almost plump and she wore a single short fat curl pendent behind her ear.

A few months subsequent to this dinner party Flossy announced one day that Mr. Silas S. Parsons, whom Selma had seen with the Williamses at the theatre nearly three years before, had come to live in New York with his wife and daughter. Flossy referred to him eagerly as one of her husband's most valuable customers, a shrewd, sensible, Western business man, who had made money in patent machinery and was superbly rich. He had gone temporarily to a hotel, but he was intending to build a large house on Fifth Avenue near the park. Selma heard this announcement with keen interest, asking herself at once why Wilbur should not be the architect. Why not, indeed? She promptly reasoned that here was her chance to aid her husband; that he, if left to his own devices, would do nothing to attract the magnate's attention, and that it behooved her, as an American wife and a wide-awake, modern woman, to let Mr. Parsons know his qualifications, and to prepossess him in Wilbur's favor by her own attractions. The idea appealed to her exceedingly. She had been hoping that some opportunity to take an active part in the furtherance of Wilbur's career would present itself, for she felt instinctively that with her co-operation he would make more rapid progress. Here was exactly the occasion longed for. She saw in her mind's eye Mr. Parsons's completed mansion, stately and beautiful, the admired precursor of a host of important edifices--a revolutionizing monument in contemporary architecture. Wilbur would become the fashion, and his professional success be a.s.sured, thanks to the prompt ability of his wife to take advantage of circ.u.mstances. So she would prove herself a veritable helpmate, and the bond of marital sympathy would be strengthened and refreshed.

To begin with, Selma hinted to Mrs. Williams that Mr. Parsons might do worse than employ Wilbur to design his house. Flossy accepted the suggestion with enthusiasm and promised her support, adding that Mr.

Parsons was a person of sudden and strong fancies, and that if he were to take a fancy to Wilbur, the desired result would be apt to follow.

Selma quickly decided that Mr. Parsons must be made to like her, for she feared lest Wilbur's quiet, undemonstrative manner would fail to attract him. Evidently he admired the self-confidence and manly a.s.sertion of Gregory Williams, and would be liable to regard Wilbur as lacking in force and enterprise. The reflection that she would thus be working--as necessarily she would--for the eternal progress of truth, added a pleasant savor to the undertaking, for it was clear that her husband was an ideal architect for the purpose, and she would be doing a true service to Mr. Parsons in convincing him that this was so. Altogether her soul was in an agreeable flutter, notwithstanding that her neighbor Flossy had recently received invitations to two or three large b.a.l.l.s, and been referred to in the society columns of the newspapers as the fascinating and clever wife of the rising banker Gregory Williams.

The Littletons were promptly given by Flossy the opportunity to make the acquaintance of the Parsons family. Mr. Parsons was a ponderous man of over sixty, with a solid, rotund, grave face and a chin whisker. He was absorbed in financial interests, though he had retired from active business, and had come to New York to live chiefly to please his wife and daughter. Mrs. Parsons, who was somewhat her husband's junior, was a devotee, or more correctly, a debauchee, of hotel life. Since the time when they had become exceedingly rich, about ten years before, they had made a grand tour of the hotels of this country and Europe. By so doing Mrs. Parsons and her daughter felt that they became a part of the social life of the cities which they visited. Although they had been used to plain, if not slovenly, house-keeping before the money came, both the wife and daughter had evolved into connoisseurs of modish and luxurious hotel apparatus and garniture. They had learned to revel in many courses, radiantly upholstered parlors, and a close acquaintance with the hotel register. Society for them, wherever they went, meant finding out the names of the other guests and dressing for them, being on easy terms with the head waiter and elevator boy, visiting the theatres, and keeping up a round of shopping in pursuit of articles of apparel. They wore rich garments and considerable jewelry, and plastered themselves--especially the daughter--with bunches of violets or roses self-bestowed. Mrs. Parsons was partial to perfume, and they both were addicted to the free consumption of a.s.sorted bonbons. To be sure they had made some acquaintances in the course of their peregrinations, but one reason for moving to New York was that Mrs. Parsons had come to the melancholy conclusion that neither the princes of Europe nor the sons of American leading citizens were paying that attention to her daughter which the young lady's charms seemed to her to merit. If living lavishly in hotels and seeing everybody right and left were not the high-road to elegant existence and hence to a brilliant match for Lucretia, Mrs.

Parsons was ready to try the effect of a house on Fifth Avenue, though she preferred the comforts of her present mode of life. Still one advantage of a stable home would be that Mr. Parsons could be constantly with them, instead of an occasional and intermittent visitor communicated with more frequently by electricity than by word of mouth.

While Mr. Parsons was selecting the land, she and Lucretia had abandoned themselves to an orgy of shopping, and with an eye to the new house, their rooms at the hotel were already littered with gorgeous fabrics, patterns of wall-paper and pieces of pottery.