“He’s a lovely young man,” Mrs. Faithful reiterated. “Oh, what did Beatrice Constantine wear when she came down to the office?”
“Clothes.” Mary was deep in the Sunday paper art section.
“She looked like a Christmas tree on fire,” Luke supplemented. “Lovely butter-coloured hair she has!”
“That will do. She is very nice, but different from our sort.” Mary glanced up from her paper.
Trudy bridled. “She’s no different; she has money. My things have as much style. Gaylord knows her intimately, and he says she is a wretched dancer and pouts if things don’t please her. The best tailors and modistes in the country make her things. Who wouldn’t look well? If I had one tenth of her income I’d be a more Gorgeous Girl than she is––and don’t I wish I had it! Oh, boy! Why, 29 that girl has her maid, the most wonderful jewellery you ever saw, two automobiles of her own and a saddle horse, and her father owns the best apartment house in town, and Beatrice is going to have the best apartment in it when she marries Steve. And you can just bet she knew she was going to marry him a long time ago––because she knew he’d rob the Bank of England to get a fortune. She’s flirted with everyone from an English nobleman to the Prince of Siam, and now she’s marrying the handsomest, brightest, most devoted cave man in the world.” Trudy glanced at Mary. “Yet she doesn’t really care for him, she just wants to be married before she is considered passée.” Trudy was very proud of her occasional French. “She’ll be twenty-six her next birthday!”
“Dear me, girls take their time these days; I was eighteen the day Mr. Faithful led me to the altar.”
“When are you going to get married?” Luke asked Trudy with malice aforethought.
“Oh, I’ll give Mary a chance. She don’t want to dance in the pig trough.”
Mary laid down the paper. “I wish you people would finish eating. Luke, are you going fishing with me out at the old mill? Then you better get the walks swept. We’ll be home in time for dinner, mother. I’ll leave the things as nearly ready as I can. How about you, Trudy?”
“Gay wants me to go to the Boulevard Café––they dance on Sunday just the same as weekdays––and then we’ll do a movie afterward. I suppose Steve and his Beatrice are now revelling in the Constantine conservatory, with Steve walking on all fours to prove his devotion. Why is it some girls have everything? Look at me––no one cares if I live or 30 die. First I had a stepmother, and then I tried living with a great-aunt, and then I went to work. Here I am still working, and a lot of thanks I get for it. I’d like to see the Gorgeous Girl have to work––well, I would!”