“Dear me, why?” asked Mr. Moulton. “Are you coming out, Mary?”
“No, sir; never, I imagine,” said Mary. “I’m out, or I never shall be out; I don’t know which it is. We children were born knowing everybody in old Vineclad, so there’s no society for us to be introduced to; we’ve been asked to places with you ever since we could walk. But mother is getting restless; she needs amusing. We have to give a party, a tea—no, a garden party; to get her introduced to her neighbours.”
“I see! Why should that afflict you, Mistress Mary?” asked Mr. Moulton.
“Everything is so turned about!” cried Mary. “We’ve got to invite people to meet our mother. Who ever heard of girls doing that? And—do you suppose we can make it a nice party? And isn’t it ridiculous for us to ask people? Yet mother doesn’t want to, because no one has yet called on her—except you, and you are our own! Wouldn’t it be better if you sent out the invitations, Mrs. Moulton?”
“I invite people to your house to meet your mother, my dear? Hardly! Send your invitations and don’t worry. I see you are afraid that Vineclad society may bore your mother. There is a consolation in Vineclad, as there is almost always a good side to a drawback! If Vineclad is dull it is because it is so small and old-fashioned, and, for that very reason, it will not misunderstand you, nor be critical of the peculiarities of your party. I think you may safely count upon a pleasant afternoon, my dear,” Mrs. Moulton reassured her.
“Mother has a beautiful gown for a garden party, which she wants to wear. She has worn it but once, to Lord Balindale’s coming-of-age celebration, in England. He’s an earl, Mrs. Moulton! And for the second time she is to wear it here. Doesn’t it sound rather awful?” Mary asked.
“I haven’t heard a description of it, Mary,” said Mrs. Moulton dryly. “I doubt that your mother would have an awful gown. Of course you can’t mean that you are overpowered by its having been worn on a superior occasion? No good American admits superior occasions—at least not titled superiors. And, if it came to that, my child, the original Garden bore a title and renounced it, when he came here, for conscientious reasons. Doesn’t that offset the incense of past glories which that gown may waft?”
“Yes, it does. I knew that about the first Garden, but I haven’t thought of it for a long time,” laughed Mary. “To tell the truth, it isn’t the earl’s party in itself that worries me: it’s only that I do so want mother to be happy here!”
“Surely, dear,” said Mr. Moulton gently. “Your mother is easily won by kindness. After she has fluttered a while, restlessly, she will settle down in our blest Garden spot. She is more of a child than any one of her children, I think.”
“So do I!” cried Mary. “I would never think of going to her with bothers, as I do to you. We all feel that we must protect her, even that witch of a Florimel feels it. Then you think our party will be all right, and I may go on and make out the list of invitations? Will you help me with that, Mrs. Moulton? I think we ought not to ask a few, as I thought at first. I think it would be right to ask everybody we know, not just our own set; then mother will really be introduced to Vineclad.”