to Gertie this very forenoon."
She did, but the talk was unsatisfactory. When Daniel, waiting anxiously to learn what had taken place, questioned her she shook her head.
"I can't make Gertie out," she declared pettishly. "She acts so queer. Doesn't want to talk about John at all. Says it is all right, and why should I worry if she doesn't? And she is so different, somehow. She was willing enough to discuss my chances for the vice-presidency. She asked twenty questions about that and declares she is going to help me. And yesterday, when I wanted her to help, she didn't take any interest. I never saw such a change. And she is so--so fidgety and--and nervous and high-spirited and silly. She laughed at nothing and kept jumping up and walking about and sitting down again. I declare! it made ME jumpy just to look at her."
Gertrude's conduct was certainly surprising. It caused Captain Dan to feel "jumpy" more than once. Her determination to help her mother in the campaign she put into immediate practice. She called Cousin Percy into council, borrowed Serena's list of Chapter members, and the pair spent hours checking that list together. Then Gertrude announced that she was going to make some calls. She made them and returned, exultant.
"I think I have made two converts this afternoon," she said. "I am almost sure they will vote for you, Mother. You and I must go to Mrs. Black's to-night and talk it over with her. We MUST; it is very important."
Serena, who had hoped for an early bedtime, expressed weariness, and protested, but her protests were overruled. They went to the Blacks' and Captain Dan and Mr. Hungerford went, also. Annette was delighted to see them. Mr. Black succeeded in repressing his joy.
"For the Lord's sake, Dan!" he exclaimed, when, he and the captain were alone, "isn't there EVER going to be any let-up to this tom-foolery? Are these women of ours going stark crazy?"
Daniel gloomily replied that he didn't know.
"You're worse off than I am," continued B. Phelps. "There's two lunatics in your family and only one in mine. Your daughter's just as bad as her mother, every bit--worse, if anything. But, it seems to agree with HER. I never saw her so lively or so pretty either. Humph! your pet cousin there is badly gone, or I'm no judge. Well, you remember what I told you about him."
Daniel nodded. He was too depressed for words.
"All right, it's your funeral, not mine. But, say! there's one ray of hope. The whole crowd may be licked to death in this election. If they are, my wife says she'll resign from the Chapter and never speak to one of the bunch again. It sounds too good to be true, but it may be. It's enough to make a fellow hop in and do some political work himself--for the other side. What?"
The political work continued, mornings and afternoons, evenings and far into the nights. Serena was in it, Gertrude was in it, and Cousin Percy and Mr. Holway were in it because she was. Monty's calls were of frequent occurrence. Mr. Hungerford and his erstwhile chum did not speak to each other at all now. But at receptions and teas and dances and musicals and committee meetings one or the other was on hand at Miss Dott's elbow. And Gertrude was very gracious to them both; not more to one than the other, but exceptionally kind and agreeable to each.
The social affairs were of almost as frequent occurrence as the political meetings. Gertrude accepted all invitations and urged her mother to accept.
"You must, Mother," she declared. "Now is the time when you can't afford to offend or neglect anyone. You may need their votes and influence."
"But, Gertie," pleaded poor, tired Serena, "I can't go everywhere."
"You must. If this vice-presidency is worth all the world to you, as you say it is, you must sacrifice everything else to get it."
"But, I can't! I'm almost worn out. I--I--oh, sometimes I feel almost willing to give it all up and go back to--to--almost anywhere, even Trumet, if I could rest there."
"You don't mean that, Mother."
"No; no, of course I don't."
"Because if you do, why--well, that is different. If you WANT to go back to dead and alive old Trumet--"
"I don't. I--I wouldn't for anything. I shouldn't think you, of all people, would hint at such a thing. You! When I have climbed so high already; when our social position has become what it is. You! talking of going back to Trumet."
"I'm not. You mentioned it; I didn't. I'm having a beautiful time. I just love our social position. The Blacks and the Kellys and--er--that Miss Dusante! Oh, I adore them. I wouldn't leave such cultured people for anything. And you enjoy it so, Mother. You look so happy."
Was there a trace of sarcasm in this outburst? Serena was, for the moment, suspicious. She tried her hardest to look very happy indeed.
"I am happy, of course," she declared.
"I know it. And we want to keep on being happy, don't we. So we must not decline anyone's invitation. We must go, go, go, all the time."
"But some of the invitations are from people I scarcely know at all. And some I don't like."
"That makes no difference. They may be of value to you in your campaign, or socially, or somehow. Don't you see, Mother? In politics or society one wishes to advance, to climb higher all the time. And to do that one must use one's acquaintances as rounds in the ladder. Use them; get something from them; pretend to love them, no matter whether you really hate them or not. They may hate you, but they want to use you. That's part of the game, Mother."
This was worldly advice to be given by a young lady scarcely out of college. And it sounded so unlike Gertrude. But, then, Gertrude had changed, was changing more and more daily.
"We don't entertain enough," went on the adviser. "We should be giving some affair or other at least once a week. Invite everybody you know--everyone but the Lake crowd, of course. I'll make out a list of eligibles to-day and we'll give an 'At Home' next week."
"But, Gertie--the expense. It costs so dreadfully. We're not rich; that is, not very rich."
"No matter. Everyone thinks we are. If they didn't, most of them would cut us dead to-morrow. We must pretend to be very rich. I'll make out the list. Mr. Holway will help me. He is coming to call this evening."
Serena looked more troubled than ever.
"Gertie," she said earnestly, "I think I ought--yes, I am going to warn you against that Mr. Holway. I don't like your having him call or being seen in his company."
"You don't! I am surprised. I'm sure he is very polite and agreeable. He belongs to the best club and he dresses well, and as to society--why, he is in the very heart of it; our kind of society, I mean."
"I know, I know. But--well, Cousin Percy doesn't speak well of him. He says he is a very fast young man."
Gertrude bit her lip. "Did Percy say that!" she exclaimed. "How odd! Why, Monty--I mean Mr. Holway--said almost the same thing about him. And I KNOW you like Cousin Percy, Mother."
Mrs. Dott scarcely knew how to answer. As a matter of fact she did not like their aristocratic relative quite as well as she had at first. There were certain things about him, little mannerisms and condescensions, which jarred upon her. He was so very, very much at home in the family now; in fact, he seemed to take his permanent membership in that family for granted. He had ceased to refer to himself as being on a vacation, and, as for his "literary work," he appeared to have forgotten that altogether.
But these were not the real reasons for Serena's growing dislike and uneasiness. She hinted at the real reason in her next remark.
"I don't think," she said, "I don't think, Gertie, that you and he should be so much together. You are engaged to be married, you know, and John--"
Gertrude interrupted. She ignored the mention of Mr. Doane's name.