A Little Girl in Old San Francisco

by Amanda M. Douglas

Then they must go to London and get settled. They would have a real home, an attractive place where they could entertain. Mr. Westbury would be away a good deal on flying trips, and now he would not mind leaving his wife with her pleasant companion. He really grew fond of Laverne in a proud sort of way. He liked women to have attractions. He was not jealous, he had found his wife too useful to spoil it by any petty captiousness.

Laverne was really amazed. A simple little home, Mrs. Westbury had said, but it seemed to her quite grand. A pretty court, the house standing back a little, a plot of flowers and some vines, a spacious hall with rooms on both sides, a large drawing room, smaller delightful apartments, sleeping and dressing rooms upstairs, a man and several maids, and a carriage kept on livery.

On one side of the hall were an office and a smoking room devoted to the gentlemen who called on business, and there were many of them, but they did not disturb the ladies.

Some old friends came to welcome Mrs. Westbury back, and this was Miss Westbury, who had been at school in the "States" while they were travelling about, and now would remain permanently with them. Mrs. Westbury sent out cards for a Sunday reception and presented her daughter to the guests. She was something delightfully fresh and new, a pretty, modest girl who might have been reared in any English family, and who was not handsome enough to shine down the daughters of other mammas.

It was her very naturalness that proved her greatest charm. And Mrs. Westbury found she had not made any mistake in desiring her. Young men sought her favor again. Older men lingered for a bit of bright talk. Laverne felt at times as if she were in an enchanted world. How could youth remain blind to the delight?

Then all the wonderful journeys about to famous places, art galleries, concerts, drives in the parks. It seemed as if there was no end to the money. Since prosperity had dawned upon David Westbury he had made it a rule never to want twice for a thing be it indulgence of any reasonable sort, once when he had, and once when he had not. His plans were working admirably. A golden stream was pouring in and he was in his element. A few years of this and he could retire on his competency.

She wrote to Miss Holmes and heard from her the current news about every one. Olive Personette was well married. Isola had a music master, an enthusiastic German, who insisted such a voice should not be hidden out of sight and hearing. Her father had been persuaded to allow her to sing in St. Mary's Church, recently completed in a very fine manner, on Ascension Sunday and there had been great enthusiasm over the unknown singer. Elena was growing up into a bright, eager girl who rode magnificently and danced to perfection, and was already drawing crowds of admirers, much to her mother's satisfaction, and would make amends for Isola's diffidence and distaste of society. Dick Folsom was still flirting with pretty girls. Nothing had been heard from Mr. Chadsey, except that he had gone up to the wild Russian possessions. There was inclosed a letter from Mrs. Hudson, who was a happy mother, and José was the best of husbands.

Laverne wondered at times how it was possible to hear anything of Victor Savedra. Girls were so hedged about here, everything they did inquired into. It would not be proper for her to write, and if she had an answer Mrs. Westbury would know it. She kept an excellent watch over her pretty daughter. She was really glad no one heard from Jason Chadsey. In this round of pleasure Laverne would soon forget that crude life, and not care to go back to it.

She did find many things to interest. But the Westbury society was not of the intellectual type. Then there were no stirring questions about one's own town. London seemed a great agglomeration of small places, and was to a degree finished. There was no especial Steamer day, there was no influx of miners, no great bay with its shipping at hand, and, oh, no great ocean with its multitude of denizens to watch.

Yet, of course, there were other wonderful things, the galleries, with their pictures and statues, only it seemed to her that people went quite as much to see each other's fine clothes. There were the churches, the palaces, the great piles of learning that had trained Englishmen hundreds of years. Mr. Westbury took them to the House of Commons to a debate that he was interested in, but she felt a little disappointed. Somewhere at Oxford was Victor Savedra, but what was one amid the great multitude?