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Palmer Pence remained, then, in the seclusion of her "gilded halls," as Abner phrased it, save for occasional excursions and alarums that vivified the columns devoted by the press to the doings of the polite world; and Adrian Bond kept between the covers of his two or three thin little books a confinement richly deserved by a writer so futile, superficial and insincere; but Leverett Whyland was less easily evaded by anybody who "banged about town" and who happened to be interested in public matters.
The two women looked at each other, well pleased. Presently Leverett Whyland came along. The cares of the urban property-owner and of the gentleman farmer were alike cast aside; Abner had never known him to appear so natty, so buoyant, so juvenile. Another man accompanied him, a man older, larger, heavier, graver, with a close-clipped gray beard. This newcomer bowed to Mrs.
No, Abner's thoughts had been focused too long on the wrongs of the rural regions to be able to transfer themselves to the sufferings and injustices of the town. He saw the city collectively as the oppressor of the country, and Leverett Whyland, by reason of Clytie's innocent prattle, became the city incarnate in a single figure. "I know your Mr. Whyland," he said.
Those who had never liked him before began to like him now; those who had liked him before now liked him more than ever. Medora looked across at him; her eyes shone with pleasure and pride. Clytie sat between Pence and Whyland. Whyland's face had already begun to take on the peculiar hard-finish that follows upon success success reached in a certain way. "How about the Settlement?" he asked.
"And all for Abner Joyce!" said Bond. "Another pillar of the temple tottering, eh? and trying to brace itself against the modern Samson." "Not one bit! Not one speck!" cried Clytie. "Only " "Well, there are others," said Bond. "I'm prostrate already, as you know. And Whyland, only a few mornings back, got a good jar that will help finish him, I'm thinking." "Did he? And there's Aunt Eudoxia too.
"Now," he said, in a low tone, "you must let me have my way if it isn't too late. Come." He led Abner toward the dining-room. "It is nothing," said Abner, on his return. "It is something, I am sure," said Edith Whyland, with great solicitude. "It is something serious, I feel certain," said Medora, pale as her dress. "Nonsense!" exclaimed Abner.
Whyland also looked over Clytie Summers, and found no serious harm in her. "She is rather underbred or 'modern, I suppose I should call it, and she's more or less in a state of ferment; but I dare say she will come out all right in the end. However, my Evelyn shall never be taken through the slums: I think Leverett will be willing to draw the line there."
He looked about at her and then out upon the clearing floor. "Well, well," said Mrs. Whyland once again. The wide, empty space before them was lending itself to a second grand entree, by a party of one. Clytie Summers had finally arrived.
He brought back to Medora what he saw the other men bringing a spoonful of ice-cream with a thin slice of cake, and a cup of coffee of limited size. Truly the material for an orgy seemed rather scanty. "I am glad you promised to read," said Medora. "It is a favour that Mrs. Whyland will appreciate very much." Abner bowed. Surely it was a favour, and appreciation was no more than his due.
The two long winding lines of gaily attired young people joined forces and the procession came marching down the hall by fours, by eights, by sixteens, and Abner sat against the wall next to Edith Whyland and watched the shifting spectacle with a sort of fearful joy.
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