“Their manners are not strictly conventional, I believe.”
“And their language is that of the slums.”
“But they have had no mother to guide them, poor things,” explained Marion. “At times they are very winning and companionable, and I am sure they will behave nicely at my lawn fête.”
“Very well, dear,” sighed the lady; “invite them if you wish to. This was once their home, you remember. After all, it would not be quite right to exclude the Darings from your little affair.”
It may have seemed a “little affair” in the eyes of the blasé society woman, but it was not so to the people of Riverdale, by any means. A brass band of fifteen pieces came from the city by the noon train, and their uniforms were so gorgeous as to create tremendous excitement. Tents had been erected upon the lawn and a force of extra servants employed to prepare and serve the refreshments. The ample grounds were crossed in every direction by strings of unique Japanese lanterns, and in the early evening there was to be dancing to the music of the band.
It was but natural that every young person in town who had received an invitation was filled with joyful anticipation. “From five until nine,” the cards read, and it was hard work for Cousin Judith to control the younger Darings until the hour arrived. Sue insisted upon being dressed directly after dinner, and when arrayed in her new muslin with the cherry ribbons she found such difficulty in keeping still that Judith was fearful Sue would ruin the frock before five o’clock. Rebecca had a new gown, too, and Donald a new suit of clothes. When, finally, the children observed several arrivals at the reception tent on the lawn opposite, which they had carefully watched all afternoon from the dining room window, Miss Eliot felt that she could restrain their impatience no longer and away they trooped across the road.
Marion had asked Phœbe and Janet to assist her to receive, for she did not know personally all whom she had invited, while the other girls were of course familiar with every young person in the village. There were no “regrets” that day, you may be sure, for the unusual occasion could not well be disregarded. Eric Spaythe came early, in an elaborate costume fresh from the tailor, and he paid especial attention to Marion whenever her duties left her disengaged. Al Hayden, Toby Clarke, Jed Hopkins and, in fact, every eligible youth in the village, assembled in bashful groups and looked nervously at the bevies of girls and upon their bewildering surroundings. In order to help Marion, Phil tried to “break the ice,” as he said, by bringing the boys and girls together, and when the band struck up a spirited twostep it relieved the strain to a wonderful degree.
Mrs. Randolph kept out of sight, indulgently viewing the scene from a window. Mr. Randolph had not appeared in Riverdale since he brought his family there and settled them in their new home. He was a busy man, with many extensive financial interests, and could not be away from Boston for very long at a time.
Donald, Becky and Sue had promptly joined Doris and Allerton, and as they were a little younger than the majority of Marion’s guests they formed a group of their own.
“It distresses me,” said Doris, plaintively, “to realize how many poor people are suffering, while we revel at this fête; and I cannot help thinking how many deserving families might be relieved from want by means of the money we are squandering to-day upon useless luxuries.”