“Chattery,” indeed! Her tongue seemed paralysed, her very neck felt strained and stiff, and she stumbled over the rug in her effort to stop trembling. In her own room, alone with Patty and Nan, she had overcome this, but now, in the brilliantly lighted drawing-room and the presence of other people, the terrible timidity returned, and Christine made a most unsuccessful entrance.
But Mr. Fairfield ignored the girl’s embarrassment, and said, cordially but quietly: “How do you do, Miss Farley? I am very glad to welcome you here.”
His kind handclasp reassured her even more than his pleasant words, and then Mr. Hepworth greeted her.
“You did well to come,” he said. “I am glad to see you in New York at last.”
But Christine couldn’t recover herself, and so, as the kindest thing to do, the rest rather let her alone and chatted on other subjects.
Gradually she grew less agitated, and as their merry chit-chat waxed gay and frivolous, her determination returned, that she, too, would acquire this accomplishment.
Then dinner was announced, and, though outwardly calm, the Southern girl was inwardly in great trepidation lest she commit some ignorant error in etiquette.
But she was of gentle birth and breeding, and innately refined, so she knew intuitively regarding all points, save perhaps some modern trifles of conventional usage.
Nan, who was watching her, though unobserved, led the conversation around to subjects in which Christine might be likely to be interested, and was rewarded at last by seeing the girl’s face light up with an enjoyment unmarred by self-consciousness.
Gradually she was induced to take some part in their talk, and once she told an anecdote of her own experience without seeming aware of her unusual surroundings.