Mr. and Mrs. Deane left the shelter of their comfortable home to suffer in turn the hospitality of each of their married daughters, who holidayed according to their means (i.e., spent a good deal more money than they could afford, and returned home soured by the necessity for retrenchment). Azalea could have gone, too, but there were limits even to her endurance.
The Dillings fell upon her joyously, not only Marjorie and the children, but Raymond.
“You must come home with us,” he cried, “and tell us all the news. Is it true that Pratt is running for the Federal House? I heard a rumour to that effect on the train.”
Azalea nodded.
“You can’t be surprised. This has been his wife’s ambition for years. She’ll achieve it, too, if there’s anything in persistent campaigning. But I’ve something else to say—I wrote you about it a few days ago, before your wire came. The house that Lady Denby has been so keen for you to take, is empty. I have an option on it in your name.”
Marjorie could not suppress an exclamation. The house in question was large, and in her opinion, unduly pretentious. Their living expenses would be more than doubled. It seemed strange to her that people of their modest means should be encouraged—urged, indeed—to make such extravagant outlay. Display of any sort was, in the eyes of Pinto Plains, vulgar, and a cardinal sin upon which her friends felt themselves qualified to sit in judgment, was that of trying to appear above one’s station.
To Marjorie, one of the most amazing features about life in the Capital was the discovery that women who dressed with most conspicuous elegance, lived in impressive style and drove in motor cars, commanded only a Civil Servant’s meagre salary. Later, she learned that over their heads a cloud of debt continually hung, but it caused them no more distress than did the dome of the sky. The infamous credit system in the city was responsible for these moral callouses which she simply could not understand. Debt, to her, was synonymous with dishonesty, and that anyone could become accustomed to living in its shadow, was beyond the limits of her comprehension. It was a shock for her to learn that respected families had unpaid accounts at the large stores extending over a period of twenty years!
Virtually, any tradesman would supply merchandise on account to a Civil Servant, because although the salary could no longer be garnisheed, they hoped that a small payment would be snipped with regularity from the infallible Governmental cheque.
“Why don’t you buy a set of sectional bookcases for your husband’s books?” asked Azalea’s sister, Flossie, during the progress of a call.
Marjorie’s reply was ingenuous, naively truthful. “We’ve been under so much expense lately,” she said, “I felt that I couldn’t afford them.”