“It is just on the cards that she may invite you to Scotland for a fortnight at the end of August. There’s great fun at Dunkeldie every year. And any amount of competition to get there. But in the meantime, if one may offer a hint, you’ll see that nobody spikes your guns. Some of your American friends are out on the warpath.”
“No friends of mine. Spiteful cats, mainly, and I don’t seem to mind letting some of them know it.”
“Well, I don’t think I would if I were you. They can do you more harm than you can do them.”
Mame saw the truth of that. “But they don’t love me, these birds. And I’d just like to shoot them all on sight.”
Lady Violet laughed at the fierceness. But she well understood her feelings. Certain distinguished members of the American colony were giving trouble. Du Rance was a name unknown in Chicago. It was unknown in Washington. It was unknown in New York.
“Make hay while the sun shines, my dear.” That was the sum of Lady Violet’s wisdom. It was a great stroke of luck being in with Aunt Emily. She was one of the few people who still really counted. But Pressure was being brought to bear. Miss Du Rance had not been presented. Her credentials had not been verified. Doubt had even been cast upon the wealth of Poppa.
The woman of the world let fall a hint that several partis were about, who in their way were not unattractive.
“You kinda think I ought to put myself in solid.” Mame had a touch of that crude force which some people found so engaging and other people didn’t.
“No saying when the luck may change. One can never quite depend on Aunt Emily. She might be got at. Our friend Mrs. Creber Newsum is out for blood. I don’t know what you’ve done to the lady, but from what one hears she’s got quite an edge on her tomahawk.”
“That old squaw!” said the contemptuous Mame. “I’m not afraid of her.”