The departure of the Williamses to a smarter neighborhood was a trial for Selma. She nursed the dispiriting reflection that she and Wilbur might just as well be moving also; that a little foresight and shrewdness on her husband's part would have enabled him to sell at a handsome profit the house in which they were living; and that there was no reason, except the sheer, happy faculty of making the most of opportunities, to account for the social recognition which Flossy and her husband were beginning to receive. It had not been easy to bear with equanimity during the last year the ingenuous, light-hearted warblings in which Flossy had indulged as an outlet to her triumphant spirits, and to listen to naïve recitals of new progress, as though she herself were a companion or ladies' maid, to whom such developments could never happen. She was weary of being merely a recipient of confidences and a sympathetic listener, and more weary still of being regarded as such by her self-absorbed and successful neighbor. Why should Flossy be so dense? Why should she play second fiddle to Flossy? Why should Flossy take for granted that she did not intend to keep pace with her? Keep pace, indeed, when, if circumstances would only shape themselves a little differently, she would be able speedily to outstrip her volatile friend in the struggle for social preferment.
Not unnaturally their friendship had been somewhat strained by the simmering of these thoughts in Selma's bosom. If a recipient of confidences becomes tart or cold, ingenuous prattle is apt to flow less spontaneously. Though Flossy was completely self-absorbed, and consequently glad to pour out her satisfaction into a sympathetic ear, she began to realize that there was something amiss with her friend which mere conscientious disapproval of her own frivolities did not adequately explain. It troubled her somewhat, for she liked the Littletons and was proud of her acquaintance with them. However, she was conscious of having acquitted herself toward them with liberality, and, especially now that her social vista was widening, she was not disposed at first to analyze too deeply the cause of the lack of sympathy between them. That is, she was struck by Selma's offish manner and frigid silences, but forgot them until they were forced upon her attention the next time they met. But as her friend continued to receive her bubbling announcements with stiff indifference, Flossy, in her perplexity, began to bend her acute mental faculties more searchingly on her idol. A fixed point of view will keep a shrine sacred forever, but let a worshipper's perspective be altered, and it is astonishing how different the features of divinity will appear. Flossy had worshipped with the eyes of faith. Now that her adoration was rejected without apparent cause, her curiosity was piqued, and she sought an interpretation of the mystery from her clever wits. As she observed Selma more dispassionately her suspicion was stirred, and she began to wonder if she had been burning incense before a false goddess. This doubt was agitating her mind at the time when they moved from the street.
Selma was unconscious of the existence of this doubt as she had been largely unconscious of her own sour demeanor. She had no wish to lose the advantages of intimate association with the Williamses. On the contrary, she expected to make progress on her own account by admission into their new social circle. She went promptly to call, and saw fit to show herself tactfully appreciative of the new establishment and more ready to listen to Flossy's volubility. Flossy, who was radiant and bubbling over with fresh experiences which she was eager to impart, was glad to dismiss her doubt and to give herself up to the delights of unbridled speech. She took Selma over her new house, which had been purchased just as it stood, completely furnished, from the previous owner, who had suffered financial reverses. "Gregory bought it because it was really a bargain," she said. "It will do very well for the present, but we intend to build before long. I am keeping my eye on your husband, and am expecting great things from the Parsons house. Do you know, I believe in Mr. Littleton, and feel sure that some day we shall wake up and find him famous."
This was amiable, particularly as Flossy was very busily engaged in contemplating the brilliant progress of Gregory Williams and his wife. But Selma returned home feeling sore and dissatisfied. Flossy had been gracious, but still dense and naïvely condescending. Selma chose to foresee that her friend would neglect her, and her foresight was correct. The call was not returned for many weeks, although Flossy had assured her when they separated that distance would make no difference in their intimacy. But in the first place, her doubts recurred to Flossy after the departure of her visitor, and in the second, the agitations incident to her new surroundings, fortified by these doubts, made neglect easy. When she did call, Selma happened to be out. A few days later an invitation to dine with the Williamses arrived. Selma would have preferred to remain at home as a rebuke, but she was miserably conscious that Flossy would not perceive the point of the refusal. So she went, and was annoyed when she realized that the guests were only people whom she knew already—the Parsonses, and some of Gregory Williams's former associates, whom she had met at the old house. It was a pleasant dinner, apparently, to all except Selma. The entertainment was flatteringly lavish, and both the host and hostess with suavity put in circulation, under the rose, the sentiment that there are no friends like old friends—a graceful insincerity which most of them present accepted as true. Indeed, in one sense it was not an insincerity, for Gregory and his wife entertained cordial feelings toward them all. But on the other hand, Selma's immediate and bitter conclusion was also true, that the company had been invited together for the reason that, in the opinion of Flossy, they would not have harmonized well with anyone else.
Said Wilbur as they drove away from the house—"Barring a few moments of agony in the society of my tormentor, Mrs. Parsons, I had a pleasant evening. They were obviously potting their old acquaintance in one pie, but to my thinking it was preferable to being sandwiched in between some of their new friends whom we do not know and who know nothing of us. It was a little evident, but on the whole agreeable."
Selma, shrouded in her wraps, made no reply at first. Suddenly she exclaimed, with, fierceness, "I consider it rank impertinence. It was as much as to say that they do not think us good enough to meet their new friends."
Littleton, who still found difficulty in remembering that his wife would not always enjoy the humor of an equivocal situation, was sorry that he had spoken. "Come, Selma," he said, "there's no use in taking that view of the matter. You would not really care to meet the other people."
"Yes, I would, and she knows it. I shall never enter her house again."
"As to that, my dear, the probabilities are that we shall not be asked for some time. You know perfectly well that, in the nature of things, your intimacy with Mrs. Williams must languish now that she lives at a distance and has new surroundings. She may continue to be very fond of you, but you can't hope to see very much of her, unless I am greatly mistaken in her character."
"She is a shallow little worldling," said Selma, with measured intensity.