“Three hundred if she weighs a pound,” insisted Ruth’s mother. “Why, when she came the other day to call on our cook, the rocking-chair in the maid’s sitting-room collapsed under her.”
“And shall that be attributed to her for unrighteousness?” asked the rector.
“Now, Mr. Farrar,” remonstrated the hostess, “don’t try to evade the issue. You know what I’m driving at. Your ideas of social equality are perfectly ridiculous, I declare! Perfectly ridiculous!”
Mr. Farrar made no attempt to defend himself. Nor did he feel in the least hurt. He was quite accustomed to Mrs. Tracy’s blunt, direct way of expressing her opinions. He knew, moreover, that she had the kindest of hearts, and always tempered her criticism with great mercy for her victim.
“Mother’s afraid,” said Ruth, “that in the new régime she’ll have to wear a calico gown and a green sunbonnet to church, so as not to arouse the envy of the proletarians.”
“And you’ll have to wear them forever, in the New Jerusalem,” retorted Mrs. Tracy, “if you keep on consorting with the lower classes here.”
Then Judge and Mrs. Bosworth came, closely followed by Barry and Miss Chichester; and Mr. Tracy, having finally gotten into his evening coat, joined the group in the library.
Every one was cordial to the rector, and more than cordial to the rector’s wife. The party bade fair to be all that Mrs. Tracy and Ruth had hoped for it. No untoward event occurred, and no unfortunate remark was made, until the dinner had been more than half served. Then it was Barry Malleson who blundered, as it might have been expected that he would, into what should have been forbidden ground.
He turned to Judge Bosworth, who was sitting diagonally across the table from him and said:
“This is the first opportunity I have had, Judge, to compliment you on the masterly way in which you wound up that Bradley case against us. As vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company I feel personally grateful to you. You will kindly accept my thanks.”