CHAPTER XXIV
SOCIETY
Hiram knew that Lettie Bronson, after all, had her way with her father and that before the summer was over she had made him take her to one of the lake shore resorts where she met just the class of girls whom she had associated with at St. Beris. Since they had returned to Plympton, and during harvest and afterward, Miss Lettie had been to Sunnyside but seldom.
Now that winter had come and Hiram Strong had some free hours, he began, as any other healthy and normal young fellow would, to long for some society besides that of his two comrades on the farm and Yancey Battick.
Even Delia Pringle did not furnish all the "ladies' society" Hiram craved. And for some weeks about the only time he saw a girl was when he and Orrin hitched up Jerry and went to church on a Sunday morning.
But he was not entirely forgotten by his employer's daughter. That fact became apparent the very day after the bewhiskered farmer and the lawyer searching for "Theodore Chester" had stopped at Sunnyside Farm. The postman brought Hiram a dainty envelope in which was an equally dainty missive in Lettie's rigid, upright handwriting.
It was a warm little note—not at all the ordinary staid invitation to an evening party—and for a long time Hiram kept it in the bottom of his handkerchief box where some scent lay.
Sister's letters, which now came with fortnightly regularity, he kept too. But he did not hide them under the flowered silk lining of his handkerchief box.
The party at the Bronson house was to be—as Hiram supposed—rather a dressy affair. He had already prepared for it. He had sent his measurements as the advertised instructions directed to a catalogue house in Chicago and from there in due season arrived a "full tailored" dress suit. It fitted fairly well; but of course it was a block pattern garment, fitted with the tailor's "goose" rather than to Hiram's measurements. It fairly shrieked "ready made!"
"You'll knock their eye out, Mr. Strong," declared Jim Larry, as Hiram appeared dressed for the revel, kid gloves and all.
Hiram hoped he looked as good as Jim's enthusiasm suggested; but somehow he had his doubts. Besides Orrin, who had harnessed Jerry to the run-about for him and handed Hiram the reins after he got in the carriage, only said:
"Hope you have a good time, Strong. My regards to the Bronsons."
Orrin did not say a word about how fine Hiram looked in his new plumage. The young fellow began to feel a trifle anxious. He knew he felt uncomfortable. If by any chance he looked as bad as he felt—
He drove down to Plympton in rather high fettle, however, arriving at the Bronson house at the edge of town just as it was getting dark. The place was not lit up and there seemed to be few arrivals. First he wondered if he had mistaken the evening. Then he wondered if anything had happened—anything serious to Lettie or her father—and the party had been postponed.
He drove in by the side lane to the broad yard at the back. One of the stablemen came out with a lantern and recognized Jerry.
"Oh! Hullo! You're from Sunnyside, aren't you? Come down to help us?"
"Help you do what?" Hiram asked climbing down from the carriage rather stiffly, for it was a cold night.
"Help us look after the teams and show 'em where to park their jitneys," said the man carelessly.
"Not to-night," Hiram replied soberly. "I've been invited to the party."
"Whew! All right, me lord!" chuckled the stableman. "But there's nothing doing in the party line for an hour or more yet. Did you come so early because you were afraid they'd eat up all the cake and drink all the grapejuice on you?"
Hiram did not answer this gibe. He walked around the cold streets for two hours before he ventured back to the Bronson house.
Then he found that the company had arrived with a rush. He was directed to the men's coat room on the second floor. It was filled with men and most of them—at least those who appeared quite grown-up—were in dress suits. A glance assured the observant Hiram his own garments were not altogether in the mode.
These fellows' coats fitted them as sleek as a cat's hide! Hiram knew that his garments wrinkled or bagged. After having his overcoat on so long and sitting in the carriage, his new dress suit needed pressing. The tailor's goose might have helped some at this juncture.
He saw more than one curious glance cast in his direction. But he was in for it, and Hiram Strong had suffered a searing of his pride before. He knew how to stand the gaff.
At the wide entrance to the drawing room Lettie was standing with her father to greet the guests. She carried an immense bouquet of hothouse flowers.
"Hiram! How glad I am to see you," she said, very kindly.
But at once the young farmer realized that she seemed looking over his shoulder as though in search of somebody else. Hiram stood aside, but there was nobody in the doorway. Lettie asked:
"Isn't he with you?"
"Who?" Hiram queried.
"Mr. Post—Orrin Post. Didn't he come?"
"Why Lettie! I didn't know he was invited. You didn't expect me to bring Orrin?"
"I thought he would come with you, Hiram. I invited him."
Hiram felt momentarily relieved. He shook his head, however, saying:
"I surely did not know anything about that. Orrin did not mention it to me. Are you sure—?"
"I sent him an invitation," Lettie said, pouting. "He is such a nice dancer. I am disappointed, Hiram."
"And he did not reply to you at all?"
She shook her head firmly. She was very pretty in her party dress and with her hair "done up" for almost the first time that Hiram had seen it so. Lettie seemed quite grown up indeed.
"It must be that Orrin did not receive your invitation. He surely would have mentioned it. We talked about this party a good deal," said Hiram smiling.
Lettie had been looking Hiram over, and now she was smiling a little, too. The young farm manager wondered if her amusement was not aroused by his ill-fitting suit. His gloves were uncomfortable, too. One of them had begun to split!
"How did you send the invitation to him?" Hiram asked hurriedly, trying to cover his own embarrassment.
"By mail. Just as I did yours."
"It is strange, then," Hiram said. "I am sorry, and I am sure Orrin would have loved to come. Are there any other folks on our R. F. D. route named Post?"
"I just directed it to him at Pringleton. I didn't even put 'Sunnyside Farm' on the letter. I didn't address yours any differently, Hiram."
"No. But the mail carrier knows me all right. I—I don't believe Orrin has received or written a letter since he has been with me."
"Oh! Doesn't he have any friends at all?"
"Doesn't seem to," replied Hiram, making room for another arrival then.
Mr. Bronson welcomed him warmly; but of course he gave his time mostly to the older people who came to the party. Hiram found himself alone for the most part. He knew very few people here in Plympton, and almost none of the younger set.
He found himself with a group of older men who largely talked farming or politics. It looked as if he would have a dull evening, and Hiram wished more than once during the first hour that he had not come.
He wondered if Orrin had received an invitation but had been wise enough to remain away from the Bronsons' party. It was queer!
Then Lettie was kind enough to hunt Hiram out and give him a dance on her list. The dance was informal and there were no cards, and the girls seemed just as likely to ask the young men for a dance as vice versa.
No other girl gave Hiram the opportunity to dance, however, having seen him on the floor with Lettie. That awkwardly fitting dress suit certainly made a show of him.
Hiram apprehended more than one giggling comment as he turned about the room with Lettie. She offered to dance with him again later, but he told her he thought he should go home early—it was such a long drive back to Sunnyside Farm.
This was rather cowardly on his part. Yet he felt that he could not let the girl, out of the kindness of her heart, make a further exhibition on the floor of herself with him.
The young farm manager kept out of Lettie's way as much as possible for the rest of the evening. And he did go home early.
"I hope you enjoyed yourself, Hi," said Mr. Bronson, when the boy bade him good-bye. "Seems to me I didn't see you dancing much. Don't you care for it? Too sensible, I bet!"
His employer's cordiality was not to be doubted. Lettie seemed just as sweet to him as she could be. Yet Hiram was glad when he was jogging back to the farm behind Jerry. Society was not a condition in which Hiram Strong could shine.
The next time he had occasion to drive to Pringleton the young manager of Sunnyside Farm went to the post office for a special purpose.
"Is there any letter here for Mr. Orrin Post?" he asked the young woman who presided over the local mail.
"Why, Mr. Strong!" she exclaimed, "you don't take the Posts' mail."
"Why don't I take Orrin Post's letters—if he has any?"
"Because Orrin Post lives clear down at the other end of Number Three route—almost fifteen miles east of the town. And you don't look anything like Orrin Post," she added, smiling.
"Don't I?"
"He has heaps and heaps of whiskers," laughed the young woman. "And there is no other Orrin Post that I know of."
"There is a man working for me by that name," Hiram said seriously.
"Then you must tell him to be sure to have his correspondents put 'Sunnyside Farm' on their envelopes addressed to him," was the advice of the postmistress.