Miss Dividends: A Novel

by Archibald Clavering Gunter

"Who knows but Tranyon some day may feel the fist of the Church upon him as heavy as it fell on the Morrisites?" says Jackson, lowering his voice to a whisper, and, in spite of herself, the girl, as she listens, cannot help wishing that the hand of the Mormon Church may smite this Tranyon, if it will be any aid to Harry Lawrence.

But the evening passes, and next day Erma getting to thinking of her father again, it suddenly occurs to her to look in the directory, which she does, but there is no Travenion in its list of names.

The latter part of this day, which is a long one to her, she kills by a drive with Mrs. Livingston and Oliver to the Sulphur Springs, where they enjoy the baths. Mr. Livingston, as they return home, remarking on the softness the sulphur water has given to Erma's hands, would become very attentive and amatory and lover-like, did the girl but let him; but this serves to take her thoughts from that subject they will dwell on, though she says, "To-morrow papa must come, and he shall take me in the evening to Mr. Bussey's ball."

And the morrow does come, but with it no father, and the girl turns for forgetfulness to making her preparations for the evening fête. Once or twice, however, she grows disheartened and mutters, "I cannot go. Dancing to-night would be a mockery," then suddenly cries to her maid, "The finest ball dress in my trunk,—the light blue one that I have never worn,—the one I was going to keep for San Francisco."

A second after she directs Marie to get out what jewels she is carrying with her, and murmurs to herself, "I must look my best to-night," for Miss Volatile has suddenly remembered that three days have elapsed and Harry Lawrence may be at the fête this evening.

So, when the soft October night settles down upon the city, Mrs. Livingston is astonished to find her charge in excited mood.

"My, how you will delight Oliver," babbles the widow, gazing in admiration at the light, graceful beauty of the young girl as she steps forth ready for the Bussey soirée dansante; and she does delight Oliver, who very attentively cloaks her from the evening air, which is growing cool as the autumn progresses in this valley. Then Mrs. Livingston and Erma and Louise, who is robed in some white, float-away dress and already engaged for dances six deep, as she expresses it, to some of the Gentile gentlemen in the hotel, accompanied by Mr. Oliver, take carriage for the banker's ball.

Ferdie, the night being fine and the distance short, says he will walk, which he does in company with Lamar of the Thirteenth Infantry, and Jackson of the Bully Boy, the two latter smoking huge cigars, and Mr. Chauncey affecting the more youthful cigarette.

At the portals of the banking-house a string of carriages is depositing most of the Gentile magnates, and some of the Mormon, though the Latter-Day Saints do not, as a rule, circulate very freely in outside society, their elders fearing the influence of the Gentile youth upon the maidens of Zion, as to marriage and giving in marriage.

The third story of the building has been arranged with a view of letting it for public balls, and Mr. Bussey is utilizing it for his private one this evening. Here, in the large dancing room, the Livingstons and Miss Travenion are received by the hospitable banker and his wife, who are shaking hands with the stream of guests now pouring into the ball-room, and making it look quite bright, though very much diversified. Costumes that would grace a Newport fête or Parisian ball-room alternate with the horrors of Mormon modiste invention, which is, like the country, crude. These atrocities of toilet are mostly worn by some pretty Mormon girls, who have persuaded their fathers, who are connected with the Zion's Co-operative stores or other Deseret industries, to bring them to this conglomerate ball; their escorts mostly being arrayed in the ample black broadcloth long-tailed frock coats that are considered the proper thing in mining camps and in extreme frontier society.