mind, if you don't wish to. I thought..." He had half turned
to go, but was so drawn by her that he could scarcely tear himself
away before she repeated: "Oh, do come, get in, Mr. Griffiths.
I'll be so glad if you will. It won t take David a moment to take
you wherever you are going, I'm sure. And I am sorry about the
other, really I am. I didn't mean, you know, that just because you
weren't Gilbert Griffiths--"
He paused and in a bewildered manner stepped forward and entering
the car, slipped into the seat beside her. And she, interested by
his personality, at once began to look at him, feeling glad that it
was he now instead of Gilbert. In order the better to see and
again reveal her devastating charms, as she saw them, to Clyde, she
now switched on the roof light. And the chauffeur returning, she
asked Clyde where he wished to go--an address which he gave
reluctantly enough, since it was so different from the street in
which she resided. As the car sped on, he was animated by a
feverish desire to make some use of this brief occasion which might
cause her to think favorably of him--perhaps, who knows--lead to
some faint desire on her part to contact him again at some time or
other. He was so truly eager to be of her world.
"It's certainly nice of you to take me up this way," he now turned
to her and observed, smiling. "I didn't think it was my cousin you
meant or I wouldn't have come up as I did."
"Oh, that's all right. Don't mention it," replied Sondra archly
with a kind of sticky sweetness in her voice. Her original
impression of him as she now felt, had been by no means so vivid.
"It's my mistake, not yours. But I'm glad I made it now, anyhow,"
she added most definitely and with an engaging smile. "I think I'd
rather pick you up than I would Gil, anyhow. We don't get along
any too well, he and I. We quarrel a lot whenever we do meet
anywhere." She smiled, having completely recovered from her
momentary embarrassment, and now leaned back after the best
princess fashion, her glance examining Clyde's very regular
features with interest. He had such soft smiling eyes she thought.
And after all, as she now reasoned, he was Bella's and Gilbert's
cousin, and looked prosperous.
"Well, that's too bad," he said stiffly, and with a very awkward
and weak attempt at being self-confident and even high-spirited in
her presence.
"Oh, it doesn't amount to anything, really. We just quarrel,
that's all, once in a while."
She saw that he was nervous and bashful and decidedly unresourceful
in her presence and it pleased her to think that she could thus
befuddle and embarrass him so much. "Are you still working for
your uncle?"
"Oh, yes," replied Clyde quickly, as though it would make an
enormous difference to her if he were not. "I have charge of a
department over there now."
"Oh, really, I didn't know. I haven't seen you at all, since that
one time, you know. You don't get time to go about much, I
suppose." She looked at him wisely, as much as to say, "Your
relatives aren't so very much interested in you, but really liking
him now, she said instead, "You have been in the city all summer, I
suppose?"
"Oh, yes," replied Clyde quite simply and winningly. "I have to
be, you know. It's the work that keeps me here. But I've seen
your name in the papers often, and read about your riding and
tennis contests and I saw you in that flower parade last June, too.
I certainly thought you looked beautiful, like an angel almost."
There was an admiring, pleading light in his eyes which now quite
charmed her. What a pleasing young man--so different to Gilbert.
And to think he should be so plainly and hopelessly smitten, and
when she could take no more than a passing interest in him. It
made her feel sorry, a little, and hence kindly toward him.
Besides what would Gilbert think if only he knew that his cousin
was so completely reduced by her--how angry he would be--he, who so
plainly thought her a snip? It would serve him just right if Clyde
were taken up by some one and made more of than he (Gilbert) ever
could hope to be. The thought had a most pleasing tang for her.
However, at this point, unfortunately, the car turned in before
Mrs. Peyton's door and stopped. The adventure for Clyde and for
her was seemingly over.
"That's awfully nice of you to say that. I won't forget that."
She smiled archly as, the chauffeur opening the door, Clyde stepped
down, his own nerves taut because of the grandeur and import of
this encounter. "So this is where you live. Do you expect to be
in Lycurgus all winter?"
"Oh, yes. I'm quite sure of it. I hope to be anyhow," he added,
quite yearningly, his eyes expressing his meaning completely.
"Well, perhaps, then I'll see you again somewhere, some time. I
hope so, anyhow."
She nodded and gave him her fingers and the most fetching and
wreathy of smiles, and he, eager to the point of folly, added:
"Oh, so do I."
"Good night! Good night!" she called as the car sprang away, and
Clyde, looking after it, wondered if he would ever see her again so
closely and intimately as here. To think that he should have met
her again in this way! And she had proved so very different from
that first time when, as he distinctly recalled, she took no
interest in him at all.
He turned hopefully and a little wistfully toward his own door.
And Sondra,... why was it, she pondered, as the motor car sped
on its way, that the Griffiths were apparently not much interested
in him?
Chapter 24
The effect of this so casual contact was really disrupting in
more senses than one. For now in spite of his comfort in and
satisfaction with Roberta, once more and in this positive and to
him entrancing way, was posed the whole question of his social
possibilities here. And that strangely enough by the one girl of
this upper level who had most materialized and magnified for him
the meaning of that upper level itself. The beautiful Sondra
Finchley! Her lovely face, smart clothes, gay and superior
demeanor! If only at the time he had first encountered her he had
managed to interest her. Or could now.
The fact that his relations with Roberta were what they were now
was not of sufficient import or weight to offset the temperamental
or imaginative pull of such a girl as Sondra and all that she
represented. Just to think the Wimblinger Finchley Electric
Sweeper Company was one of the largest manufacturing concerns here.
Its tall walls and stacks made a part of the striking sky line
across the Mohawk. And the Finchley residence in Wykeagy Avenue,
near that of the Griffiths, was one of the most impressive among
that distinguished row of houses which had come with the latest and
most discriminating architectural taste here--Italian Renaissance--
cream hued marble and Dutchess County sandstone combined. And the
Finchleys were among the most discussed of families here.
Ah, to know this perfect girl more intimately! To be looked upon
by her with favor,--made, by reason of that favor, a part of that
fine world to which she belonged. Was he not a Griffiths--as good
looking as Gilbert Griffiths any day? And as attractive if he only
had as much money--or a part of it even. To be able to dress in
the Gilbert Griffiths' fashion; to ride around in one of the
handsome cars he sported! Then, you bet, a girl like this would be
delighted to notice him,--mayhap, who knows, even fall in love with
him. Analschar and the tray of glasses. But now, as he gloomily
thought, he could only hope, hope, hope.
The devil! He would not go around to Roberta's this evening. He
would trump up some excuse--tell her in the morning that he had
been called upon by his uncle or cousin to do some work. He could
not and would not go, feeling as he did just now.
So much for the effect of wealth, beauty, the peculiar social state
to which he most aspired, on a temperament that was as fluid and
unstable as water.
On the other hand, later, thinking over her contact with Clyde,
Sondra was definitely taken with what may only be described as his
charm for her, all the more definite in this case since it
represented a direct opposite to all that his cousin offered by way
of offense. His clothes and his manner, as well as a remark he had
dropped, to the effect that he was connected with the company in
some official capacity, seemed to indicate that he might be better
placed than she had imagined. Yet she also recalled that although
she had been about with Bella all summer and had encountered
Gilbert, Myra and their parents from time to time, there had never
been a word about Clyde. Indeed all the information she had
gathered concerning him was that originally furnished by Mrs.
Griffiths, who had said that he was a poor nephew whom her husband
had brought on from the west in order to help in some way. Yet
now, as she viewed Clyde on this occasion, he did not seem so
utterly unimportant or poverty-stricken by any means--quite
interesting and rather smart and very attractive, and obviously
anxious to be taken seriously by a girl like herself, as she could
see. And this coming from Gilbert's cousin--a Griffiths--was
flattering.
Arriving at the Trumbull's, a family which centered about one
Douglas Trumbull, a prosperous lawyer and widower and speculator of
this region, who, by reason of his children as well as his own good
manners and legal subtlety, had managed to ingratiate himself into
the best circles of Lycurgus society, she suddenly confided to Jill
Trumbull, the elder of the lawyer's two daughters: "You know I had
a funny experience to-day." And she proceeded to relate all that
had occurred in detail. Afterward at dinner, Jill having appeared
to find it most fascinating, she again repeated it to Gertrude and
Tracy, the younger daughter and only son of the Trumbull family.
"Oh, yes," observed Tracy Trumbull, a law student in his father's
office, "I've seen that fellow, I bet, three or four times on
Central Avenue. He looks a lot like Gil, doesn't he? Only not so
swagger. I've nodded to him two or three times this summer because
I thought he was Gil for the moment."
"Oh, I've seen him, too," commented Gertrude Trumbull. "He wears a
cap and a belted coat like Gilbert Griffiths, sometimes, doesn't
he? Arabella Stark pointed him out to me once and then Jill and I
saw him passing Stark's once on a Saturday afternoon. He is better
looking than Gil, any day, I think."
This confirmed Sondra in her own thoughts in regard to Clyde and
now she added: "Bertine Cranston and I met him one evening last
spring at the Griffiths'. We thought he was too bashful, then.
But I wish you could see him now--he's positively handsome, with
the softest eyes and the nicest smile."
"Oh, now, Sondra," commented Jill Trumbull, who, apart from Bertine
and Bella, was as close to Sondra as any girl here, having been one
of her classmates at the Snedeker School, "I know some one who
would be jealous if he could hear you say that."
"And wouldn't Gil Griffiths like to hear that his cousin's better
looking than he is?" chimed in Tracy Trumbull. "Oh, say--"
"Oh, he," sniffed Sondra irritably. "He thinks he's so much. I'll
bet anything it's because of him that the Griffiths won't have
anything to do with their cousin. I'm sure of it, now that I think
of it. Bella would, of course, because I heard her say last spring
that she thought he was good-looking. And Myra wouldn't do
anything to hurt anybody. What a lark if some of us were to take
him up some time and begin inviting him here and there--once in a
while, you know--just for fun, to see how he would do. And how the
Griffiths would take it. I know well enough it would be all right
with Mr. Griffiths and Myra and Bella, but Gil I'll bet would be as
peeved as anything. I couldn't do it myself very well, because I'm
so close to Bella, but I know who could and they couldn't say a
thing." She paused, thinking of Bertine Cranston and how she
disliked Gil and Mrs. Griffiths. "I wonder if he dances or rides
or plays tennis or anything like that?" She stopped and meditated
amusedly, the while the others studied her. And Jill Trumbull, a
restless, eager girl like herself, without so much of her looks or
flair, however, observed: "It would be a prank, wouldn't it? Do
you suppose the Griffiths really would dislike it very much?"
"What's the difference if they did?" went on Sondra. "They
couldn't do anything more than ignore him, could they? And who
would care about that, I'd like to know. Not the people who
invited him."
"Go on, you fellows, stir up a local scrap, will you?" put in Tracy
Trumbull. "I'll bet anything that's what comes of it in the end.
Gil Griffiths won't like it, you can gamble on that. I wouldn't if
I were in his position. If you want to stir up a lot of feeling
here, go to it, but I'll lay a bet that's what it comes to."
Now Sondra Finchley's nature was of just such a turn that a thought
of this kind was most appealing to her. However, as interesting as
the idea was to her at the time, nothing definite might have come
of it, had it not been that subsequent to this conversation and
several others held with Bertine Cranston, Jill Trumbull, Patricia
Anthony, and Arabella Stark, the news of this adventure, together
with some comments as to himself, finally came to the ears of
Gilbert Griffiths, yet only via Constance Wynant to whom, as local
gossips would have it, he was prospectively engaged. And
Constance, hoping that Gilbert would marry her eventually, was
herself irritated by the report that Sondra had chosen to interest
herself in Clyde, and then, for no sane reason, as she saw it,
proclaim that he was more attractive than Gilbert. So, as much to
relieve herself as to lay some plan of avenging herself upon
Sondra, if possible, she conveyed the whole matter in turn to
Gilbert, who at once proceeded to make various cutting references
to Clyde and Sondra. And these carried back to Sondra, along with
certain embellishments by Constance, had the desired effect. It
served to awaken in her the keenest desire for retaliation. For if
she chose she certainly could be nice to Clyde, and have others be
nice to him, too. And that would mean perhaps that Gilbert would
find himself faced by a social rival of sorts--his own cousin, too,
who, even though he was poor, might come to be liked better. What
a lark! At the very same time there came to her a way by which she
might most easily introduce Clyde, and yet without seeming so to
do, and without any great harm to herself, if it did not terminate
as she wished.
For in Lycurgus among the younger members of those smarter families
whose children had been to the Snedeker School, existed a rather
illusory and casual dinner and dance club called the "Now and
Then." It had no definite organization, officers or abode. Any
one, who, because of class and social connections was eligible and
chose to belong, could call a meeting of other members to give a
dinner or dance or tea in their homes.
And how simple, thought Sondra in browsing around for a suitable
vehicle by which to introduce Clyde, if some one other than herself
who belonged could be induced to get up something and then at her
suggestion invite Clyde. How easy, say, for Jill Trumbull to give
a dinner and dance to the "Now and Thens," to which Clyde might be
invited. And by this ruse she would thus be able to see him again
and find out just how much he did interest her and what he was
like.
Accordingly a small dinner for this club and its friends was
announced for the first Thursday in December, Jill Trumbull to be
the hostess. To it were to be invited Sondra and her brother,
Stuart, Tracy and Gertrude Trumbull, Arabella Stark, Bertine and
her brother, and some others from Utica and Gloversville as well.
And Clyde. But in order to safeguard Clyde against any chance of
failure or even invidious comment of any kind, not only she but
Bertine and Jill and Gertrude were to be attentive to and
considerate of him. They were to see that his dance program was
complete and that neither at dinner nor on the dance floor was he
to be left to himself, but was to be passed on most artfully from
one to the other until evening should be over. For, by reason of
that, others might come to be interested in him, which would not
only take the thorn from the thought that Sondra alone, of all the
better people of Lycurgus, had been friendly to him, but would
sharpen the point of this development for Gilbert, if not for Bella
and the other members of the Griffiths family.
And in accordance with this plan, so it was done.
And so it was that Clyde, returning from the factory one early
December evening about two weeks after his encounter with Sondra,
was surprised by the sight of a cream-colored note leaning against
the mirror of his dresser. It was addressed in a large, scrawly
and unfamiliar hand. He picked it up and turned it over without
being able in any way to fix upon the source. On the back were the
initials B. T. or J. T., he could not decide which, so elaborately
intertwined was the engraved penmanship. He tore it open and drew
out a card which read:
The Now and Then Club
Will Hold Its First
Winter Dinner Dance
At the Home of
Douglas Trumbull
135 Wykeagy Ave
On Thursday, December 4
You Are Cordially Invited
Will You Kindly Reply to Miss Jill Trumbull?
On the back of this, though, in the same scrawly hand that graced
the envelope was written: "Dear Mr. Griffiths: Thought you might
like to come. It will be quite informal. And I'm sure you'll like
it. If so, will you let Jill Trumbull know? Sondra Finchley."
Quite amazed and thrilled, Clyde stood and stared. For ever since
that second contact with her, he had been more definitely
fascinated than at any time before by the dream that somehow, in
some way, he was to be lifted from the lowly state in which he now
dwelt. He was, as he now saw it, really too good for the
Commonplace world by which he was environed. And now here was
this--a social invitation issued by the "Now and Then Club," of
which, even though he had never heard of it, must be something
since it was sponsored by such exceptional people. And on the back
of it, was there not the writing of Sondra herself? How marvelous,
really!
So astonished was he that he could scarcely contain himself for
joy, but now on the instant must walk to and fro, looking at
himself in the mirror, washing his hands and face, then deciding
that his tie was not just right, perhaps, and changing to another--
thinking forward to what he should wear and back upon how Sondra
had looked at him on that last occasion. And how she had smiled.
At the same time he could not help wondering even at this moment of
what Roberta would think, if now, by some extra optical power of
observation she could note his present joy in connection with this
note. For plainly, and because he was no longer governed by the
conventional notions of his parents, he had been allowing himself
to drift into a position in regard to her which would certainly
spell torture to her in case she should discover the nature of his
present mood, a thought which puzzled him not a little, but did not
serve to modify his thoughts in regard to Sondra in the least.
That wonderful girl!
That beauty!
That world of wealth and social position she lived in!
At the same time so innately pagan and unconventional were his
thoughts in regard to all this that he could now ask himself, and
that seriously enough, why should he not be allowed to direct his
thoughts toward her and away from Roberta, since at the moment
Sondra supplied the keener thought of delight. Roberta could not
know about this. She could not see into his mind, could she--
become aware of any such extra experience as this unless he told
her. And most assuredly he did not intend to tell her. And what
harm, he now asked himself, was there in a poor youth like himself
aspiring to such heights? Other youths as poor as himself had
married girls as rich as Sondra.
For in spite of all that had occurred between him and Roberta he
had not, as he now clearly recalled, given her his word that he
would marry her except under one condition. And such a condition,
especially with the knowledge that he had all too clearly acquired
in Kansas City, was not likely to happen as he thought.
And Sondra, now that she had thus suddenly burst upon him again in
this way was the same as a fever to his fancy. This goddess in her
shrine of gilt and tinsel so utterly enticing to him, had deigned
to remember him in this open and direct way and to suggest that he
be invited. And no doubt she, herself, was going to be there, a
thought which thrilled him beyond measure.
And what would not Gilbert and the Griffiths think if they were to
hear of his going to this affair now, as they surely would? Or
meet him later at some other party to which Sondra might invite
him? Think of that! Would it irritate or please them? Make them
think less or more of him? For, after all, this certainly was not
of his doing. Was he not properly invited by people of their own
station here in Lycurgus whom most certainly they were compelled to
respect? And by no device of his, either--sheer accident--the
facts concerning which would most certainly not reflect on him as
pushing. As lacking as he was in some of the finer shades of
mental discrimination, a sly and ironic pleasure lay in the thought
that now Gilbert and the Griffiths might be compelled to
countenance him whether they would or not--invite him to their
home, even. For, if these others did, how could they avoid it,
really? Oh, joy! And that in the face of Gilbert's high contempt
for him. He fairly chuckled as he thought of it, feeling that
however much Gilbert might resent it, neither his uncle nor Myra
were likely to, and that hence he would be fairly safe from any
secret desire on the part of Gilbert to revenge himself on him for
this.
But how wonderful this invitation! Why that intriguing scribble of
Sondra's unless she was interested in him some? Why? The thought
was so thrilling that Clyde could scarcely eat his dinner that
night. He took up the card and kissed the handwriting. And
instead of going to see Roberta as usual, he decided as before on
first reencountering her, to walk a bit, then return to his room,
and retire early. And on the morrow as before he could make some
excuse--say that he had been over to the Griffiths' home, or some
one of the heads of the factory, in order to listen to an
explanation in regard to something in connection with the work,
since there were often such conferences. For, in the face of this,
he did not care to see or talk to Roberta this night. He could
not. The other thought--that of Sondra and her interest in him--
was too enticing.
Chapter 25
But in the interim, in connection with his relations with Roberta
no least reference to Sondra, although, even when near her in the
factory or her room, he could not keep his thoughts from wandering
away to where Sondra in her imaginary high social world might be.
The while Roberta, at moments only sensing a drift and remoteness
in his thought and attitude which had nothing to do with her, was
wondering what it was that of late was beginning to occupy him so
completely. And he, in his turn, when she was not looking was
thinking--supposing?--supposing--(since she had troubled to recall
herself to him), that he could interest a girl like Sondra in him?
What then of Roberta? What? And in the face of this intimate
relation that had now been established between them? (Goodness!
The deuce!) And that he did care for her (yes, he did), although
now--basking in the direct rays of this newer luminary--he could
scarcely see Roberta any longer, so strong were the actinic rays of
this other. Was he all wrong? Was it evil to be like this? His
mother would say so! And his father too--and perhaps everybody who
thought right about life--Sondra Finchley, maybe--the Griffiths--
all.
And yet! And yet! It was snowing the first light snow of the year
as Clyde, arrayed in a new collapsible silk hat and white silk
muffler, both suggested by a friendly haberdasher--Orrin Short,
with whom recently he had come in contact here--and a new silk
umbrella wherewith to protect himself from the snow, made his way
toward the very interesting, if not so very imposing residence of
the Trumbulls on Wykeagy Avenue. It was quaint, low and rambling,
and the lights beaming from within upon the many drawn blinds gave
it a Christmas-card effect. And before it, even at the prompt hour
at which he arrived, were ranged a half dozen handsome cars of
various builds and colors. The sight of them, sprinkled on tops,
running boards and fenders with the fresh, flaky snow, gave him a
keen sense of a deficiency that was not likely soon to be remedied
in his case--the want of ample means wherewith to equip himself
with such a necessity as that. And inside as he approached the
door he could hear voices, laughter and conversation commingled.
A tall, thin servant relieved him of his hat, coat and umbrella and
he found himself face to face with Jill Trumbull, who apparently
was on the look-out for him--a smooth, curly-haired blonde girl,
not too thrillingly pretty, but brisk and smart, in white satin
with arms and shoulders bare and rhinestones banded around her
forehead.
"No trouble to tell who you are," she said gayly, approaching and
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