The Custom of the Country | Page 8

she looked back, and made her resolve
once more to trust less to her impulses--especially in the matter of
giving away rings. In the interval, however, she felt she had learned a
good deal, especially since, by Mabel Lipscomb's advice, the Spraggs
had moved to the Stentorian, where that lady was herself established.
There was nothing of the monopolist about Mabel, and she lost no time

in making Undine free of the Stentorian group and its affiliated
branches: a society addicted to "days," and linked together by
membership in countless clubs, mundane, cultural or "earnest." Mabel
took Undine to the days, and introduced her as a "guest" to the
club-meetings, where she was supported by the presence of many other
guests--"my friend Miss Stager, of Phalanx, Georgia," or (if the lady
were literary) simply "my friend Ora Prance Chettle of Nebraska--you
know what Mrs. Chettle stands for."
Some of these reunions took place in the lofty hotels moored like a
sonorously named fleet of battle-ships along the upper reaches of the
West Side: the Olympian, the Incandescent, the Ormolu; while others,
perhaps the more exclusive, were held in the equally lofty but more
romantically styled apartment-houses: the Parthenon, the Tintern
Abbey or the Lido.
Undine's preference was for the worldly parties, at which games were
played, and she returned home laden with prizes in Dutch silver; but
she was duly impressed by the debating clubs, where ladies of local
distinction addressed the company from an improvised platform, or the
members argued on subjects of such imperishable interest as: "What is
charm?" or "The Problem-Novel" after which pink lemonade and
rainbow sandwiches were consumed amid heated discussion of the
"ethical aspect" of the question.
It was all very novel and interesting, and at first Undine envied Mabel
Lipscomb for having made herself a place in such circles; but in time
she began to despise her for being content to remain there. For it did
not take Undine long to learn that introduction to Mabel's "set" had
brought her no nearer to Fifth Avenue. Even in Apex, Undine's tender
imagination had been nurtured on the feats and gestures of Fifth
Avenue. She knew all of New York's golden aristocracy by name, and
the lineaments of its most distinguished scions had been made familiar
by passionate poring over the daily press. In Mabel's world she sought
in vain for the originals, and only now and then caught a tantalizing
glimpse of one of their familiars: as when Claud Walsingham Popple,
engaged on the portrait of a lady whom the Lipscombs described as
"the wife of a Steel Magnet," felt it his duty to attend one of his client's
teas, where it became Mabel's privilege to make his acquaintance and
to name to him her friend Miss Spragg.

Unsuspected social gradations were thus revealed to the attentive
Undine, but she was beginning to think that her sad proficiency had
been acquired in vain when her hopes were revived by the appearance
of Mr. Popple and his friend at the Stentorian dance. She thought she
had learned enough to be safe from any risk of repeating the hideous
Aaronson mistake; yet she now saw she had blundered again in
distinguishing Claud Walsingham Popple while she almost snubbed his
more retiring companion. It was all very puzzling, and her perplexity
had been farther increased by Mrs. Heeny's tale of the great Mrs.
Harmon B. Driscoll's despair.
Hitherto Undine had imagined that the Driscoll and Van Degen clans
and their allies held undisputed suzerainty over New York society.
Mabel Lipscomb thought so too, and was given to bragging of her
acquaintance with a Mrs. Spoff, who was merely a second cousin of
Mrs. Harmon B. Driscoll's. Yet here was she. Undine Spragg of Apex,
about to be introduced into an inner circle to which Driscolls and Van
Degens had laid siege in vain! It was enough to make her feel a little
dizzy with her triumph--to work her up into that state of perilous
self-confidence in which all her worst follies had been committed.
She stood up and, going close to the glass, examined the reflection of
her bright eyes and glowing cheeks. This time her fears were
superfluous: there were to be no more mistakes and no more follies
now! She was going to know the right people at last--she was going to
get what she wanted!
As she stood there, smiling at her happy image, she heard her father's
voice in the room beyond, and instantly began to tear off her dress,
strip the long gloves from her arms and unpin the rose in her hair.
Tossing the fallen finery aside, she slipped on a dressing-gown and
opened the door into the drawing-room.
Mr. Spragg was standing near her mother, who sat in a drooping
attitude, her