Their Pilgrimage | Page 8

pleasure, Mrs.
Cortlandt," Mr. King was saying, as he stood beside her, watching the
exodus.
Perhaps Mrs. Cortlandt fancied his eyes were following a particular
figure, for she responded, "And how did you like her?"
"Like her--Miss Benson? Why, I didn't see much of her. I thought she
was very intelligent--seemed very much interested when Lieutenant
Green was explaining to her what made the drydock dry--but they were
all that. Did you say her eyes were gray? I couldn't make out if they
were not rather blue after all--large, changeable sort of eyes, long
lashes; eyes that look at you seriously and steadily, without the least bit
of coquetry or worldliness; eyes expressing simplicity and interest in
what you are saying--not in you, but in what you are saying. So few
women know how to listen; most women appear to be thinking of
themselves and the effect they are producing."
Mrs. Cortlandt laughed. "Ah; I see. And a little 'sadness' in them, wasn't
there? Those are the most dangerous eyes. The sort that follow you,
that you see in the dark at night after the gas is turned off."

"I haven't the faculty of seeing things in the dark, Mrs. Cortlandt. Oh,
there's the mother!" And the shrill voice of Mrs. Benson was heard,
"We was getting uneasy about you. Pa says a storm's coming, and that
you'd be as sick as sick."
The weather was changing. But that evening the spacious hotel,
luxurious, perfectly warmed, and well lighted, crowded with an
agreeable if not a brilliant company--for Mr. King noted the fact that
none of the gentlemen dressed for dinner--seemed all the more pleasant
for the contrast with the weather outside. Thus housed, it was pleasant
to hear the waves dashing against the breakwater. Just by chance, in the
ballroom, Mr. King found himself seated by Mrs. Benson and a group
of elderly ladies, who had the perfunctory air of liking the mild gayety
of the place. To one of them Mr. King was presented, Mrs. Stimpson--a
stout woman with a broad red face and fishy eyes, wearing an elaborate
head- dress with purple flowers, and attired as if she were expecting to
take a prize. Mrs. Stimpson was loftily condescending, and asked Mr.
King if this was his first visit. She'd been coming here years and years;
never could get through the spring without a few weeks at the Hygeia.
Mr. King saw a good many people at this hotel who seemed to regard it
as a home.
"I hope your daughter, Mrs. Benson, was not tired out with the rather
long voyage today."
"Not a mite. I guess she enjoyed it. She don't seem to enjoy most things.
She's got everything heart can wish at home. I don't know how it is. I
was tellin' pa, Mr. Benson, today that girls ain't what they used to be in
my time. Takes more to satisfy 'em. Now my daughter, if I say it as
shouldn't, Mr. King, there ain't a better appearin,' nor smarter, nor more
dutiful girl anywhere--well, I just couldn't live without her; and she's
had the best schools in the East and Europe; done all Europe and Rome
and Italy; and after all, somehow, she don't seem contented in
Cyrusville--that's where we live in Ohio--one of the smartest places in
the state; grown right up to be a city since we was married. She never
says anything, but I can see. And we haven't spared anything on our
house. And society--there's a great deal more society than I ever had."
Mr. King might have been astonished at this outpouring if he had not
observed that it is precisely in hotels and to entire strangers that some
people are apt to talk with less reserve than to intimate friends.

"I've no doubt," he said, "you have a lovely home in Cyrusville."
"Well, I guess it's got all the improvements. Pa, Mr. Benson, said that
he didn't know of anything that had been left out, and we had a man up
from Cincinnati, who did all the furnishing before Irene came home."
"Perhaps your daughter would have preferred to furnish it herself?"
"Mebbe so. She said it was splendid, but it looked like somebody else's
house. She says the queerest things sometimes. I told Mr. Benson that I
thought it would be a good thing to go away from home a little while
and travel round. I've never been away much except in New York,
where Mr. Benson has business a good deal. We've been in Washington
this winter."
"Are you going farther south?"
"Yes; we calculate to go down to the New Orleans Centennial. Pa
wants to see the Exposition, and Irene wants to see what the South
looks like, and so do I. I suppose it's perfectly