The Rich Mrs. Burgoyne

by Kathleen Thompson Norris

  CHAPTER XVIII

  On that same afternoon, several of the most influential members of theSanta Paloma Woman's Club met informally at Mrs. Carew's house. Some ofthe directors were there, Miss Pratt, Mrs. Lloyd and Mrs. Adams, and ofcourse Mrs. White, who had indeed been instrumental in arranging themeeting. They had met to discuss Mrs. Burgoyne's plan of using theclubhouse as a meeting place for the Old Paloma factory girls. Allthese ladies were quite aware that their verdict, however unofficial,would influence the rest of the club, and that what this group of adozen or fifteen decided upon to-day would practically settle thematter.

  Mrs. Willard White, hitherto serenely supreme in this little world, wascuriously upset about the whole thing, openly opposed to Mrs.Burgoyne's suggestion, and surprised that her mere wish in the matterwas not sufficient to carry a negative vote. Her contention was thatthe clubhouse had been built for very different purposes than thoseMrs. Burgoyne proposed, and that charity to the Old Paloma girls had nopart in the club's original reasons for being. She meant, in the courseof the argument, to hint that while so many of the actual necessitiesof decent living were lacking in the factory settlement homes, meredancing and moving-pictures did not appeal to her as reasonable orright; and although uneasily aware that she supported the unpopularargument, still she was confident of an eventual triumph.

  But despite the usual laughter, and the pleasantries and compliments,there was an air of deadly earnestness about the gathered club-womentoday that bespoke a deeper interest than was common in the matter upfor discussion. The President's color rose and deepened steadily, asthe afternoon wore on, and one voice after another declared for the newplan, and her arguments became a little less impersonal and a littlemore sharp. This was especially noticeable when, as was inevitable, thename of Mrs. Burgoyne was introduced.

  "I personally feel," said Mrs. White finally, "that perhaps we SantaPaloma women are just a little bit undignified when we allow a perfectstranger to come in among us, and influence our lives so materially,JUST because she happens to be a multi-millionaire. Are we so swayed bymere money? I hope not. I hope we all live our lives as suits US best,not to please--or shall I say flatter, and perhaps win favor with?--arich woman. We--some of us, that is!"--her smile was alllenience--"have suddenly decided we can dress more simply, havesuddenly decided to put our girls into gingham rompers, and instead ofgiving them little dancing parties, let them play about like boys! Wewonder why we need spend our money on imported hats and nice dinnersand hand-embroidered underwear, and Oriental rugs, although we thoughtthese things very well worth having a few months ago--and why? Justbecause we are easily led, I'm afraid, and not quite conscious enoughof our own dignity!"

  There had been a decided heightening of color among the listening womenduring this little speech, and, as the President finished, more thanone pair of eyes rested upon her with a slightly resentful steadiness.There was a short silence, in which several women were gathering theirthoughts for speech, but Mrs. Brown, always popular in Santa Paloma,from the days of her short braids and short dresses, and quite theyoungest among them to-day, was the first to speak.

  "I daresay that is quite true, Mrs. White," said Mrs. Brown, withdignity, "except that I don't think Mrs. Burgoyne's money influencesme, or any of us! I admit that she herself, quite apart from her greatfortune, has influenced me tremendously in lots of ways, but I don'tthink she ever tried to do it, or realizes that she has. And as far ascopying goes, don't we women always copy somebody, anyway? Aren't wealways imitating the San Francisco women, and don't they copy New York,and doesn't New York copy London or Paris? We read what feathers arein, and how skirts are cut, and how coffee and salads are served, andwe all do it, or try to. And when Mrs. Burgoyne came to the Hall, andnever took one particle of interest in that sort of thing, I justthought it over and wondered why I should attempt to impress a womanwho could buy this whole town and not miss the money?"

  Laughter interrupted her, and some sympathetic clapping, but shepresently went on seriously:

  "I took all the boys' white socks one day, and dyed them dark brown.And I dyed all their white suits dark blue. I've gotten myself somegalatea dresses that nothing tears or spoils, and that come home freshand sweet from the wash every week. And, as a result, I actually havesome time to spare, for the first time since I was married. We aregoing to try some educational experiments on the children this winter,and, if that leaves any leisure, I am heart and soul for this new plan.Doctor Brown feels as I do. Of course, he's a doctor," said the loyallittle wife, "and he KNOWS! And he says that all those Old Paloma girlswant is a little mothering, and that when there are mothers enough togo round, there won't be any charity or legislation needed in thisworld."

  "I think you've said it all, for all of us, Mary!" Mrs. Carew said,when some affectionate applause had subsided. "I think things wereprobably different, a few generations ago," she went on, "but nowadayswhen fashions are so arbitrary, and change so fast, really andhonestly, some of us, whose incomes are limited, will have to stopsomewhere. Why, the very children expect box-parties, and motor-trips,and caterers' suppers, in these days. And one wouldn't mind, if it lefttime for home life, and reading, and family intercourse, but itdoesn't. We don't know what our children are studying, what they'rethinking about, or what life means to them at all, because we are toobusy answering the telephone, and planning clothes, and writing formalnotes, and going to places we feel we ought to be seen in. I'm havingmore fun than I had in years, helping our children plan some abridgedplays from Shakespeare, with the Burgoyne girls, for this winter, andI'm perfectly astonished, even though I'm their mother, at theirenjoyment of it, and at my own. Mr. Carew himself, who NEVER takes muchinterest in that sort of thing, asked me why they couldn't give themfor the Old Paloma Girls' Club, if they get a club room. I didn't knowhe even knew anything about our club plans. I said, 'George, are youwilling to have Jeannette get interested in that crowd?' and he said,'Finest thing in the world for her!' and I don't know," finished Mrs.Carew, thoughtfully, "but what he's right."

  "I'm all for it," said breezy Mrs. Lloyd, "I don't imagine I'd be anygood at actually talking to them, but I would go to the dances, andintroduce people, and trot partners up to the wallflowers--"

  There was more laughter, and then Mrs. Adams said briskly:

  "Well, let's take an informal vote!"

  "I don't think that's necessary, Sue," said Mrs. White, generously, "Ithink I am the only one of us who believes in preserving the traditionof the dear old club, and I must bow to the majority, of course.Perhaps it will be a little hard to see strangers there; our prettyfloors ruined, and our pretty walls spotted, but--" an eloquent shrug,and a gesture of her pretty hands finished the sentence with the words,"isn't that the law?"

  And upon whole-hearted applause for Mrs. White, Mrs. Carew tactfullyintroduced the subject of tea.

  They were all chatting amicably enough in the dining-room a few minuteslater when George Carew and Barry Valentine came in. Barry, who seemedexcited, exhilarated and tired, had come to borrow a typewriter fromthe Carews. He responded to sympathetic inquiries, that he had beenworking like a madman since noon, and that there would be an issue ofthe Mail ready for them in the morning. He said, "everyone had beensimply corking about everything," and it began to look like smoothsailing now. In the few minutes that he waited for young George Carewto find the typewriter and bring it down to him, a fresh interruptionoccurred in the entrance of old Mrs. Apostleman.

  Mrs. Apostleman, between being out of breath from hurrying up the hillin the late afternoon heat, and fearful that the gathering would breakup before she could say what she wanted to say, and entirely unable tocontrol her gasping and puffing, was a sight at once funny andpitiable. As she sank into a comfortable chair she held up one fat handto command attention, and with the other laid forcible hold upon BarryValentine. Three or four of the younger women hurried to her with fansand tea, and in a moment or two she really could manage disconnectedwords.

  "Thanks, m
e dear. No, no cake. Just a mouthful of tea to--there, that'sbetter! I was afraid ye'd all be gone--that'll do, thank ye, Susie!Well," she set down her tea-cup, "well! I've a little piece of news foryou all--don't go, Barry, you'll be interested in this, and I couldn'twait to come up and tell ye!" She began to fumble in her bag, andpresently produced therefrom her eye-glasses and a letter. The lattershe opened with a great crackling of paper.

  "This is from me brother, Alexander Wetherall," said she, with animpressive glance over her glasses. "As ye know, he's a family lawyerin New York, he has the histories of half the old families in thecountry pigeon-holed away in those old offices of his. He doesn't writeme very often; his wife does now and then--stupid woman, but nice.However, I wrote him in May, and told him Mrs. Burgoyne had bought theHall, and just asked him what he knew about her and her people. Here--"marking a certain line with a pudgy, imperative finger, she handed apage of the letter to Barry, "read from there on," she commanded, "thisis what he says."

  Barry took the paper, but hesitated.

  "It's all right!" said the old lady, impatiently, "nobody could sayanything that wasn't good about Sidney Burgoyne."

  Thus reassured, Barry turned obediently to the indicated place.

  "'You ask me about your new neighbor,'" he read, "'I suppose of courseyou know that she is Paul Frothingham's only child by his secondmarriage. Her mother died while she was a baby, and Frothingham tookher all over the world with him, wherever he went. She married veryyoung, Colonel John Burgoyne, of the Maryland family, older than she,but a very fine fellow. As a girl and as his wife she had anextraordinary opportunity for social success, she was a great favoritein the diplomatic circle at Washington, and well known in the bestLondon set, and in the European capitals. She seems to be quite aremarkable young woman, but you are all wrong about her money; she isvery far from rich. She--'"

  Barry stopped short. Mrs. Apostleman cackled delightedly; no one elsestirred.

  "'She got very little of Frothingham's money,'" Barry presently readon, '"it came to him from his first wife, who was a widow with twodaughters when he married her. The money naturally reverted to hergirls, Mrs. Fred Senior and Mrs. Spencer Mack, both of this city.'"

  "Ha! D'ye get that?" said Mrs. Apostleman. "Go on!"

  "'Frothingham left his own daughter something considerably less than ahundred thousand dollars,'" Barry presently resumed, "'not more thanseventy or eighty thousand, certainly. It is still invested in theestate. It must pay her three or four thousand a year. And besides thatshe has only Burgoyne's insurance, twenty or twenty-five thousand, forthose years of illness pretty well used up his own money. I believe thestepsisters were very anxious to make her a more generous arrangement,but she seems to have declined it. Alice says they are quite devoted--'"

  "Alice don't count!" said the old lady "that's his wife. That'senough." She stopped the reader and refolded the letter, hermischievous eyes dancing. "Well, what d'ye think of that?" she demanded.

  Barry's bewildered, "Well, I will be darned!" set loose a babel oftongues. Mrs. Apostleman had not counted in vain upon a sensation;everyone talked at once. Mrs. White's high, merry laugh dominated allthe other voices.

  "So there is a very much better reason for thissimple-dinner-blue-gingham existence than we supposed," said thePresident of the Santa Paloma Women's Club amusedly when the first rushof comment died away. "I think that is quite delicious! While all of uswere feeling how superior she was not to get a motor, and not torebuild the Hall, she was simply living within her income, and makingthe best of it!"

  "I don't know that it makes her any less superior," Mrs. Carew saidthoughtfully. "It--it certainly makes her seem--NICER. I neversuspected her of--well, of preaching, exactly, but I have sometimesthought that she really couldn't enter into our point of view, with allthat money! I think I'm going to like her more than ever!" she finishedlaughingly.

  "Why, it's the greatest relief in the world!" exclaimed Mrs. Adams."I've been rather holding back about going up there, and imitating her,because I honestly didn't want to be influenced by eight millions, andI was afraid. I WAS. Not a week ago Wayne asked me if I thought she'dlike him to donate a sewing machine to her Girls' Club for them to runup their little costumes with--he has the agency, you know--and I said,'Oh, don't, Wayne, she can buy them a sewing machine apiece if shewants to, and never know it!' But I'm going to make him write her,TO-NIGHT," said Mrs. Adams, firmly, "and I declare I feel as if aweight had dropped off my shoulders. It MEANS so much more now, if weoffer her the club. It means that we aren't merely giving a LadyBountiful her way, but that we're all working together like neighbors,and trying to do some good in the world."

  "And I don't think there's any question that she would live exactlythis way," Miss Pratt contributed shyly, "and play with the children,and dress as she does, even if she had fifty millions! She's simplyfound out what pays in this life, and what doesn't pay, and I think agood many of us were living too hard and fast ever to stop and thinkwhether it was really worth while or not. She's the happiest woman Iever knew; it makes one happy just to be with her, and no money can buythat."

  "But it's curious she never has taken the trouble to undeceive us,"said Mrs. White beginning to fit on an immaculate pair of white gloves,finger by finger.

  "Why--you'll see!--She never dreamed we thought she was anything butone of ourselves." Mrs. Brown predicted. "Why should she? When did sheever speak of money, or take the least interest in money? She neverspeaks of it. She says 'I can't afford the time, or I can't afford theeffort,' that's what counts with her. Doesn't it, Barry?"

  "Barry, do you really suppose--" Mrs. Carew was beginning, as sheturned to the doorway where he had been standing.

  But Barry had gone.