By the time they reached the solid house on Murray Hill the party was already on the wane and the guests had begun, in a motley stream, to leave. Mrs. Champion and her daughters disappeared among the first after Mrs. Callendar had the audacity to bring forward the artists and beg them to join the guests. The Russian tenor stood awkwardly alone and in a corner and the tiny dancer, in a turban and gown of crimson and gold brocade, sat surrounded by young men. She had learned the business of entertaining during those early days in Alexandria.
25
THE prediction of young Callendar came true, for in the morning, while Ellen sat in a purple wrapper practising her scales, the bell rang suddenly and into the room came Mrs. Callendar, dressed coquettishly in a very tight black suit, a hat much too large for her short, plump figure, and a voluminous stole of sable. The climb up the two flights of stairs above the elevator had been very nearly too much for her and she greeted Ellen with much panting and blowing.
“Good morning, my dear,” she said. “I hope you’re none the worse for last night’s experience.”
Ellen smiled respectfully and bade her guest seat herself in the padded arm chair that was the property of Clarence. “I’m all right again. I can’t imagine what could have made me faint. I’m sorry. It must have spoiled the party.”
At this Mrs. Callendar, settling herself in the chair, chuckled, “Not at all. Not at all. They’ll talk of it for days. You could not have done better. It was dramatic ... dramatic.”
“I’m all right. You needn’t have come. It is good of you.”
“Perhaps you lace too tightly,” suggested Mrs. Callendar, returning to the subject of Ellen’s collapse.
“I don’t lace at all,” said Ellen. “I can’t play if I’m all boxed in.”
Mrs. Callendar threw back her stole and nodded her head sagely. “You’re much wiser, my dear. Much wiser. When I was a girl I was famous for my waist. Sixteen inches it was ... only sixteen inches.” And she brought together her plump fingers in a gesture which implied that once she might have encircled her waist with her two hands. “But I fainted.... I used to faint daily. I don’t lace tightly any more, but it makes no difference. It’s just stayed that way. You see, my corsets are quite loose.” And she thrust a finger into the space between her ample bosom and her corset to prove her statement. “I know my figure is bad in these days. Too many curves and too little height. But I’m past forty and it doesn’t matter so much.”