The Miss Finlaysons came up at intervals and introduced young men to her in a spasmodic sort of way. When one least expected it, some one in a tall hat and a long frock-coat was placed before Palestrina, and a Miss Finlayson said quite sharply, "May I introduce—Mr. Smith——" and then as suddenly retired. There was nothing for it but to make a little tepid conversation to the various Mr. Smiths, and Sonnenscheins, and Seligmanns who were in this way presented, and we noticed that almost every one of them began his conversation by saying, "Been going out a great deal lately? Done the Academy?" And then moved off to be introduced to some one else.
The young men were very supercilious and grand, and we could only account for it, on discussing the matter afterwards, by supposing that they thought Palestrina was a Clarkham young lady, and that this was their way of showing their superiority to her. One or two had certainly said to us with a dubious air, "Do you live in the Pork?" But it was not until the quieter moments that followed the stress of this regal party that we at all realized that this meant, Did we live in Clarkham Park.
Kate Ward was very agreeable and pleasant to every one, and was voted a nobody directly, and we heard it remarked that she had "no style." I think Kate must have overheard the remark, for she became a little nervous towards the end of the afternoon, and presently said, "Perhaps we ought to be going?" But young Finlayson was here suddenly introduced to her by one of his sisters, and Kate thought it necessary to make a few remarks before saying good-bye. She said something pretty about his sisters, who are undoubtedly handsome girls, and Mr. Finlayson said bitterly, "Yes, a good many so-called beauties in London would have to shut up shop if my sisters appeared in the Row. It is a beastly shame they have got to live down here!"
Kate said, "But I suppose they go to town occasionally?"
"Yes," said Mr. Finlayson; "but they ought to have their Park hacks, and do things in style. It is a shame the governor does not take a house in the West End."
My sister tried to look sympathetic.
"However," said Mr. Finlayson more hopefully, "we have taken a bit of a shoot in Scotland this year, so I hope the girls will have some society. Well, it is a deer forest really, and a very fine house and grounds," amended Mr. Finlayson, with a burst of candour.
Mrs. Finlayson sailed up, and stooped to make a few remarks about the gaiety of the past season to us. She said that she and her daughters were in demand everywhere, and that the other night in a West End theatre every lorgnette in the house was turned towards their box. "Rupert, of course, has his own chambers in St. James's, and knows every one."
The Miss Finlaysons shook hands, and said good-bye with their usual lofty condescension, and each said, "Going on anywhere?" to which we could only reply humbly that we had no further engagements for that afternoon.
Kate praised the party all the way home, and then said, with a burst of feeling: "Oh, how I do wish I were a swell! I know it's wicked, but I would snub one or two people."