I could have knocked down the impertinent fellows, but, after all, what right had I to do it? It was all true. “Noblesse oblige,” I muttered through my clinched teeth; and catching Mrs. Slater’s stern glance, I went to do my duty by taking my partner to supper.
At the close of the evening Mr. Slater came up to me. He was certainly a dignified-looking old fellow, but he seemed unhappy. “Well, Mr. Valentine,” he said, with rather a melancholy smile, “you have done remarkably well. Been quite the life of the evening. Trying thing to entertain a party of this size. This is the first time we have done it. How do you think it went off? Your candid opinion now.”
“Remarkably well,” I said.
I noticed that his manner to me was secret and confidential, as if we had entered into some dark partnership of crime.
“Mrs. Slater,” he continued, “is an ambitious woman, and it was her idea having you. She wanted a different style of young man from those we have been accustomed to, and”—looking at me with a sad pride—“she got it—she got it.”
As I looked at him his face seemed to grow more familiar. At this moment Miss Raggles, who had gone up-stairs to get her cloak, made her appearance. I bade a hurried good-night to Mr. and Mrs. Slater, and accompanied the young lady home. She lived in that part of Fifth Avenue which is on the confines of both New York and Harlem. She treated me as a distinguished stranger, and ended by inviting me to call. Unsuspecting Miss Raggles! Her mother had apparently gone home hours before. In the Slater set they managed things in this way.
I wonder when I am to be paid.
January 22d.—I have discovered where I have seen Mr. Slater before. I stopped at Stewart’s yesterday to buy some gloves (I was paid the morning after the Slater party), and as I walked down the shop one of the individuals popularly known as “walkers” approached me.
“What do you desire, sir?” I heard a pompous voice say. “Where may I direct you?”
“Gloves,” I said, mechanically.