The Inside of the Cup | Page 7

sorry for him,"
said Mrs. Waring. "He must be so lonely in that huge palace of his
beside the Park, his wife dead, and Preston running wild around the
world, and Alison no comfort. The idea of a girl leaving her father as
she did and going off to New York to become a landscape architect!"
"But, mother," Evelyn pleaded, "I can't see why a woman shouldn't
lead her own life. She only has one, like a man. And generally she
doesn't get that."
Mrs. Waring rose.
"I don't know what we're coming to. I was taught that a woman's place
was with her husband and children; or, if she had none, with her family.
I tried to teach you so, my dear."
"Well," said Evelyn, "I'm here yet. I haven't Alison's excuse. Cheer up,
mother, the world's no worse than it was."
"I don't know about that," answered Mrs. Waring.
"Listen!" ejaculated Eleanor.
Mrs. Waring's face brightened. Sounds of mad revelry came down from
the floor above.
CHAPTER II
MR. LANGMAID'S MISSION
I
Looking back over an extraordinary career, it is interesting to attempt
to fix the time when a name becomes a talisman, and passes current for
power. This is peculiarly difficult in the case of Eldon Parr. Like many
notable men before him, nobody but Mr. Parr himself suspected his
future greatness, and he kept the secret. But if we are to search what is
now ancient history for a turning-point, perhaps we should find it in the

sudden acquisition by him of the property of Mr. Bentley.
The transaction was a simple one. Those were the days when
gentlemen, as matters of courtesy, put their names on other gentlemen's
notes; and modern financiers, while they might be sorry for Mr.
Bentley, would probably be unanimous in the opinion that he was
foolish to write on the back of Thomas Garrett's. Mr. Parr was then, as
now, a business man, and could scarcely be expected to introduce
philanthropy into finance. Such had been Mr. Bentley's unfortunate
practice. And it had so happened, a few years before, for the
accommodation of some young men of his acquaintance that he had
invested rather generously in Grantham mining stock at twenty-five
cents a share, and had promptly forgotten the transaction. To cut a long
story short, in addition to Mr. Bentley's house and other effects, Mr.
Parr became the owner of the Grantham stock, which not long after
went to one hundred dollars. The reader may do the figuring.
Where was some talk at this time, but many things had happened since.
For example, Mr. Parr had given away great sums in charity. And it
may likewise be added in his favour that Mr. Bentley was glad to be rid
of his fortune. He had said so. He deeded his pew back to St. John's,
and protesting to his friends that he was not unhappy, he disappeared
from the sight of all save a few. The rising waters of Prosperity closed
over him. But Eliza Preston, now Mrs. Parr, was one of those who were
never to behold him again,--in this world, at least.
She was another conspicuous triumph in that career we are depicting.
Gradual indeed had been the ascent from the sweeping out of a store to
the marrying of a Preston, but none the less sure inevitable. For many
years after this event, Eldon Parr lived modestly in what was known as
a "stone-front" house in Ransome Street, set well above the sidewalk,
with a long flight of yellow stone steps leading to it; steps scrubbed
with Sapoho twice a week by a negro in rubber boots. There was a
stable with a tarred roof in the rear, to be discerned beyond the
conventional side lawn that was broken into by the bay window of the
dining-room. There, in that house, his two children were born: there,
within those inartistic walls, Eliza Preston lived a life that will remain a

closed book forever. What she thought, what she dreamed, if anything,
will never be revealed. She did not, at least, have neurasthenia, and for
all the world knew, she may have loved her exemplary and successful
husband, with whom her life was as regular as the Strasburg clock. She
breakfasted at eight and dined at seven; she heard her children's lessons
and read them Bible stories; and at half past ten every Sunday morning,
rain or shine, walked with them and her husband to the cars on Tower
Street to attend service at St. John's, for Mr. Parr had scruples in those
days about using the carriage on the Sabbath.
She did not live, alas, to enjoy for long the Medicean magnificence of
the mansion facing the Park, to be a companion moon in the greater
orbit. Eldon Part's