Susan Warner - Nobody

"But do you never find people a bore as it is?"

Mrs. Wishart laughed. "Do you?"

"Sometimes. At least I should if I lived among them. Now , all is new, and I am curious."

"I can tell you one thing, Lois; nobody votes you a bore."

"But I never talk as they do."

"Never mind. There are exceptions to all rules. But, my dear, even youmust not be always so desperately in earnest. By the way! That handsomeyoung Mr. Caruthers – does he make himself a bore too? You have seen agood deal of him."

"No," said Lois with some deliberation. "He is pleasant, what I haveseen of him."

"And, as I remarked, that is a good deal. Isn't he a handsome fellow? Ithink Tom Caruthers is a good fellow, too. And he is likely to be asuccessful fellow. He is starting well in life, and he has connectionsthat will help him on. It is a good family; and they have money enough."

"How do you mean, 'a good family'?"

"Why, you know what that phrase expresses, don't you?"

"I am not sure that I do, in your sense. You do not mean religious?"

"No," said Mrs. Wishart, smiling; "not necessarily. Religion hasnothing to do with it. I mean – we mean – It is astonishing how hard itis to put some things! I mean, a family that has had a good socialstanding for generations. Of course such a family is connected withother good families, and it is consequently strong, and has advantagesfor all belonging to it."

"I mean," said Lois slowly, "a family that has served God forgenerations. Such a family has connections too, and advantages."

"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Wishart, opening her eyes a little at thegirl, "the two things are not inconsistent, I hope."

"I hope not."

"Wealth and position are good things at any rate, are they not?"

"So far as they go, I suppose so," said Lois. "O yes, they are pleasantthings; and good things, if they are used right."

"They are whether or no. Come! I can't have you holding any extravagantideas, Lois. They don't do in the world. They make one peculiar, and itis not good taste to be peculiar."

"You know, I am not in the world," Lois answered quietly.

"Not when you are at home, I grant you; but here, in my house, you are; and when you have a house of your own, it is likely you will be. Nomore coffee, my dear? Then let us go to the order of the day. What isthis, Williams?"

"For Miss Lot'rop," the obsequious servant replied with a bow, – "debo-quet." But he presented to his mistress a little note on his salver, and then handed to Lois a magnificent bunch of hothouse flowers. Mrs.Wishart's eyes followed the bouquet, and she even rose up to examine it.

"That is beautiful, my dear. What camellias! And what geraniums! Thatis the Black Prince, one of those, I am certain; yes, I am sure it is; and that is one of the new rare varieties. That has not come from anyflorist's greenhouse. Never. And that rose-coloured geranium is LadySutherland. Who sent the flowers, Williams?"

"Here is his card, Mrs. Wishart," said Lois. "Mr. Caruthers."

"Tom Caruthers!" echoed Mrs. Wishart. "He has cut them in his mother'sgreenhouse, the sinner!"

"Why?" said Lois. "Would that be not right?"

"It would be right, if – . Here's a note from Tom's mother, Lois – butnot about the flowers. It is to ask us to a luncheon party. Shall wego?"

"You know, dear Mrs. Wishart, I go just where you choose to take me,"said the girl, on whose cheeks an exquisite rose tint rivalled the LadySutherland geranium blossoms. Mrs. Wishart noticed it, and eyed thegirl as she was engrossed with her flowers, examining, smelling, andsmiling at them. It was pleasure that raised that delicious bloom inher cheeks, she decided; was it anything more than pleasure? What afair creature! thought her hostess; and yet, fair as she is, whatpossible chance for her in a good family? A young man may be taken withbeauty, but not his relations; and they would object to a girl who isnobody and has nothing. Well, there is a chance for her, and she shallhave the chance.

"Lois, what will you wear to this luncheon party?"

"You know all my dresses, Mrs. Wishart. I suppose my black silk wouldbe right."

"No, it would not be right at all. You are too young to wear black silkto a luncheon party. And your white dress is not the thing either."

"I have nothing else that would do. You must let me be old, in a blacksilk."

"I will not let you be anything of the kind. I will get you a dress."

"No, Mrs. Wishart; I cannot pay for it."

"I will pay for it."

"I cannot let you do that. You have done enough for me already. Mrs.Wishart, it is no matter. People will just think I cannot affordanything better, and that is the very truth."

"No, Lois; they will think you do not know any better."

"That is the truth too," said Lois, laughing.

"No it isn't; and if it is, I do not choose they should think so. Ishall dress you for this once, my dear; and I shall not ruin myselfeither."

Mrs. Wishart had her way; and so it came to pass that Lois went to theluncheon party in a dress of bright green silk; and how lovely shelooked in it is impossible to describe. The colour, which would havebeen ruinous to another person, simply set off her delicate complexionand bright brown hair in the most charming manner; while at the sametime the green was not so brilliant as to make an obvious patch ofcolour wherever its wearer might be. Mrs. Wishart was a great enemy ofstartling effects, in any kind; and the hue was deep and rich anddecided, without being flashy.

"You never looked so well in anything," was Mrs. Wishart's comment. "Ihave hit just the right thing. My dear, I would put one of those whitecamellias in your hair – that will relieve the eye."

"From what?" Lois asked, laughing.

"Never mind; you do as I tell you."

Luncheon parties were not then precisely what they are now; nevertheless the entertainment was extremely handsome. Lois and herfriend had first a long drive from their home in the country to a housein one of the older parts of the city. Old the house also was; but itwas after a roomy and luxurious fashion, if somewhat antiquated; andthe air of ancient respectability, even of ancient distinction, wasstamped upon it, as upon the family that inhabited it. Mrs. Wishart andLois were received with warm cordiality by Miss Caruthers; but theformer did not fail to observe a shadow that crossed Mrs. Caruthers'face when Lois was presented to her. Lois did not see it, and would nothave known how to interpret it if she had seen it. She is safe, thoughtMrs. Wishart, as she noticed the calm unembarrassed air with which Loissat down to talk with the younger of her hostesses.

"You are making a long stay with Mrs. Wishart," was the unpromisingopening remark.

"Mrs. Wishart keeps me."

"Do you often come to visit her?"

"I was never here before."

"Then this is your first acquain'tance with New York?"

"Yes."

"How does it strike you? One loves to get at new impressions of whatone has known all one's life. Nothing strikes us here, I suppose. Dotell me what strikes you."

"I might say, everything."

"How delightful! Nothing strikes me. I have seen it all five hundredtimes. Nothing is new."

"But people are new," said Lois. "I mean they are different from oneanother. There is continual variety there."

"To me there seems continual sameness!" said the other, with a halfshutting up of her eyes, as of one dazed with monotony. "They are allalike. I know beforehand exactly what every one will say to me, and howevery one will behave."

"That is not how it is at home," returned Lois. "It is different there."

"People are not all alike?"

"No indeed. Perfectly unlike, and individual."

"How agreeable! So that is one of the things that strike you here? thecontrast?"