The Marrow of Tradition | Page 8

The major went to the head of the
stairs and came down with Mrs. Carteret upon his arm, her beauty
rendered more delicate by the pallor of her countenance and more
complete by the happiness with which it glowed. Ellis went in alone. In
the rector's absence it was practically a family party which sat down,
with the exception of Ellis, who, as we have seen, would willingly have
placed himself in the same category.
The table was tastefully decorated with flowers, which grew about the
house in lavish profusion. In warm climates nature adorns herself with
true feminine vanity.
"What a beautiful table!" exclaimed Tom, before they were seated.
"The decorations are mine," said Clara proudly. "I cut the flowers and
arranged them all myself."
"Which accounts for the admirable effect," rejoined Tom with a bow,
before Ellis, to whom the same thought had occurred, was able to
express himself. He had always counted himself the least envious of
men, but for this occasion he coveted Tom Delamere's readiness.
"The beauty of the flowers," observed old Mr. Delamere, with
sententious gallantry, "is reflected upon all around them. It is a
handsome company."
Mrs. Ochiltree beamed upon the table with a dry smile.

"I don't perceive any effect that it has upon you or me," she said; "And
as for the young people, 'Handsome is as handsome does.' If Tom here,
for instance, were as good as he looks"--
"You flatter me, Aunt Polly," Tom broke in hastily, anticipating the
crack of the whip; he was familiar with his aunt's conversational
idiosyncrasies.
"If you are as good as you look," continued the old lady, with a cunning
but indulgent smile, "some one has been slandering you."
"Thanks, Aunt Polly! Now you don't flatter me."
"There is Mr. Ellis," Mrs. Ochiltree went on, "who is not half so
good-looking, but is steady as a clock, I dare say."
"Now, Aunt Polly," interposed Mrs. Carteret, "let the gentlemen alone."
"She doesn't mean half what she says," continued Mrs. Carteret
apologetically, "and only talks that way to people whom she likes."
Tom threw Mrs. Carteret a grateful glance. He had been apprehensive,
with the sensitiveness of youth, lest his old great-aunt should make a
fool of him before Clara's family. Nor had he relished the comparison
with Ellis, who was out of place, anyway, in this family party. He had
never liked the fellow, who was too much of a plodder and a prig to
make a suitable associate for a whole-souled, generous-hearted young
gentleman. He tolerated him as a visitor at Carteret's and as a member
of the Clarendon Club, but that was all.
"Mrs. Ochiltree has a characteristic way of disguising her feelings,"
observed old Mr. Delamere, with a touch of sarcasm.
Ellis had merely flushed and felt uncomfortable at the reference to
himself. The compliment to his character hardly offset the reflection
upon his looks. He knew he was not exactly handsome, but it was not
pleasant to have the fact emphasized in the presence of the girl he loved;
he would like at least fair play, and judgment upon the subject left to

the young lady.
Mrs. Ochiltree was quietly enjoying herself. In early life she had been
accustomed to impale fools on epigrams, like flies on pins, to see them
wriggle. But with advancing years she had lost in some measure the
faculty of nice discrimination,--it was pleasant to see her victims
squirm, whether they were fools or friends. Even one's friends, she
argued, were not always wise, and were sometimes the better for being
told the truth. At her niece's table she felt at liberty to speak her mind,
which she invariably did, with a frankness that sometimes bordered on
brutality. She had long ago outgrown the period where ambition or
passion, or its partners, envy and hatred, were springs of action in her
life, and simply retained a mild enjoyment in the exercise of an old
habit, with no active malice whatever. The ruling passion merely grew
stronger as the restraining faculties decreased in vigor.
A diversion was created at this point by the appearance of old Mammy
Jane, dressed in a calico frock, with clean white neckerchief and apron,
carrying the wonderful baby in honor of whose naming this feast had
been given. Though only six weeks old, the little Theodore had grown
rapidly, and Mammy Jane declared was already quite large for his age,
and displayed signs of an unusually precocious intelligence. He was
passed around the table and duly admired. Clara thought his hair was
fine. Ellis inquired about his teeth. Tom put his finger in the baby's fist
to test his grip. Old Mr. Delamere was unable to decide as yet whether
he favored most his father or his mother. The object of these