“Yes, certainly,” the colonel said, abstractedly, as he beat the tip of his boot with his riding-whip. “I don’t think there’s ever been a thing like it at Schuyler Hill, but have it by all means, if Mrs. Schuyler signified the least desire for it.”
The colonel’s chestnut mare was pawing the turf, impatient to be off, and bowing stiffly to the rector, Col. Schuyler mounted her and galloped toward home, where he was met by Julia and Miss Rossiter, who plunged at once into the obnoxious society, which they trusted he would veto. Miss Rossiter was the principal speaker, and she said that Mrs. Schuyler could not understand or appreciate her position as his wife, if she wished such a mixture of people to come there, trampling on their velvet carpets and spilling cream on their handsome furniture.
“And, Howard, you may just as well be master of your own house first as last, unless you wish an entire new element introduced into your social relations.”
The colonel himself had been a little disturbed about the society, not knowing exactly whether it were au fait, but something in Miss Rossiter’s manner angered him, as it implied reproach to Edith, and he roused at once in her defence and said he had seen Mr. Marks, who alone was responsible if there was anything wrong in the affair; that he had given his consent and should not withdraw it, but should expect his daughters to do whatever was necessary to make the gathering a success. That settled it, and Miss Rossiter took one of her headaches and retired to her room and did not appear at dinner, where with a stern glance at Julia, whose face was cloudy and dark, the colonel said to his wife:
“Ah, my dear, I met Mr. Marks, who persuaded me into having the Sewing Society, or something of that kind, with sponge-cake and cream, at our house next week, provided you do not object.”
“Not at all; I told him I did not,” Edith replied, and the colonel continued:
“Then, my daughter,” turning to Julia, “see that Mrs. Tiffe has everything in readiness.”
Julia bowed, while Godfrey dropped his fork and almost hurrahed in his surprise. He knew what a Church Sociable with sponge-cake and cream meant; he had attended more than one in Hampstead, and danced with every girl there, and every forlorn, neglected woman who wanted a partner, but he had never dreamed of bringing the mixed assemblage across that aristocratic threshold, and lo it was coming without his aid, and he was delighted, and he invited every man, woman and child in town, and came to me with a beaming face and told me the good news, and asked if I would play the piano for them, and said he would get two or three musicians to accompany me and have a “smashing time.”
“It will be enough sight nicer than the party was,” he said to his sisters, when, on Sunday after the notice had been given out, they were discussing it and expressing their contempt for the whole thing. “Folks will enjoy themselves at a sociable; they always do, and they don’t get drunk either, as that puppy Tom Barton did, nor stay all night; they go home at a Christian hour. I know; I’ve been to them and it is great fun, I tell you. I mean to dance with Mrs. Vandeusenhisen, too, if she is here. You ought to see Widow Barringer and Nat. Allen. They take all the steps, and do not mince along as some girls I know of They dance, I tell you.”
“Oh, Godfrey, how can you talk and act so low,” Julia said; but before Godfrey could reply Edith joined the group, which in consequence was soon after broken up.