sinister line. Her own possessionsshrunk into insignificance compared with this elegance. Even the longshut-up state parlor in Knickerbocker Mansion could hardly vie with it.Lady Tyron, the last lady of York, had fitted that room with heirloomsfrom her English home. Jonathan was in the habit of calling it the finestapartment in the State. He prated of its mouldering beauties often,forgetting that it was lauded by his townsmen long before theKnickerbockers entered its portals.
The contents of the Snograss parlor had given other Gothamites momentaryuneasiness that afternoon. Of course no one felt they possessed theKnickerbocker right to feel deeply aggrieved over them. Mrs. Rumbell,spying the oil-painted views of Trenton by the entrance door, hurriedlyshut her eyes, vowing the calm feeling in her heart should not bedisturbed. As penance for the pain which the pictures of the hated capitalgave her she seized a dish of quince scones and ran with them to Dr.Slumnus. Refreshments had not been passed about, and the rector of St.Paul's signalled to his mother-in-law not to approach. Thinking that hepreferred the gooseberry tarts on an opposite table she hastened over forthem, until Samuel, visibly embarrassed by her attentions, left hiscomfortable cushioned chair and took refuge in the hall.
If any one had imagined that Mrs. Snograss would forgive the variousslights put upon her in York, she or he was doomed to disappointment. Allthe pleasant things they said to her about her costly egg-shell china, theglass aviary with the artificial tree, and other luxuries, failed tosoften her vindictive mood. Each timidly expressed compliment recalled toher a covert sneer, a deprecating smile, or a garment hastily drawn aside.As Miss Georgina, on behalf of the presiding committee, counted up theEaster gifts the church would give to the poor, the Trenton widow whom shefeared as a rival was musing on past insults.
"Ten tin trumpets," called the loud voice.
"I can humble her," thought the Snograss woman.
"Ten surprise packages," continued the other.
"I'll give the Knickerbocker family a surprise," spoke the indignantTrentonian half aloud.
She was naturally an amiable person, but the aristocratic congregation ofSt. Paul's had impaired her temper, proffering her vinegar when she hadsought the wine of good-fellowship. She stared at the bedizened figure ofthe sister of the autocrat of York a moment longer, then turned meaninglyto the only member of the Scruggins set who happened to be present. Therewas already a look of triumph in her eyes. "She shall bend to the dustsoon," she whispered. Then she arose from her sofa, clashing the folds ofher tilter until the room was full of lustring mockery. Everything was inreadiness for Mrs. Snograss's climax of the afternoon. Revenge spread outits hands and gave her tongue.
"Have you ever heard of 'The School for Scandal,' Miss Knickerbocker?" sheasked, wreathing her face in an inscrutable smile.
Glad of an opportunity for displaying her knowledge, Georgina rose eagerlyto the bait. "I saw the play at the Park in the twenties. 'Twas aprodigious fine cast, if I remember."
"They say a new Sheridan has come to our city." Every Gothamite loved thatphrase, "our city," and Mrs. Snograss dwelt on the words with the nicestshade of mimicry. "He is preparing a little comedy I might dub the samename," she snickered.
"An author man?" asked the Knickerbocker voice that always filled theroom. "What does he want here?"
A sudden silence fell upon the company. Eyes were turned on the Turkeycarpet before the fireplace where the great ladies stood. Ears were cockedin their direction. The pirouetting woodland fay embellishing the tambourfirescreen, worked by the Trentonian when she attended Madame de Foe'sAcademy for gentle children, wore a more conscious smirk than usual. Eventhe twin Bow dogs which had held their tufted tails erect through thestormiest family fracases seemed agitated.
"He plays the organ at our church," she answered with forced deliberation;then in a whisper loud enough to have done credit to a lady on the boards,she added, "and when away from that instrument spends his time making loveto your niece Patricia."
Mrs. Snograss gave a hysterical laugh and retreated a few rods.
A thunder-bolt falling at Miss Georgina's feet could not have created moreconsternation. For a moment she glared at the creature before her as ifshe were a butterfly or a beetle--something to be crushed and killed--thenremembering that politeness is always a trusty weapon, she roared in assoft a fashion as she could, "You are mistaken, madam!"
"My Julie saw them kissing less than an hour ago on the Marine Parade!"
"Ladies who make confidants of their servants are often misinformed," theother hissed.
By this time all Vesey Street was on its feet. The plans of the day wereforgotten. Every one was too stunned to speak. A Knickerbocker openlyinsulted--the thought was appalling! Miss Julie, who was fingering someSnograss ambrotypes, let them slip to the floor in her excitement. She hadnot been so much agitated for years--not since a certain ship sailed outof Amboy for the Indies bearing a youthful captain whom JudgeKnickerbocker had bidden her forget.
"Oh, oh!" she gasped--and there were those who afterward declared shelooked almost pleased. "My niece has a lover!" But in another breath, "Oh,what will her father say?"
"_My Julie saw them kissing less than an hour ago on themarine parade_"]
"Jerusalem, restrain yourself," called her sister. That lady was sweepingproudly from the room.
"Impudence!" she said, thrusting her sister out of the hall. When the coldair of the street touched their hot faces, she spoke again. Her anger wasfast engulfed in a wave of bitter humiliation.
"We are disgraced, Jerusalem! The Knickerbocker name dishonored! The manis a person of common family. I fear the Gobies and the Gabies are turningin their graves. What would Aunt Jane have thought?"
"They kissed in the shrubbery--My niece in love?" Miss Julie waswhispering to herself unheeded. The faded leaves of the one flower in herheart were stirring gently.
Now and then the faint note of a bell drifted on the air. The old sextonof St. Paul's was preparing his metal children for their long anthem.
"Oh, joyous night, make haste--make haste," they tinkled to the taper-likestar above them.
"Disgraced!" muttered Miss Georgina.
The ghosts of their ancestors Page 5
