Mrs. Morris carried her points, as usual. Money was borrowed; the dress was made over; the guests were invited; and the Morris party, with its flowers and supper and display, was the talk of the hour, till it was forgotten in the next sensation.
Mrs. Morris had to go to the seashore every year, because her neighbors did. She left her comfortable home; and for six weeks, while Mr. Morris lived as best he could, she had the joy of staying in a small, inconvenient, unattractive room at a hotel, where she was kept awake by noise in the corridors, missed the refreshing shade of her own trees at home, and was more tired at the end of the season than at the beginning.
Mrs. Morris had to enlarge her house by a music-room and a library, because her neighbors did. She read little, but a library was a good thing to have. It made one seem intellectual. She was somewhat intelligent, but superficial. As for music, she did not play much; but sometimes her guests did, and a music-room was an attraction.
Mrs. Morris had to have a good pew in church, for she desired to be eminently respectable. She had to give occasionally, or be thought mean. She must be seen now and then at concerts, operas, and lectures, or she would not be in good society.
She had to have a horse and carriage, as these were needed for making calls. She was obliged to keep servants, because she was so busy with social life. Had her visits been among the poor or the unfortunate, they might have helped the world; but her time now was spent simply for her own social pleasure, and with the thought, perhaps, that she was adding to Mr. Morris’s popularity. He cared for his home, however, far more than for the outside world, and would have been happier had he been permitted to enjoy it.
Mrs. Morris, by persistent effort and tact, had become quite a social leader. It never seemed to occur to her that, when people lived beyond their means, there must sometime be a settlement.
This came one day when Mr. Morris was severely injured by a street-car, lingered for several months, and then died. It was a great blow to Mrs. Morris in more ways than one. When the income ceased the house was sold to pay borrowed money, the parties and suppers were over, the fine clothes disappeared, and with them Mrs. Morris’s position in society. The world forgot her. It was a hard lesson to learn, but a lesson that many women have learned to their sorrow. Yet many must travel the old road of experience.