The newspapers were devoting much space to Mrs. Trenton’s impending visit. On Saturday and Sunday her portrait adorned the society pages, accompanied by sketches of her life and activities in the feminist cause that did full justice to her distinguished ancestry and high social connections. In the Durland home Mrs. Trenton continued to be a fruitful subject of discussion. There were things which Ethel thought should be said to Mrs. Trenton. She even considered asking Dr. Ridgely to say them,—a proposition which Grace derided and Mrs. Durland did not encourage. Ethel was further inspired with the idea that a committee of the best women of the city should wait upon Mrs. Trenton and try to convince her of the dangerous character of the doctrines she was advocating.
“You’re taking it altogether too seriously,” said Grace. “I don’t suppose that woman’s ever made a single convert. About so many people have always held her ideas—about marriage and things like that. The real radicals probably look on her as a huge joke. A woman who visits at Newport and goes cruising on yachts doesn’t just put herself clear outside the social breastworks. There are other, women besides Mrs. Trenton who talk free love and birth control and things like that just for the excitement and the attention they get.”
“They should be locked up, every one of them!” Ethel declared. “I’m ashamed for our city that she can come here and be received by people you’d expect better things of, and be allowed to speak. The police should stop it!”
“Well, she can’t ruin the town with one lecture,” Grace replied good-naturedly. “The Twentieth Century Club brings all sorts of lunatics here and the members are about the most conservative people in town. You couldn’t change the minds of any of them any more than you could knock over the soldiers’ monument with a feather duster.”
III
Grace got excused from the store at five o’clock on Tuesday to give herself ample time to prepare for the dinner.
“That’s the prettiest gown you ever wore, dear,” Mrs. Durland exclaimed when Grace was fully arrayed. “I’m glad you didn’t have your hair marcelled; that little natural wave is prettier than anything the hairdresser could do. Carried straight away from your forehead as you’ve got it gives just the right effect. I guess Miss Reynolds needn’t be ashamed of you. You’ve got the look of breeding, Grace; nobody could fail to see that. Just be careful not to talk too much, not even if Mrs. Trenton says brash things you feel like disputing with her. And if you get a chance to speak to Judge Sanders without appearing to drag it in you might say you’re the great-granddaughter of Josiah B. Morley. Little things like that do count, you know.”
“Yes, of course,” Grace assented, as she studied the hang of her skirt before the mirror.
Ethel came in and seated herself on the bed to watch Grace’s preparations. Osgood Haley had walked home with her and she was in the mood of subdued exaltation to which the young man’s company frequently brought her. She apologized to her mother for being late; she and Osgood had prolonged the walk by taking a turn in the park but she would make up to her for the delay by doing all of the supper work.
“That dress really is becoming to you, Grace,” she said in a fervor of magnanimity. “It sets you off beautifully. You must tell us all about the party. I hope you won’t let anything I said about Mrs. Trenton spoil the evening for you. You know I’m always glad when any happiness comes to you.”