The Younger Set. Chambers Robert William

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      Selwyn, mortified, said severely: "That is a very dreadful song, Billy—"

      "But you taught it to me—"

      Eileen swung around on the piano stool, but Selwyn had seized Billy and was promising to bolo him as soon as he wished.

      And Eileen, surveying the scene from her perch, thought that Selwyn's years seemed to depend entirely upon his occupation, for he looked very boyish down there on his knees among the children; and she had not yet forgotten the sunken pallor of his features in the Park—no, nor her own question to him, still unanswered. For she had asked him who that woman was who had been so direct in her smiling salute. And he had not yet replied; probably never would; for she did not expect to ask him again.

      Meanwhile the bolo-men were rushing the outposts to the outposts' intense satisfaction.

      "Bang-bang!" repeated Winthrop; "I hit you, Uncle Philip. You are dead, you know!"

      "Yes, but here comes another! Fire!" shouted Billy. "Save the flag! Hurrah! Pound on the piano, Eileen, and pretend it's cannon."

      Chord after chord reverberated through the big sunny room, punctuated by all the cavalry music she had picked up from West Point and her friends in the squadron.

      "We can't get 'em up!

      We can't get 'em up!

      We can't get 'em up

      In the morning!"

      she sang, calmly watching the progress of the battle, until Selwyn disengaged himself from the mêlée and sank breathlessly into a chair.

      "All over," he said, declining further combat. "Play the 'Star-spangled Banner,' Miss Erroll."

      "Boom!" crashed the chord for the sunset gun; then she played the anthem; Selwyn rose, and the children stood up at salute.

      The party was over.

      Selwyn and Miss Erroll, strolling together out of the nursery and down the stairs, fell unconsciously into the amiable exchange of badinage again; she taunting him with his undignified behaviour, he retorting in kind.

      "Anyway that was a perfectly dreadful verse you taught Billy," she concluded.

      "Not as dreadful as the chorus," he remarked, wincing.

      "You're exactly like a bad small boy, Captain Selwyn; you look like one now—so sheepish! I've seen Gerald attempt to avoid admonition in exactly that fashion."

      "How about a jolly brisk walk?" he inquired blandly; "unless you've something on. I suppose you have."

      "Yes, I have; a tea at the Fanes, a function at the Grays. . . . Do you know Sudbury Gray? It's his mother."

      They had strolled into the living room—a big, square, sunny place, in golden greens and browns, where a bay-window overlooked the Park.

      Kneeling on the cushions of the deep window seat she flattened her delicate nose against the glass, peering out through the lace hangings.

      "Everybody and his family are driving," she said over her shoulder. "The rich and great are cornering the fresh-air supply. It's interesting, isn't it, merely to sit here and count coteries! There is Mrs. Vendenning and Gladys Orchil of the Black Fells set; there is that pretty Mrs. Delmour-Carnes; Newport! Here come some Cedarhurst people—the Fleetwoods. It always surprises one to see them out of the saddle. There is Evelyn Cardwell; she came out when I did; and there comes Sandon Craig with a very old lady—there, in that old-fashioned coach—oh, it is Mrs. Jan Van Elten, senior. What a very, very quaint old lady! I have been presented at court," she added, with a little laugh, "and now all the law has been fulfilled."

      For a while she kneeled there, silently intent on the passing pageant with all the unconscious curiosity of a child. Presently, without turning: "They speak of the younger set—but what is its limit? So many, so many people! The hunting crowd—the silly crowd—the wealthy sets—the dreadful yellow set—then all those others made out of metals—copper and coal and iron and—" She shrugged her youthful shoulders, still intent on the passing show.

      "Then there are the intellectuals—the artistic, the illuminated, the musical sorts. I—I wish I knew more of them. They were my father's friends—some of them." She looked over her shoulder to see where Selwyn was, and whether he was listening; smiled at him, and turned, resting one hand on the window seat. "So many kinds of people," she said, with a shrug.

      "Yes," said Selwyn lazily, "there are all kinds of kinds. You remember that beautiful nature-poem:

      "'The sea-gull

      And the eagul

      And the dipper-dapper-duck

      And the Jew-fish

      And the blue-fish

      And the turtle in the muck;

      And the squir'l

      And the girl

      And the flippy floppy bat

      Are differ-ent

      As gent from gent.

      So let it go at that!'"

      "What hideous nonsense," she laughed, in open encouragement; but he could recall nothing more—or pretended he couldn't.

      "You asked me," he said, "whether I know Sudbury Gray. I do, slightly. What about him?" And he waited, remembering Nina's suggestion as to that wealthy young man's eligibility.

      "He's one of the nicest men I know," she replied frankly.

      "Yes, but you don't know 'Boots' Lansing."

      "The gentleman who was bucked out of his footwear? Is he attractive?"

      "Rather. Shrieks rent the air when 'Boots' left Manila."

      "Feminine shrieks?"

      "Exclusively. The men were glad enough. He has three months' leave this winter, so you'll see him soon."

      She thanked him mockingly for the promise, watching him from amused eyes. After a moment she said:

      "I ought to arise and go forth with timbrels and with dances; but, do you know, I am not inclined to revels? There has been a little—just a very little bit too much festivity so far. . . . Not that I don't adore dinners and gossip and dances; not that I do not love to pervade bright and glittering places. Oh, no. Only—I—"

      She looked shyly a moment at Selwyn: "I sometimes feel a curious desire for other things. I have been feeling it all day."

      "What things?"

      "I—don't know—exactly; substantial things. I'd like to learn about things. My father was the head of the American School of Archæology in Crete. My mother was his intellectual equal, I believe—"

      Her voice had fallen as she spoke. "Do you wonder that physical pleasure palls a little at times? I inherit something besides a capacity for dancing."

      He nodded, watching her with an interest and curiosity totally new.

      "When I was ten years old I was taken abroad for the winter. I saw the excavations in Crete for the buried city which father discovered near Præsos. We lived for a while with Professor Flanders in the Fayum district; I saw the ruins of Kahun, built nearly three thousand years before the coming of Christ; I myself picked СКАЧАТЬ