After giving the dinner Mills waited a little before venturing further in his attempt to lift the social sky line for the Hardens. Much as he disliked Constance, he was just the least bit afraid of her. Constance was not stupid, and he was not blind to the fact that she wielded a certain influence. His daughter-in-law could easily further his plans for imparting dignity to the Hardens. And he foresaw that if he married again it would be Connie, not Shepherd or Leila, who would resent the marriage as a complicating circumstance when the dread hour arrived for the parceling of his estate. Leila would probably see little more than a joke in a marriage that would make her best friend her stepmother.
“Why isn’t Millie in the Dramatic Club?” he asked Leila one day when they were dining alone together.
“Not so easy, Dada. I talked to some of the membership committee about it last spring and I have a sneaking idea that they don’t want her. Not just that, of course; it’s not Millie but the patent medicine they can’t swallow. I think the club’s a bore myself. There’s a bunch of girls in it—Connie’s one of them—who think they’re Ethel Barrymores and Jane Cowlses, and Millie, you know, might be a dangerous rival. Which she would be, all right! So they kid themselves with the idea that the club really stands for the real old graveyard society of our little village and that they’ve got to be careful who gets by.”
“How ridiculous!” Mills murmured.
“Silly! I do hate snobs! Millie isn’t asked to a lot of the nicest parties just because she’s new in town. Doctor Harden’s guyed a good deal about his fake medicines. I don’t see anything wrong with Doc myself.” Leila bent her head in a quick way she had when mirth seized her. “Bud Henderson says the Harden hair tonic’s the smoothest furniture polish on the market.”
Mills laughed, but not heartily. The thought of Henderson’s ridicule chilled him. Henderson entertained a wide audience with his humor; he must be cautious....
II
Leila was an impossible young democrat, utterly devoid of the sense of social values. He must make an ally of Constance. Connie always wanted something; it was one of Connie’s weaknesses to want things. Connie’s birthday falling in the second week in December gave him a hint. Leila had mentioned the anniversary and reminded her father that he usually made Connie a present. Connie expected presents and was not satisfied with anything cheap.
Mills had asked a New York jeweler to send out some pearls from which to make a selection for a Christmas present for Leila. They were still in his vault at the office. He chose from the assortment a string of pearls with a diamond pendant and bestowed it upon his daughter-in-law on the morning of her birthday. He had made her handsome presents before, but nothing that pleased her so much as this.
While Connie’s gratitude was still warm, Mills found occasion to mention Millicent one evening when he was dining at Shepherd’s. Leila had been asked to some function to which Millicent was not bidden. Mills made the very natural comment that it was unfortunate that Millicent, intimate as she was with Leila, could not share all her pleasures; the discrimination against the Hardens’ daughter was unjust. Quick to see what was expected of her, Constance replied that it was Millicent’s own fault that she hadn’t been taken up more generally. It was perhaps out of loyalty to her parents that she had not met more responsively the advances of women who, willing to accept Millicent, yet couldn’t quite see her father and mother in the social picture. Now that she thought of it, Constance herself had never called on Mrs. Harden, but she would do so at once. There was no reason at all why Millicent shouldn’t be admitted to the Dramatic Club; she would see to that. She thought the impression had got around that Millicent was, if not Bohemian in her sympathies, at least something of a nonconformist in her social ideas. It was her artistic nature, perhaps.