Almost the first persons at the theatre on whom Selma's eyes rested were the Gregory Williamses. They were in a box with two other people, and both Flossy and her husband were talking with the festive air peculiar to those who are willing to be noticed and conscious that their wish is being gratified. Flossy wore a gay bonnet and a stylish frock, supplemented by a huge bunch of violets, and her husband's evening dress betrayed a slight exaggeration of the prevailing fashion in respect to his standing collar and necktie. Selma had never had a thorough look at him before, and she reflected that he was decidedly impressive and handsome. His face was full and pleasant, his mustache large and gracefully curved, and his figure manly. His most distinguishing characteristic was a dignity of bearing uncommon in so young a man, suggesting that he carried, if not the destiny of republics on his shoulders, at least, important financial secrets in his brain. The man and woman with them were almost elderly and gave the effect of being strangers to the city. They were Mr. and Mrs. Silas S. Parsons. Mr. Parsons was a prosperous Western business man, who now and then visited New York, and who had recently become a customer of Williams's. He had dealt in the office where Williams was a clerk, and, having taken a fancy to him, was disposed to help the new firm. Gregory had invited them to dinner and to the theatre, by way of being attentive, and had taken a box instead of stalls, in order to make his civility as magnificent as the occasion would permit. A box, besides being a delicate testimonial to his guest, would cause the audience to notice him and his wife and to ask who they were.
In the gradual development of the social appetite in this country a certain class has been evolved whose drawing-room is the floor of the leading theatres. Society consists for them chiefly in being present often at theatrical performances in sumptuous dress, not merely to witness the play, but to be participants in a social function which enhances their self-esteem. To be looked at and to look on these occasions takes the place with them of balls and dinner parties. They are not theatregoers in the proper sense, but social aspirants, and the boxes and stalls are for them an arena in which for a price they can show themselves in their finery and attractions, for lack of other opportunities.
Our theatres are now in the full blaze of this harmless appropriation for quasi-ballroom uses. At the time when Selma was a New York bride the movement was in its infancy. The people who went to the theatre for spectacular purposes no less than to see the actors on the stage were comparatively few in number. Still the device was practised, and from the very fact that it was not freely employed, was apt to dazzle the eyes of the uninitiated public more unreservedly than to-day. The sight of Mrs. Williams in a box, in the glory of her becoming frock and her violets, caused even so stern a patriot and admirer of simplicity as Selma to seize her husband's arm and whisper:
"Look." What is more she caught herself a moment later blushing with satisfaction on account of the friendly bow which was bestowed on her.
Wilbur Littleton's ambitions were so definite and congenial that the sight of his neighbors' splendor neither offended nor irritated him. He did not feel obliged to pass judgment on them while deriving amusement from their display, nor did he experience any qualms of regret that he was not able to imitate them. He regarded Flossy and her husband with the tolerant gaze of one content to allow other people to work out their salvation, without officious criticism, provided he were allowed the same privilege, and ready to enjoy any features of the situation which appealed to his sense of humor or to his human sympathy. Flossy's frank, open nod and ingenuous face won his favor at once, especially as he appreciated that she and Selma had found each other attractive, and though he tabooed luxury and fashionable paraphernalia where he was immediately concerned, it occurred to him that this evidently wide-awake, vivacious-looking couple might, as friends, introduce just the right element of variety into their lives. He had no wish to be a banker himself, nor to hire boxes at the theatre, but he was disposed to meet half-way these entertaining and gorgeous neighbors.
Selma, in spite of her wish to watch the play, found her glance returning again and again to the occupants of the box, though she endeavored to dispose of the matter by remarking presently that she could not understand why people should care to make themselves so conspicuous, particularly as the seats in the boxes were less desirable for seeing the stage than their own.
"We wouldn't care for it, but probably it's just what they like," said Wilbur. "Some society reporter may notice them; in which case we shall see in the Sunday newspaper that Mr. Gregory Williams and party occupied a private box at the Empire Theatre last Tuesday evening, which will be another straw toward helping them to carry out their project of attracting attention. I like the face of your new friend, my dear. I mean to say that she looks unaffected and honest, and as if she had a sense of humor. With those three virtues a woman can afford to have some faults. I suppose she has hers."
Littleton felt that Selma was disposed to fancy her neighbor, but was restrained by conscientious scruples due to her dislike for society concerns. He had fallen in love with and married his wife because he believed her to be free from and superior to the petty weaknesses of the feminine social creed; but though extremely proud of her uncompromising standards, he had begun to fear lest she might indulge her point of view so far as to be unjust. Her scornful references from time to time to those who had made money and occupied fine houses had wounded his own sense of justice. He had endeavored to explain that virtue was not the exclusive prerogative of the noble-minded poor, and now he welcomed an opportunity of letting her realize from personal experience that society was not so bad as it was painted.
Selma returned Mrs. Williams's call during the week, but did not find her at home. A few days later arrived a note stamped with a purple and gold monogram inviting them to dinner. When the evening arrived they found only a party of four. A third couple had given out at the last minute, so they were alone with their hosts. The Williams house in its decoration and upholstery was very different from their own. The drawing-room was bright with color. The furniture was covered with light blue plush; there were blue and yellow curtains, gay cushions, and a profusion of gilt ornamentation. A bear-skin, a show picture on an easel, and a variety of florid bric-à-brac completed the brilliant aspect of the apartment. Selma reflected at once that that this was the sort of drawing-room which would have pleased her had she been given her head and a full purse. It suggested her home at Benham refurnished by the light of her later experience undimmed by the shadow of economy. On the way down to dinner she noticed in the corner of the hall a suit of old armor, and she was able to perceive that the little room on one side of the front door, which they learned subsequently was Mr. Williams's den, contained Japanese curiosities. The dinner-table shone with glass and silver ware, and was lighted by four candles screened by small pink shades. By the side of Flossy's plate and her own was a small bunch of violets, and there was a rosebud for each of the men. The dinner, which was elaborate, was served by two trig maids. There were champagne and frozen pudding. Selma felt almost as if she were in fairy-land. She had never experienced anything just like this before; but her exacting conscience was kept at bay by the reflection that this must be a further manifestation of the New York manner, and her self-respect was propitiated by the cordiality of her entertainers. The conversation was bubbling and light-hearted on the part of both Mr. and Mrs. Williams. They kept up a running prattle on the current fads of the day, the theatre, the doings of well-known social personages, and their own household possessions, which they naïvely called to the attention of their guests, that they might be admired. But Selma enjoyed more than the general conversation her talk with the master of the house, who possessed all the friendly suavity of his wife and also the valuable masculine trait of seeming to be utterly absorbed in any woman to whom he was talking. Gregory had a great deal of manner and a confidential fluency of style, which gave distinction even to commonplace remarks. His method did not condescend to nudging when he wished to note a point, but it fell only so far short of it as he thought social elegance required. His conversation presently drifted, or more properly speaking, flowed into a graphic and frank account of his own progress as a banker. He referred to past successful undertakings, descanted on his present roseate responsibilities, and hinted sagely at impending operations which would eclipse in importance any in which he had hitherto been engaged. In answer to Selma's questions he discoursed alluringly concerning the methods of the Stock Exchange, and gave her to understand that for an intelligent and enterprising man speculation was the high road to fortune. No doubt for fools and for people of mediocre or torpid abilities it was a dangerous trade; but for keen and bold intellects what pursuit offered such dazzling opportunities?
Selma listened, abhorrent yet fascinated. It worried her to be told that what she had been accustomed to regard as gambling should be so quickly and richly rewarded. Yet the fairy scene around her manifestly confirmed the prosperous language of her host and left no room for doubt that her neighbors were making brilliant progress. Apparently, too, this business of speculation and of vast combinations of railroad and other capital, the details of which were very vague to her, was, in his opinion, the most desirable and profitable of callings.