in. But to be fully candidâand what else is the point of my talking?âyes, pride
does
have a part in it. For why else should it so irritate me to think of all the people who will be saying: 'Poor Kitty. She's missed out on another goldbug. Perhaps she'd better learn to play her cards more subtly.'"
"I've never heard anyone say anything like that about you," he averred stoutly.
"Thank you, my friend, but your nose is just a mite longer. The trouble with the reputation I'm developing is not that it's deserved but that it can come to be. Living among the rich and seeing how badly they do it, it's impossible not to speculate on how much better one would do it oneself, given half the chance. And that kind of speculation can lead to your beginning to pick and choose a mate, at least in your imagination, among the young male goldbugs. The mate who might most adequately fund your mental experiments. Add to that a desperate desire to get out of your rut and the first thing you know, you've become a gold digger!"
"But you're not that."
"Not yet, anyway."
"Keep an eye on me, then."
He smiled as he gave her a long look. But she didn't smile back. Nor was there even a faint hint of flirtatiousness in her drawn expression. They had to drop the subject as Ezra Jr. and Miss Jennings came over to join them, and Kitty became at once as cheerful and welcoming as if she had made the match.
S OME WEEKS LATER , on a Sunday evening, he was sitting with his mother in the library, he with an opened but unread novel of Marion Crawford in his lap, and she with her eternal needlework. With the black satin that she had consistently worn since her husband's death and her white widow's cap, she might have seemed a milder Queen Victoria whose benevolent blue eyes occasionally took in the silent figure of her youngest child.
"If
Saracinesca
doesn't amuse you, my dear, you must have something on your mind. Didn't you tell me it was something of a thriller?"
"Oh, yes, it's that. It's just that I'm not in much of a reading mood tonight."
"You should have something more attractive to come home to than an old mother bent over her needlework and a sister who's gone to her Bible class."
"Oh, Ma, not that wedding theme again! Do you really want to be all alone in this house?"
"I have Annie. She's rarely away, as you know. She goes out all too little, poor dear. And one child is surely enough for any old parent to keep at home. Not that I wouldn't welcome some nice young man who might take a shine to Annie, but she doesn't seem very much that way inclined. But you, on the contrary, have a whole world of young lovelies to pick from. You have only to choose."
"Ma, you exaggerate as always my attractions. I'm a very small butterfly in the world I flutter about in. Not many of your 'lovelies,' as you call them, are seeking to add me to their collection with a pin through my abdomen."
"That's because you won't see, my dear."
"Whom won't I see? Name one."
His mother was prompt and definite in her reply. "Kitty Atwater."
Startled, he let his book fall to the floor. "Mother! What makes you think there's anything between me and Kitty Atwater?"
"The fact that you never mention her. And that I know you've been seeing her. Annie told me."
"Annie's a gossip. An old maid gossip."
"She's no such thing. Why shouldn't she mention that you've been seeing a bright, pretty girl like Kitty? Of course, I've only met her a couple of times, but she strikes me as perfectly charming, and I hear good things about her. I know she has a fool of a mother, but the poor girl can't help that, and no one's suggesting that you marry Mrs. Atwater."
"You're only suggesting that I marry her daughter. And what makes you think there's the slightest likelihood of my being accepted by a young lady surrounded by the richest young bloods in town?"
"If she's so surrounded, why hasn't she married one?"
"That's a fair question, I admit. But, Mother, the fact that she hasn't landed
does
have a part in it. For why else should it so irritate me to think of all the people who will be saying: 'Poor Kitty. She's missed out on another goldbug. Perhaps she'd better learn to play her cards more subtly.'"
"I've never heard anyone say anything like that about you," he averred stoutly.
"Thank you, my friend, but your nose is just a mite longer. The trouble with the reputation I'm developing is not that it's deserved but that it can come to be. Living among the rich and seeing how badly they do it, it's impossible not to speculate on how much better one would do it oneself, given half the chance. And that kind of speculation can lead to your beginning to pick and choose a mate, at least in your imagination, among the young male goldbugs. The mate who might most adequately fund your mental experiments. Add to that a desperate desire to get out of your rut and the first thing you know, you've become a gold digger!"
"But you're not that."
"Not yet, anyway."
"Keep an eye on me, then."
He smiled as he gave her a long look. But she didn't smile back. Nor was there even a faint hint of flirtatiousness in her drawn expression. They had to drop the subject as Ezra Jr. and Miss Jennings came over to join them, and Kitty became at once as cheerful and welcoming as if she had made the match.
S OME WEEKS LATER , on a Sunday evening, he was sitting with his mother in the library, he with an opened but unread novel of Marion Crawford in his lap, and she with her eternal needlework. With the black satin that she had consistently worn since her husband's death and her white widow's cap, she might have seemed a milder Queen Victoria whose benevolent blue eyes occasionally took in the silent figure of her youngest child.
"If
Saracinesca
doesn't amuse you, my dear, you must have something on your mind. Didn't you tell me it was something of a thriller?"
"Oh, yes, it's that. It's just that I'm not in much of a reading mood tonight."
"You should have something more attractive to come home to than an old mother bent over her needlework and a sister who's gone to her Bible class."
"Oh, Ma, not that wedding theme again! Do you really want to be all alone in this house?"
"I have Annie. She's rarely away, as you know. She goes out all too little, poor dear. And one child is surely enough for any old parent to keep at home. Not that I wouldn't welcome some nice young man who might take a shine to Annie, but she doesn't seem very much that way inclined. But you, on the contrary, have a whole world of young lovelies to pick from. You have only to choose."
"Ma, you exaggerate as always my attractions. I'm a very small butterfly in the world I flutter about in. Not many of your 'lovelies,' as you call them, are seeking to add me to their collection with a pin through my abdomen."
"That's because you won't see, my dear."
"Whom won't I see? Name one."
His mother was prompt and definite in her reply. "Kitty Atwater."
Startled, he let his book fall to the floor. "Mother! What makes you think there's anything between me and Kitty Atwater?"
"The fact that you never mention her. And that I know you've been seeing her. Annie told me."
"Annie's a gossip. An old maid gossip."
"She's no such thing. Why shouldn't she mention that you've been seeing a bright, pretty girl like Kitty? Of course, I've only met her a couple of times, but she strikes me as perfectly charming, and I hear good things about her. I know she has a fool of a mother, but the poor girl can't help that, and no one's suggesting that you marry Mrs. Atwater."
"You're only suggesting that I marry her daughter. And what makes you think there's the slightest likelihood of my being accepted by a young lady surrounded by the richest young bloods in town?"
"If she's so surrounded, why hasn't she married one?"
"That's a fair question, I admit. But, Mother, the fact that she hasn't landed
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