This meal, in the mind of Madam Weatherstone, was the crowning factor of
daily life; and, on state occasions, of social life. In her cosmogony
the central sun was a round mahogany table; all other details of
housekeeping revolved about it in varying orbits. To serve an endless
series of dignified delicious meals, notably dinners, was, in her eyes,
the chief end of woman; the most high purpose of the home.
Therefore, though angry and astounded, she appeared promptly when the
meal was announced; and when her daughter-in-law, serene and royally
attired, took her place as usual, no emotion was allowed to appear
before the purple footman who attended.
"I understood you were out, Viva," she said politely.
"I was," replied Viva, with equal decorum. "It is charming outside at
this time in the evening--don't you think so?"
Young Matthew was gloomy and irritable throughout the length and breadth
of the meal; and when they were left with their coffee in the drawing
room, he broke out, "What's this I hear about Mrs. Halsey being fired
without notice?"
"That is what I wish to know, Viva," said the grandmother. "The poor
woman is greatly distressed. Is there not some mistake?"
"It's a damn shame," said Matthew.
The younger lady glanced from one to the other, and wondered to see how
little she minded it. "The door was there all the time!" she thought to
herself, as she looked her stepson in the eye and said, "Hardly
drawing-room language, Matthew.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131