The Argosy, August 1914 — page 116: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

106 First among them, of course, one must cite Lord Lastermere, most run after of noblemen, just arrived in America, and confidently thought by a dozen mamas and papas to be on the -brink of picking out a future Lady Lastermere from among the swarms of American girls to whom he had been introduced during his sojourn. There he sat, handsome and polished, bask- ing in admiration, doling out to right and left smiles and empty phrases, su- premely conscious of being the lion of the evening. Lord Lastermere—at David Grel- thorpe’s board! Then there were Mr. and Mrs. Fur- bush Challis, the young nobleman’s sponsors, securely enthroned on the rarefiedest heights of society, _ still aglow with the pride of having, un- earthed the young lord in his native England during their last European tour and whisked hiny bodily across the Atlantic for the delectation and envy of their friends. : So, too, was Mr. Vedner present— Ackley Vedner—who, Lord Laster- mere had graciously remarked, no- body could tell apart from an English- man, a remark which had lifted Ackley to the seventh heaven of bliss. The sprightly Mrs. Annandale was also among the guests; to go into the history of how the Grelthorpes had secured her “ yes”’ to their dinner in- vitation would be to delve into. the innermost secrets and write a very Odyssey of the painful art of climb- ing. Let it suffice to say that she was there, smiling graciously; acting, for all the world, as if the Grelthorpes “belonged.” Could mortal ask more? There, too, was Mrs. Stephen Vale —Mrs. “ Stevie” Vale—who last sea- son, at the Horse Show— But enough of the component parts of this most dazzling party has been disclosed to show how tremendously, how irreproachably chic it was. There they sat, the august group, the ultra- select little coterie, an Everest in the mountain range of the social climber, THE ARGOSY. “exchanging polite nothings with their host and hostess, and seeming to say with every word they uttered: “ Yes, sir and madam, we have taken you into our inner circle. You are now actual- ly on a par with us. To-morrow you may be measured for wings and halos. Earth holds nothing more for you.” In the midst of the chatter Grel- thorpe again stole a glance at his wife; her eyes shot back ineffable satisfac- tion. In the Grelthorpe history an epoch was indeed being marked. “If only Claire were here,” sighed Mrs. Grelthorpe to herself. And she cast covetous eyes on Lord Lastermere. If only her daughter were his vis-d-vis! Then she glanced once more at her husband, and what she saw seemed to reassure and cheer her. The masterful gaze of David Grelthorpe, bent also on the you Englishman, told her all too Rte 2 that, even though her daughter were absent, not a move in the Grelthorpe game was being neglected by her spouse. All was well! So she returned with redoubled vigor to entertaining her guests; and it must be said that, for one not born to the purple, her small talk was small enough to deceive anybody. “Yes,” she rattled to Mrs. Furbush Challis. “ Claire is a darling, but she’s a headstrong girl—oh, very head- strong, ny dear Mrs. Challis. You know what girls are; she took it into her head to be an artist, and nothing would do but a trip to Norway to find subjects for sketches. It’s so pictur- esque up there, you know; the sun shines at night—or is it the moon in the daytime? Lord Lastermere, don’t you simply love art?” “TI do,” replied the nobleman, with the air of putting keen art criticism into scintillant epigrammatie form. Mrs. Grelthorpe clapped her hands ecstatically. “I knew it!” she chirped. “ You and Claire are absolutely sure to get | along beautifully together from the first time you meet. It must be. Your CORNICGLOOOKS Go