University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.
TONING DOWN.—BELL'S DIARY CONTINUED.

SUCH fun as it was to see mother and Juno training
Katy, showing her how to enter the parlor,
how to arrange her dress, how to carry her hands
and feet, and how to sit in a chair—Juno going through
with the performance first, and then requiring Katy to
imitate her. Had I been Katy I should have rebelled,
but she is far too sweet-tempered and anxious to please,
while I suspect that fear of my lord Wilford had something
to do with it, for when the drill was over, she
asked so earnestly if we thought he would be ashamed
of her, and there were tears in her great blue eyes as
she said it. Hang Wilford! Hang the whole of them;
I am not sure I shall not yet espouse her cause myself,
or else tell father, who will do it so much better.

Dec. —th.—Another drill, with Juno commanding officer,
while the poor little private seemed completely
worried out. This time there were open doors, but so
absorbed were mother and Juno as not to hear the bell,
and just as Juno was saying, “Now imagine me Mrs.
Gen. Reynolds, to whom you are being presented,”
while Katy was bowing almost to the floor, who should
appear but Mark Ray, stumbling square upon that ludicrous
rehearsal, and, of course, bringing it to an end.
No explanation was made, nor was any needed, for
Mark's face showed that he understood it, and it was as
much as he could do to keep from roaring with merriment;
I am sure he pitied Katy, for his manner towards

her was very affectionate and kind, and when she left
the room he complimented her highly, repeating many
things he had heard in her praise from those who had
seen her both in the street and here at home. Juno's
face was like a thunder-cloud, for she is as much in love
with Mark Ray as she was once with Dr. Grant, and is
even jealous of his praise of Katy. Glad am I that I
never yet saw the man who could make me jealous, or for
whom I cared a pin. There's Bob Reynolds up at West
Point. I suppose I do think his epaulettes very becoming
to him, but his hair is too light, and he cannot raise
whiskers big enough to cast a shadow on the wall, while
I know he looks with contempt upon females who write,
even though their writings never see the light of day;
thinks them strong-minded, self-willed, and all that. He
is expected to be present at the party, but I shall not go.
I prefer to stay at home and finish that article entitled,
“Women of the Present Century,” suggested to my mind
by my sister Katy, who stands for the picture I am drawing
of a pretty woman, with more heart than brains,
contrasting her with such an one as Juno, her opposite.

January 10.—The last time I wrote in my journal was
just before the party, which is over now, the long talked
of affair at which Katy was the reigning belle. I don't
know how it happened, but happen it did, and Juno's
glory faded before that of her rival, whose ringing laugh
frequently penetrated to every room, and made more than
one look up in some surprise. But when Mrs. Humphreys
said, “It's that charming little Mrs. Cameron, the
prettiest creature I ever saw, her laugh is so refreshing
and genuine,” the point was settled, and Katy was free
to laugh as loudly as she pleased.

She did look beautifully, in lace and pearls, with her
short hair curling in her neck. She would not allow us
to put so much as a bud in her hair, showing, in this respect,
a willfulness we never expected; but as she was
perfectly irresistible, we suffered her to have her way, and
when she was dressed, sent her in to father, who had
asked to see her. And now comes the strangest thing in
the world.

“You are very beautiful, little daughter,” father said.

“I almost wish I was going with you to see the sensation
you are sure to create.”

Then straight into his lap climbed Katy, father's lap,
where none of us ever sat, I am sure, and began to coax
him to go, telling him she should appear better if he
were there, and that she should need him when Wilford
left her, as of course he must a part of the time. And
father actually dressed himself and went. But Katy did
not need him after the people began to understand that
Mrs. Wilford Cameron was the rage. Even Sybil Grey
in her palmiest days never received such homage as was
paid to the little Silverton girl, whose great charm was
her perfect enjoyment of everything, and her perfect
faith in what people said to her. Juno was nothing and
I worse than nothing, for I did go after all, wearing a
plain black silk, with high neck and long sleeves, looking,
as Juno said, like a Sister of Charity.

Lieut. Bob was there, his light hair lighter than ever,
and his chin as smooth as my hand. He likes to dance
and I do not, but somehow he persisted in staying where
I was, notwithstanding that I said my sharpest things
in hopes to get rid of him. He left me at last to dance
with Katy, who makes up in grace and airiness what she
lacks in knowledge. Once upon the floor she did not
lack for partners, but I verily believe danced every set,
growing prettier and fairer as she danced, for hers is a
complexion which does not get red and blowsy with
exercise.

Mark Ray was there too, and I saw him smile comically
when Katy met the people with that bow she was
making at the time he came so suddenly upon us. Mark
is a good fellow, and I really think we have him to thank
in a measure for Katy's successful début. He was the
first to take her from Wilford, walking with her up and
down the hall by way of reassuring her, and once as they
passed me I heard her say,

“I feel so timid here—so much afraid of doing something
wrong—something countrified.”

“Never mind,” he answered. “Act yourself just as
you would were you at home in Silverton, where you
are known. That is far better than affecting a manner
not natural to you.”

After that Katy brightened wonderfully. The stiffness
which at first was perceptible passed off, and she was
Katy Lennox, queening it over all the city belles, drawing
after her a host of gentlemen, and between the sets
holding a miniature court at one end of the room, where
the more desirable of the guests crowded around, flattering
her until her little head ought to have been
turned if it was not. To do her justice she bore her
honors well, and when we were in the carriage and father
complimented her upon her success, she only said,

“If I pleased you all I am glad.”

So many calls as we had the next day, and so many
invitations as there are now on our table for Mrs. Wilford
Cameron, while our opera box between the scenes
is packed with beaux, until one would suppose Wilford
might be jealous; but Katy takes it so quietly and modestly,
seeming only gratified for his sake, that I really
believes he enjoys it more than she does. At all events
he persists in her going even when she would rather
stay at home, so if she is spoiled the fault will rest with
him.

February —th.—Poor Katy! Dissipation is beginning
to wear upon her, for she is not accustomed to our late
hours, and sometimes falls asleep while Esther is dressing
her. But go she must, for Wilford wills it so, and
she is but an automaton to do his bidding.

Why can't mother let her alone, when everybody
seems so satisfied with her? Somehow she does not believe
that people are as delighted as they pretend, and
so she keeps training and tormenting her until I do not
wonder that Katy sometimes hates to go out, lest she
shall unconsciously be guilty of an impropriety. I pitied
her last night when, after she was ready for the
opera, she came into my room where I was indulging
in the luxury of a loose dressing gown, with my feet on
the sofa. At first I think she liked Juno best, but latterly
she has taken to me, and now sitting down before
the fire into which her blue eyes looked with a steady
stare, she said,

“I wish I might stay here with you to-night. I have
heard this opera before, and it will be so tiresome. I
get so sleepy while they are singing, for I never care to

watch the acting. I did at first when it was new, but
now it seems insipid to see them make believe, while the
theatre is worse yet,” and she gave a weary yawn.

In less than three months she had exhausted fashionable
life, and I looked at her in astonishment, asking
what would please her if the opera did not. What
would she like?

Turning her eyes full upon me, she exclaimed,

“I do like it some, I suppose, only I get so tired. I
like to ride, I like to skate, I like to shop, and all that;
but oh, you don't know how I want to go home to mother
and Helen. I have not seen them for so long; but I
am going in the spring—going in May. How many
days are there in March and April? Sixty-one,” she
continued; “then I may safely say that in eighty days I
shall see mother, and all the dear old places. It is not
a grand home like this. You, Bell, might laugh at it.
Juno would, I am sure, but you do not know how dear
it is to me, or how I long for a sight of the huckleberry
hills and the rocks where Helen and I used to play.”

Just then Will called to say the carriage was waiting,
and Katy was driven away, while I sat thinking of her
and the devoted love with which she clings to her home
and friends, wondering if it were the kindest thing which
could have been done, transplanting her to our atmosphere,
so different from her own.

March 1st.—As it was in the winter, so it is now; Mrs.
Wilford Cameron is the rage—the bright star of society
which quotes and pets and flatters, and even laughs at
her by turns; and Wilford, though still watchful, lest
she should do something outré, is very proud of her,
insisting upon her accepting invitations, sometimes two
for one evening, until the child is absolutely worn out,
and said to me once when I told her how well she was
looking and how pretty her dress was, “Yes, pretty
enough, but I am so tired. If I could lie down on mother's
bed, in a shilling calico, just as I used to do!”

Mother's bed seems at present to be the height of her
ambition—the thing she most desires; and as Juno fancies
it must be the feathers she is sighing for, she wickedly
suggests that Wilford either buy a feather bed for
his wife, or else send to Aunt Betsy for the one which

was to be Katy's setting out! They go to housekeeping
in May, and on Madison Square, too. I think Wilford
would quite as soon remain with us, for he does not fancy
change; but Katy wants a home of her own, and I
never saw anything more absolutely beautiful than her
face when father said to Wilford that No. — Madison
Square was for sale, advising him to secure it. But when
mother intimated that there was no necessity for the
two families to separate at present—that Katy was too
young to have the charge of a house—there came into
her eyes a look of such distress that it went straight to
father's heart, and calling her to him, he said,

“Tell me, sunbeam, what is your choice—to stay with
us, or have a home of your own?”

Katy was very white, and her voice trembled as she
replied,

“You have been kind to me here, and it is very pleasant;
but I guess—I think—I'm sure—I should like the
housekeeping best. I am not so young either. Nineteen
in July, and when I go home next month I can learn
so much of Aunt Betsy and Aunt Hannah.”

Mother looked at Wilford then; but he was looking
into the fire with an expression anything but favorable
to that visit home, fixed now for April instead of May.
But Katy has no discernment, and believes she is actually
going to learn how to make apple dumplings and
pumpkin pies. In spite of mother the house is bought,
and now she is gone all day deciding how it shall be furnished,
always leaving Katy out of the question, as if she
were a cipher, and only consulting Wilford's choice.
They will be happier alone, I know. Mrs. Gen. Reynolds
says that it is the way for young people to live; that
her son's wife shall never come home to her, for of course
their habits could not be alike; and then she looked
queerly at me, as if she knew I was thinking of Lieutenant
Bob and who his wife might be.

Sybil Grandon is coming in April or May, and Mrs.
Reynolds wonders will she flirt as she used to do. Just
as if Bob would care for a widow! There is more danger
from Will, who thinks Mrs. Grandon a perfect paragon,
and who is very anxious that Katy may appear
well before her, saying nothing and doing nothing which

shall in any way approximate to Silverton and the shoes
which Katy told Esther she used to bind when a girl.
Will need not be disturbed, for Sybil Grandon was never
half as pretty as Katy, or half as much admired.
Neither need Mrs. Gen. Reynolds fret about Bob, as if
he would care for her. Sybil Grandon indeed!