approaching, he lost some faith in his moods and tenses.
"Mr. Wray," she began, in a tone which was clearly to be heard the length of the table, "you have a handsome wife."
"Yes, ma'am," he drawled. "I'm glad you think so, Mrs. Rumsen."
"A woman with her looks and your money could have the world at her feet if she wished."
"Yes. I've told her the same thing. But I don't think she likes a fuss. Why, I sent up a whole carload of hats – all colors, with plumes and things, but she wouldn't have one of them."
The old lady's deep wrinkles relaxed.
"And diamonds – " he went on. "She's got half a peck, but I can't get her to put them on."
Mrs. Rumsen did not reply, only examined him with her small eyes through her lorgnon.
"You know, Mr. Wray, ever since you came into the room you have been a puzzle to me. Your features resemble those of some one I have known – years ago – some one I have known intimately – curious I can't – "
"Have you ever been West?"
"Oh, yes. Were your people – ?"
"I have no people, Mrs. Rumsen," he said with a quick air of finality.
"Oh!" She still looked at him wonderingly. "I beg your pardon." Then she went on calmly, "You really interest me a great deal. I have seen Westerners in New York before – but you're different – I mean," she added, "the cut of your nose, the lines of your chin, the set of your head on your shoulders. I hope you'll forgive an old woman's curiosity."
Jeff bowed politely. "I'm very much flattered, Mrs. Rumsen."
"You and my brother have business interests in common?"
"Yes, I've a mine – a chain of mines and property interests, including a control of the Denver and Western Railroad."
She laid a hand impressively on his arm.
"Hold them. Take my advice and hold them. I know it is a great temptation to extend your control, to be a big man East and West. But don't try it by weakening what you have. Other men have come here to set the Hudson afire – "
"Some of them have done it, too, Mrs. Rumsen."
She shrugged. "What is the use? You have an empire of your own. Stay at home, develop it. Wouldn't you rather be first in Mantua than second in Rome?"
"I – I'm afraid I don't just take you?"
"I mean, wouldn't you rather be an emperor among your own people than fetch and carry – as so many others are doing – for Wall Street?"
"That's just the point. Only the boot is on the other leg. Wall Street needs the West. Wall Street doesn't think so. It's away behind the times. Those people downtown are so stuck on themselves that they think the whole country is stooping with its ear to the ground listening to what they're doing. Why, Mrs. Rumsen, there are men in the West – big men, too – who think Wall Street is a joke. Funny, isn't it? Wall Street doesn't seem to know that millions of acres of corn, of wheat, and potatoes keep growing just the same. Those things don't wait to hear what Wall Street thinks. Only God Almighty can make 'em stop growing. And as long as they grow, we don't bother much."
She smiled approvingly.
"Then why do you care?"
"Oh, I'm a kind of missionary. These people downtown are heathen critters. They're so ignorant about their own country it almost makes me ashamed to talk to them."
The last vestige of the grenadier aspect in Mrs. Rumsen had vanished, and her face dissolved in smiles.
"Heathens! They are," she laughed delightedly. "Critters – yes, critters, too. Splendid! Have you told Cornelius – my brother – that?"
Wray's truffle stuck in his throat and he gasped, "Good God, ma'am! No. You won't tell him, will you?"
"I'd like to," she chuckled. "But I won't."
Jeff laughed. "I'm afraid I've put my foot in it. I'm apt to. I'm rather a raw product – "
"Whatever you do, Mr. Wray, don't change. You're positively refreshing. Anybody can learn to be good form. It's as simple as a, b, c. If it wasn't easy there wouldn't be so many people practising it. The people in the shops even adopt our adjectives before they're well out of our mouths. Hats are 'smart,' when in earlier days they were simply 'becoming.' Gowns are 'fetching' or 'stunning' that were once merely 'pretty.' Let a fashionable Englishman wear a short coat with a high hat to the Horse Show, and every popinjay in town will be doing the same thing in a week. If you're a raw product, remain so by all means. Raw products are so much more appetizing than half-baked ones."
"I don't think there's any way to make me any different, Mrs. Rumsen," he laughed, "even if I wanted to be. People will have to take me as I am. Your brother has been kind. It seems as if he had a broader view of our people than most of the others."
"Don't be too sure. They're all tarred with the same stick. It's a maxim of mine never to put my trust in any person or thing below Twenty-third Street. The farther downtown you go, the deeper the villainy. You'll find all New Yorkers much the same. Out of business hours they are persons of the most exemplary habits, good fathers, vestrymen in churches, excellent hosts. In business – " she held up her hands in mock horror.
"Oh, I know," Wray chuckled. "But I'm not afraid. I'm something of a wolf myself. Your brother needs me more than I need him. I think we'll get along."
"You have everything you want. Take my advice and keep your money in the West."
"Thanks. But I like New York, and I don't want to be idle. Besides, there's Camilla – Mrs. Wray, you know."
"Yes, I see. I can't blame her. No woman with her looks wants to waste them on mountain scenery. I must know her better – and you. She must let me call on her. I'm giving a ball later. Do you think you could come?"
And the great lady turned to her dinner partner.
The Baroness, too, was amiable. It was her first visit to America. Her husband was an attaché of an embassy in Washington. She had not yet been in the West. Were all the men big, as Mr. Wray was?
She had a charming faculty of injecting the personal note into her questions, and before he was aware of it Wray found himself well launched in a description of his country – the mountains, the plains, the cowboys.
She had never heard of cowboys. What were they? Little cows?
Jeff caught a warning look from Camilla across the table, which softened his laughter. He explained, and the Baroness joined in the merriment. Then he told her that he had been for years a cowpuncher down in Arizona and New Mexico before he went into business, described the "round-up," the grub wagon, and told her of a brush with some Yaqui Indians who were on the warpath. When he began, the other people stopped talking and listened. Jeff was in his element and without embarrassment finished his story amid plaudits. Camilla, listening timidly, was forced to admit that his domination of the table was complete. The conversation became general, a thing which rarely happened at the Bent dinners, and Jeff discovered himself the centre of attention. Almost unconsciously he found himself addressing most of his remarks to a lady opposite, who had listened and questioned with an unusual show of interest.
When the
