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During the following week all Menlo, which had moved down before Mrs.Yorba, called on that august leader. She received every afternoon on theverandah, clad in black or grey lawn, stiff, silent, but sufficientlygracious. On the day after her arrival, as the first visitor's carriageappeared at the bend of the avenue, its advent heralded by the furiousbarking of two mastiffs, a bloodhound, and an English carriage dog,Magdalena gathered up her books and prepared to retreat, but her motherturned to her peremptorily.
"I wish you to stay," she said. "You must begin now to see something ofsociety. Otherwise you will have no ease when you come out. And try totalk. Young people must talk."
"But I can't talk," faltered Magdalena.
"You must learn. Say anything, and in time it will be easy."
Magdalena realised that her mother was right. If she was to overcome hernatural lack of facile speech, she could not begin too soon. Althoughshe was terrified at the prospect of talking to these people who hadalighted and were exchanging platitudes with her mother, she resolvedanew that the time should come when she should be as ready of tongue andas graceful of speech as her position and her pride demanded.
She sat down by one of the guests and stammered out something about theviolets. The young woman she addressed was of delicate and excessivebeauty: her brunette face, under a hat covered with corn-colouredplumes, was almost faultless in its outline. She wore an elaborate anddainty French gown the shade of her feathers, and her small hands andfeet were dressed to perfection. Magdalena had heard of the beautifulMrs. Washington, and felt it a privilege to sun herself in suchloveliness. The three elderly ladies she had brought with her--Mrs.Cartright, Mrs. Geary, and Mrs. Brannan--were dressed with extremesimplicity.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Washington, "they are lovely,--they are, for a fact.Mine have chilblains or something this year, and won't bloom for a cent.Hang the luck! I'm as cross as a bear with a sore head about it."
"Would you like me to pick some of ours for you?" asked Magdalena,wondering if she had better model her verbal accomplishments on Mrs.Washington's. She thought them even more picturesque than Helena's.
"Do; that's a jolly good fellow."
When Magdalena returned with the violets, they were received with abewitching but absent smile; another carriage-load had arrived, and allwere discussing the advent of a "Bonanza" family, whose huge fortune,made out of the Nevada mines, had recently lifted it from obscurity tosocial fame.
"It's just too hateful that I've got to call," said Mrs. Washington, inher refined melodious voice. "Teddy says that I must, because sooner orlater we've all got to know them,--old Dillon's a red Indian chief inthe financial world; and there's no use kicking against money, anyhow.But I can't cotton to that sort of people, and I just cried last nightwhen Teddy--the old darling! I'd do anything to please him--told me Imust call."
"It's a great pity we old families can't keep together," said Mrs.Brannan, a stout high-nosed dame. "There are plenty of others for themto know. Why can't they let us alone?"
"That's just what they won't do," cried Mrs. Washington. "We're whatthey're after. What's the reason they've come to Menlo Park? They'll be'landed aristocracy' in less than no time. Hang the luck!"
"Shall you call, Hannah?" asked Mrs. Cartright. "Dear Jack never imposesany restrictions on me,--he's so handsome about everything; so I shallbe guided by you."
"In time," replied Mrs. Yorba, who also had had a meaning conferencewith her husband. "But I shall not rush. Toward the end of the summer,perhaps. It would be unwise to take them up too quickly."
"I've got to give them a dinner," said Mrs. Washington, with gloom. "ButI'll put it off till the last gun fires. And you've all got to come.Otherwise you'll see me on the war-path."
"Of course we shall all go, Nelly," said Mrs. Yorba. "We will alwaysstand in together."
The conversation flowed on. Other personalities were discussed, thedifficulty of getting servants to stay in the country, where there wassuch a dearth of "me gentleman frien'," the appearance of the variousgardens, and the atrocious amount of water they consumed.
"I wish to goodness the water-works on top wouldn't shut off for eightmonths in the year," exclaimed Mrs. Washington. "Whenever I wantsomething in summer that costs a pile, Teddy groans and tells me thathis water bill is four hundred dollars a month." And Mrs. Washington,whose elderly and doting husband had never refused to grant her mostexorbitant whim, sighed profoundly.
Magdalena did not find the conversation very interesting, nor was shecalled upon to contribute to it. Nevertheless, she received every daywith her mother and went with her to return the calls. At the end of thesummer she loathed the small talk and its art, but felt that she wasimproving. Her manner was certainly easier. She had decided not toemulate Mrs. Washington's vernacular, but she attempted to copy her easeand graciousness of manner. In time she learned to unbend a little, toacquire a certain gentle dignity in place of her natural haughtystiffness, and to utter the phrases that are necessary to keepconversation going; but her reticence never left her for a moment, hereyes looked beyond the people in whom she strove to be interested, andfew noticed or cared whether or not she was present. But at the end ofthe summer she was full of hope; society might not interest her, but thepride which was her chief characteristic commanded that she should holda triumphant place among her peers.
She had told neither of her parents of the books Colonel Belmont hadgiven her, knowing that the result would be a violent scene and aninterdiction. At this stage of her development she had no defined ideasof right and wrong. Upon such occasions as she had followed the dictatesof her conscience, the consequences had been extremely unpleasant, andin one instance hideous. She was indolent and secretive by nature, andshe slipped along comfortably and did not bother her head with problems.