A Rebellious Heroine | Page 8

young author, she intended that he should not
ignore the proprieties, even if in a sense the proprieties to which she

referred did antedate the period at which his story was to open. She was
willing to appear, but it seemed to her that Stuart Harley ought to see to
it that she was escorted to the scene of action with the ceremony due to
one of her position.
"What does he take me for?" she asked of Mrs. Corwin, indignantly, on
the eve of her departure. "Am I a mere marionette, to obey his slightest
behest, and at a moment's notice? Am I to dance when Stuart Harley
pulls the string?"
"Not at all, my dear Marguerite," said Mrs. Corwin, soothingly. "If he
thought that, he would not have selected you for his story. I think you
ought to feel highly complimented that Mr. Harley should choose you
for one of his books, and for such a conspicuous part, too. Look at me;
do I complain? Am I holding out for the proprieties? And yet what is
my situation? I'm simply dragged in by the hair; and my poor children,
instead of having a nice, noisy Fourth of July at the sea-shore, must
needs be put upon a great floating caravansary, to suffer seasickness
and the other discomforts of ocean travel, so as to introduce a little
juvenile fun into this great work of Mr. Harley's--and yet I bow my
head meekly and go. Why? Because I feel that, inconspicuous though I
shall be, nevertheless I am highly honored that Mr. Harley should
select me from among many for the uses of his gifted pen."
"You are prepared, then," retorted Marguerite, "to place yourself
unreservedly in Mr. Harley's hands? Shall you flirt with the captain if
he thinks your doing so will add to the humorous or dramatic interest of
his story? Will you permit your children to make impertinent remarks
to every one aboard ship; to pick up sailors' slang and use it at the
dining-table--in short, to make themselves obnoxiously clever at all
times, in order that Mr. Harley's critics may say that his book fairly
scintillates with wit, and gives gratifying evidence that 'the rising
young author' has made a deep and careful analysis of the juvenile
heart?"
"Mr. Harley is too much of a gentleman, Marguerite, to place me and
my children in a false or ridiculous light," returned Mrs. Corwin,
severely. "And even if he were not a gentleman, he is too true a realist
to make me do anything which in the nature of things I should not
do--which disposes of your entirely uncalled-for remark about the
captain and myself. As for the children, Tommie would not repeat

sailors' lingo at the table under any circumstances, and Jennie will not
make herself obnoxiously clever at any time, because she has been
brought up too carefully to fail to respect her elders. Both she and
Tommie understand themselves thoroughly; and when Mr. Harley
understands them, which he cannot fail to do after a short acquaintance,
he will draw them as they are; and if previous to his complete
understanding of their peculiarities he introduces into his story
something foreign to their natures and obnoxious to me, their mother, I
have no doubt he will correct his error when he comes to read the
proofs of his story and sees his mistake."
"You have great confidence in Stuart Harley," retorted Miss Andrews,
gazing out of the window with a pensive cast of countenance.
"Haven't you?" asked Mrs. Corwin, quickly.
"As a man, yes," returned Marguerite. "As an author, however, I think
he is open to criticism. He is not always true to the real. Look at Lord
Barncastle, in his study of English manners! Barncastle, as he drew him,
was nothing but a New York society man with a title, living in England.
That is to say, he talked like an American, thought like one--there was
no point of difference between them."
"And why should there be?" asked Mrs. Corwin. "If a New York
society man is generally a weak imitation of an English peer--and no
one has ever denied that such is the case--why shouldn't an English
peer be represented as a sort of intensified New York society man?"
"Besides," said Miss Andrews, ignoring Mrs. Corwin's point, "I don't
care to be presented too really to the reading public, especially on board
a ship. I never yet knew a woman who looked well the second day out,
and if I were to be presented as I always am the second day out, I
should die of mortification. My hair goes out of curl, my face is the
color of an unripe peach, and if I do go up on deck it is because I am so