Chapter VII
Spring came round again in Herculaneum. People began to go to the tailor and the dress-maker and the hatter. There were witty editorials in the newspapers on house-cleaning and about the man who had the courage to wear the first straw hat. The season (referring to the winter festivities) had been unusually lively. There had been two charity balls by rival hospital boards, receptions, amateur dramatics, dinners and dances, not to omit the announcement of several engagements.
The new Bennington mansion had its house-warming in November. The reception, followed by a dinner-dance in the evening, was, according to the society columns, "one of the social events of the season. The handsomest house in town was a bower of smilax and hothouse roses." Everybody went to the reception, for everybody was more or less curious to meet the former celebrated actress. The society reporters, waiting for their cues, were rather non-committal in their description of the mistress. There was reason. They did not care, at this early stage of the game, to offend the leader by too much praise of a newcomer who had yet to establish herself. Besides, they realized how little their paragraphs would mean to a woman whose portrait had appeared in nearly all the illustrated magazines in the world. Thus, the half-heartedness of the newspapers was equally due to self-consciousness. Society itself, however, was greatly pleased with the beautiful Mrs. Bennington, for she entered with zest into all society's plans. In fact, she threatened to become very popular. The younger element began to call her Mrs. Jack.
Kate was in her element, for to live after this fashion was the one ambition that had survived all seasons. She was like a child with some wonderful new French doll. There was always a crowd of young married people about her, which is a healthy sign. She and Patty became inseparable comrades. They shopped together, went to the matinees, and drove and rode together.
Everything went along smoothly, too smoothly. Fate never permits anything like this to prosper long.
For the first time in her career Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene saw her position menaced. The younger set no longer consulted her as formerly. When, like Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene, a woman has nothing more serious to live for than to organize social affairs, the slightest defection from her ranks is viewed in the light of a catastrophe. She had called on Mrs. Bennington the second, armed with all those subtle cruelties which women of her caliber know so well how to handle. And behold! she met a fencer who quietly buttoned the foils before the bout began. She had finally departed with smiles on her lips and rage in her heart. This actress, whom she had thought to awe with the majesty of her position in Herculaneum, was not awed at all. It was disconcerting; it was humiliating. She had condescended to tolerate and was tolerated in turn. Katherine adored Patty, and Patty had told her that she hated Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene. Naturally Katherine assumed the defensive whenever she met the common enemy.
But Mrs. Haldene could wait. She had waited before this. She had made certain prophecies, and it embittered her to learn that so far none of these prophecies had come true. She could wait. Something was destined to happen, sooner or later. She knew human nature too well not to be expectant. To Mrs. Haldene the most gratifying phrase in the language was: "I told you so!" Warrington had disappointed her, too. He behaved himself. He did not run after young Mrs. Bennington; he never called there alone; he was seen more frequently at the old Bennington place. The truth is, Patty was busy reforming the wayward dramatist, and Warrington was busy watching the result. There were those who nodded and looked wise whenever they saw the two together.
Oh, Herculaneum was a city to be desired, socially. Everybody was on his or her best behavior. It was only from among the poor that scandal gleaned her items for the newspapers. The shooting of such a man by such a woman's husband aroused only the mildest comment. But that class of people, don't you know, is so primeval. To kill a man from jealousy! It was ridiculous. Why did they not go to court, like civilized human beings?
Of course there is always scandal in politics; everybody understands that this is unavoidable. Another franchise had slipped out of the Common Council into the transit company's pocket, and even the partizan papers mildly belabored the aldermanic body. The Evening Call, however slashed the ward representatives vigorously. It wound up its editorial with the query: "How much longer will the public stand this sort of thing?" The Call was the only independent sheet in town, and did about as it pleased.
Warrington found himself taking more than normal interest in the situation. Occasionally, on Monday nights, he wandered into the City Hall and listened to the impassioned speeches of the aldermen. Many a tempestuous scene passed under his notice. Ordinances were passed or blocked, pavement deals were rushed through or sidetracked. And once, when the gas company was menaced with dollar-gas, the city pay-roll was held up for two months by the lighting company's cohorts. Only Heaven knows how much longer it might have been held back, had not an assemblyman come to the mayor's help by rushing up to the capital and railroading through a law that required only a two-thirds vote.