Ancestors: A Novel

  XXVIII

  The Rosewater Literary, Political, and Improvement Club met on the firstand fourth Thursdays of the month, in a large room on the top floor ofthe Town Hall, and across the corridor from the Public Library. Savingonly the business section of Rosewater, rejuvenated by the fruitfulLeghorn, there was no such centre of activity within forty miles.Rosewater, once as disreputable as San Francisco in the Fifties, nowcontributed but an occasional drunkard or burglar to the languid powerson the first floor of the Town Hall. The reading public was largelyconfined to young girls with the taste for romance fresh on the palate.The new books wandered in a year after the rest of the world hadforgotten them, and rarely in couples. One copy was quite able to quenchthe thirst for "keeping up," and was often read aloud in the intervalsbetween cards. The standard works were well represented, however, and areasonable amount of history. "All Rosewater's good for," quoth one ofthe biting wits of St. Peter, "is to die in. If you're born there peoplenever forget it; it sticks to you like a strawberry mark on the end ofyour nose. And if you live there you might as well be dead, anyhow."Rosewater retorted that if St. Peter had a better library it was becauseshe had nothing else to do than read, and, for all its court-house, wasnothing but a suburb of Rosewater, anyway; or at the best a mereheadquarters for drummers.

  On the afternoon following Mrs. Haight's card-party the large sunny roomwith its outlook upon marsh and hill was filled promptly at two o'clock;for the word had flown about town that Minerva Haight was on thewar-path and that the scalp she pursued was Isabel Otis's. ThePresident, as she rapped for order, betrayed no ruffling of the humorousimperturbability that had made her a power in Rosewater. Mrs. Leslie,although of "the old Southern set" of San Francisco, had none of theexternal elegances of Mrs. Wheaton, Mrs. Boutts and Dolly, or even ofher own daughter. She was generally to be seen in a rusty black frockand bonnet, a pair of eye-glasses in black frames bestriding the bridgeof her nose. But her eyes were very black and bright, her mouth was asfirm as it was kind and humorous. Beside her sat the Treasurer, Mrs.Wheaton, whom Mrs. Leslie understood as thoroughly as she did everymember of the flock that was really hers, although in matters of meresociety she disdained to lead it. Mrs. Wheaton, for all her petty airsand evil-scenting profile, was really a woman of high ideals. Herseverity to others was due to the secret knowledge that these idealswere beyond her personal accomplishment, and the satisfaction to bederived from audibly rating the failings of her neighbors. Her highestideal was self-control, particularly in relation to the weaknesses ofthe flesh; but after a period of stern abstinence, she indulgedinordinately in oysters, fried chicken with cream gravy, and ice-creamwith cocoanut cake; and sipped a night-cap upon retiring. Her passionfor cards had long since routed her will; but she intended to reformwholly in time, for she walked in fear of the Lord. If she judged theyoung harshly, she persuaded herself that she had only their well-beingat heart. She was one of the pillars of the church and gave liberally toits support.

  Mrs. Haight, who, as we have seen, enjoyed one of those purelyfortuitous reputations for cleverness, was Secretary of the combinedwings of the Club, and sat on Mrs. Leslie's left. Mrs. Wheaton's portlyperson was sheathed in purple velvet, and there were handsome stringsbetween two of her chins, but Mrs. Haight wore a battered hat ofNeapolitan straw bedecked with a ragged bunch of carnations. It sat onone side of her ill-kept head, giving her a singularly rakish anddefinite appearance. She was furthermore attired in an old Paisley shawlbelonging to her grandmother--what better way to advertise agrandmother?--over a blue alpaca frock made by her own unskilfulfingers. Mr. Haight was the most prosperous druggist in Rosewater, buthis wife had sounding virtues.

  The other members of the Club, some sixty in number, were as variouslydressed as became their pockets or proclivities, decently for the mostpart, for there was no poverty in Rosewater. Mrs. Leslie took no noticeof the charged atmosphere, but proceeded to business as methodically asif engaged in her morning housekeeping. The minutes of the last meetingwere read by Mrs. Haight, in the cultivated tones of one who had recitedupon the stage of her youth, "Curfew shall not ring to-night," and "TheWreck of the Hesperus." The huskily strident voice trembled slightly,but she read several pages of foolscap without a break, and finishedwith a flourish. Then Mrs. Leslie, in spite of scraping chairs, askedMrs. Colton, Chairman of the Improvement Inspection Committee to readher report on the condition of the new concrete pavements, of severalhomesick palm-trees in the public squares, and on the prospect ofremoving tin cans and soda-water bottles from the picnic grounds. Thisresort was near the marsh, and it was the pet project of the ladies ofRosewater to extend it into a boulevard as far as Point Santiago, sothat "public picnickers" should find an additional reason for spendingtheir money in Rosewater, and extend the fame of the town. They hadendeavored to extract the funds from their stingy lords by privatesubscription, failing an appeal to the City Fathers, who found otheruses for the public funds; but even the civic Mr. Boutts was not readyfor such an outlay. The women--who had accomplished so much, havingliterally transformed Rosewater from a broken-down pioneer country towninto one of the prettiest spots in California--had by no meansdespaired; and when Mrs. Colton finished her report, Mrs. Leslieremarked:

  "Our boulevard may be nearer than you think. Mr. Gwynne has conceived aproject for reclaiming the marsh-lands, and converting them, by means oflevees and those tremendous dredges and pumps, into arable land--likethe reclaimed islands of the San Joaquin River; and has persuaded TomColton to present a bill to that effect at the next meeting of thelegislature--asking for an appropriation for the levees, at least. Hehas himself promised a handsome contribution for the boulevard,convinced that it will add materially to the wealth and importance ofthe town. He has even talked over Mr. Boutts--an importantconversion"--nodding smilingly at Mrs. Boutts--"and Isabel Otis, who hasforty-five acres of marsh, has promised that if the bill goes throughshe will also contribute a thousand dollars. She not only realized atonce that the boulevard would bring more capital to Rosewater, but shemeans to sow the reclaimed land with asparagus--and we all know theprofit in that. Her attitude and comprehension of the matter havegratified me extremely, almost as much as her continued residence inRosewater after all her fine experiences abroad; to say nothing ofengaging personally in a lucrative business instead of playing with itand leaving the actual work to dishonest help. She is an example I wishmore of our young women would follow. But as regards Mr. Gwynne: I thinkhe deserves a vote of thanks. He comes here a total stranger with animmense estate, from which he could derive a sufficient income for hispleasures, and he has already devoted a considerable amount of his timeand splendid mental abilities to the welfare of this little town. A fewof our older men have some public spirit, an idea or two beyond liningtheir pockets, but we do not boast a single young man who cares whetherwe have camellias or cabbages in the public squares. I feel sure thatMr. Gwynne will supply this deficiency and be a host in himself. I havetalked with him several times, and he has said, in so many words, thatas he intends to make this county his home he purposes to accomplishsomething in the way of general improvement. This means that he will,for my husband says that he not only has remarkable mind and will, butthat he is a young man of incorruptible honor--and I know of nocombination that we need more. So, ladies, I propose that we pass a voteof thanks to Mr. Gwynne, thus not only showing our appreciation of hisinterest, but securing his friendship for the Club."

  Mrs. Haight rose, sallow and trembling. She felt her sails flappingabout her, but none the less was she determined to reach her goal if shehad to get out and swim. She knew the President well enough to controlthe hissing of her venom, but as she turned to address the chair shefound it impossible to imbue her tones with the suavity proper in abaleful counsel for the prosecution.

  "Mrs. President, Ladies!" she began, clearing her throat. "Beforepassing a vote of thanks to Mr. Gwynne I think it my duty to ask youdispassionately if you really think he is a person from whom we canafford to receive favors.
And above all, if Isabel Otis should bepermitted any sort of contact with the Club she has scornfully refusedto join. That is not the point, however. The point is that I maintainthat neither of them is fit for respectable people to associate with."She felt that her summary was precipitate, and drawing herself updefiantly looked hard at Mrs. Leslie. The President was regarding herimpassively.

  "Why not?" she asked.

  "Because! As you force me to say it, Mr. Gwynne is out at Old Inn untilall hours of the night. I have seen him riding home as late as half-pastten again and again. And I happen to know that before _that_ LadyVictoria came, they were practically alone in the house on Russian Hillone whole night. Mrs. Filkins, as you know, lives on Taylor Street, andshe saw Paula Stone pass her house in the afternoon looking as mad as ahornet--she was sure she wasn't going back, and found out afterwardsthat she hadn't; and she saw Mr. Gwynne come down those steps at seveno'clock the next morning--going to catch the seven-thirty boat--lookingas pleased with himself as Punch. But I might have stood all that for awhile yet; I might have given Isabel the benefit of the doubt, since shehad _asked_ Paula to chaperon her, and might have found out too latethat she had gone--for she was gallivanting herself all day; I mighthave overlooked his staying so often till ten-thirty--although Imaintain that an unmarried girl living alone on a ranch without evenfemale help is a disgrace to any community--yes, I might have swallowedthat for a while longer; but this morning--at three o'clock--Isaw--_with my own eyes, ladles_--Mr. Gwynne riding home from Old Inn onIsabel Otis's sorrel horse Kaiser. Now I, for one, don't stand for suchgoings on. I propose that instead of passing a vote of thanks to Mr.Gwynne we pass a resolution to _cut_ both of them, and show them what adecent community is."

  She sat down in her flounces, and Mrs. Wheaton rose and seconded themotion. The others looked rather frightened, although alert andinterested, and Mrs. Colton rose hastily and proposed that beforeputting such a momentous question to the vote, the whole matter shouldbe thoroughly investigated.

  "We must also have the advice of our President," she added. "For mypart, although I do not approve of young unmarried women living alone,still I cannot believe such dreadful things of anybody, let alone IsabelOtis. I am glad Anabel is not here. She would never listen to anyinsinuation against Isabel, and might be tempted to disrespect of herelders."

  "And you, Mrs. Boutts?" asked the President.

  "As a woman of the world I have not that implicit faith in human naturethat some people are still so happy as to cherish. My daughter--whorefused to come to-day, knowing the subject to be discussed--isindignant at these reports; but of course she is a mere child, and verymuch fascinated by Miss Otis. I do not by any means approve of thedrastic methods proposed by Mrs. Haight--I should hope that Californiahad taken _some_ of the old puritanical spirit out of us--but I do thinkthat Miss Otis should be given to understand that she cannot importEuropean fashions into Rosewater, and that she must have a chaperon. Lether feel that she has acted unwisely, at the very least, by not invitingher to any of the young people's gatherings in the future."

  "As there are no more except for card-playing, and as she has recentlybeen the only hostess at an evening party the town has boasted for twoyears, your virtuous wrath bids fair to blow past her unheeded. Mrs.Plews, will you address us?"

  Mrs. Plews was the wife of the pastor of the aristocratic Episcopalianchurch, a pretty fluffy young woman, who visited the sick and madeexcellent ice-cream for the church festivals. "Oh, I don't know!" sheexclaimed, deprecatingly. "It is all too dreadful! I no longer regretthat Miss Otis does not come to church. I had thought of remonstratingwith her once more--but when I recalled the last time! Now, it is indeedwell that she has not been associating with our young folks. I am sorrythis was not known before her party; I must really talk to Mr. Plewsbefore I can say anything further."

  "Mrs. Toffitt, I am sure that you have something to say--and an opinionof your own."

  Mrs. Toffitt, a buxom highly colored woman of forty, who, since herhusband's death, the year before, had continued his business--a generalfeed store--with striking success, and who was one of the most popularwomen in Rosewater, with her abounding good-nature, her high spirits,and her utter independence of speech, sprang to her feet.

  "I have this to say," she cried. "For a lot of puritanical, prying,spying, detestable old hens, we take the cake. Isabel Otis minds her ownbusiness. Why, in heaven's name, can't we mind ours? Does she oweanybody anything? Has she taken anybody's beau away? Anybody's husband?Does she walk the streets doing nothing but show herself, or go buggyriding with one fellow after another? Does she ever refuse money forcharity, or for our improvements when it's asked of her? Was she acredit to the town with her record at the High School, or wasn't she?Are we proud of her travels in Europe, her high-toned connections, herbusiness sense, the way she acted to that old reprobate of a father, orain't we? That's what I want to know. And she's got real intellectinstead of just the average American brightness; that's the secret ofthe whole trouble. What if she does sit up all night talking to a manwho's got something besides chickens and dollars in his head? I'd do thesame if I had the chance. Just make a note of that. If Mr. Gwynne likesto transfer his attentions to me I'll sit up all night right on MinervaHaight's doorstep, and talk about any old thing he wants. If I was asyoung and handsome as Isabel Otis I'd keep the best man going to myself,bet your life on it! And I repeat, it's nobody's business." She whirledupon the pallid Minerva with a flaming face. "Nice business you'rein--sitting at your window all night watching for other people's slips.You'd make one fast enough if the Lord would let you, and that's what'sthe matter with you. Now, put that in your pipe and smoke it."

  She sat down amid much laughter and applause. Mrs. Leslie rappedvigorously for order, although her mouth was twitching.

  "Now, ladies," she said, suavely, "if you have all relieved your minds Iwill say a few words. First of all, I wish to state that I shall refuseto put the matter to a vote. It is a question that does not come withinthe jurisdiction of the Club, which was not organized to supervisemorals as well as streets and sewers. You can all act towards Isabel andMr. Gwynne exactly as your consciences dictate, but for my own part, Ihave this to say: I am astonished to find that the Club life, a lifewhich women the world over have prided themselves upon as the greatestfactor in broadening and elevating that their sex has ever known, seemsto have done, in our case at least, so little to eradicate certainOriental instincts and traditions. The cities are full of young womenliving alone, and self-supporting. Why should not a girl have the sameprivilege in the country? Because she is handsome and distinguished? Ifancy that a good many girls in analogous circumstances are passingunnoticed. I have not the least doubt that a very respectable percentageof very respectable young women, living alone in their city flats, situp late and talk to men that are interesting enough to keep them awake.I am quite sure that were I young in these emancipated times I shouldtake full advantage of them. And emancipated is what we pretend tobe--although the word itself is somewhat outmoded; a healthy sign,proving that we are no longer labelled. And if that does not meanpersonal liberty, freedom from the old ridiculous restrictions thatwere an insult to womanhood itself, what does it mean? It is a part ofour mission to make woman as free and independent and happy as men, andwithout the slightest danger to the old high moral standards; for nowoman that has had it in her to go wrong ever waited for the permissionof her own sex. We are, in fact, we Club Women, the great sieve thatseparates the wheat from the chaff; the chaff has no more use for usthan we have for it, and we are too wise in our own sex to waste anytime on it. The women that were born to be the playthings of men are ina class apart--to be dealt with, to be sure, by Societies organized forand experienced in that purpose; and we have not even considered them inthe stupendous effort we have made to secure the freedom of the higherorder of women from the old miserable social thralldoms. And what wehave accomplished is historic.

  "I have seen extraordinary changes in my time. When I w
as young a womanwas an old maid at twenty-five. There was no appeal. To-day there are noold maids. Twenty years ago, in that old exclusive set of San Franciscoled by Mrs. Yorba, Mrs. Montgomery, and for a little while by poor MaryBelmont, it was almost unheard of for a girl of the better class to walkalone on the street. If a man joined her the city fermented. Now, whatwith the influx of all these new people, the social laws have beenmodified to such an extent that my old friends must turn in theirgraves; although, of course, and very properly, a certain amount ofchaperonage for young society girls is still demanded. But it is a mereharness of flowers, worn as a sort of a joke for most of the people insociety to-day have flown upward on happy golden wings from stratawhere as much was known of chaperons as the American newspapers knowabout handling British titles. But, for my part, I find the whole changea vast improvement. Nothing could be duller than a girl's life in mytime. And if society--the world of mere fashion--has broadened, how muchmore should be expected of us, who are the vanguard of our sex? who haveset out to free women from every sort of senseless bondage they hadendured for centuries, and no more from the tyranny of the physicallystronger sex than through their own silliness and cowardice.

  "We are struggling to enfranchise our sex. We would like to try our handat regulating the affairs of the nation. Here, in these smaller towns,all over the country, we have proved a far greater power forimprovements of all sorts than men. Rosewater owes to us, and to usalone, its beautifully paved and shaded streets--we have no difficultyin remembering what a barren mud-hole it was--the trees that shade thepoor horses at the hitching-rails; the beautiful squares, the tropicalplants and trees, the improved sewerage system, the cleanliness of themarsh border, everything in fact that has transformed Rosewater from amere set of roofs and walls into a delightfully habitable town.Moreover, we have raised both the moral and the intellectual tone, foralthough I at least have always discouraged too much interest inpeople's private affairs, the higher interests, and the increasedintimacy among women, have done much to keep them out of mischief. Untilthis card fever descended upon the town, it was generally regarded asoccupying a high place among communities of its size. Cards, however, Iregard as a passing madness; it merely means that even yet we have notenough to do.

  "And--so it seems!--in spite of all that we have accomplished, in spiteof our long and ofttimes disheartening struggle to lift ourselves abovethe average female woman, we are as ready to tear reputations to piecesas ever, to judge by mere appearances, to discount general character andbehavior, to forget our ideals and give unlicensed rein to the mean anddetestable qualities we still cherish in common with the mass ofunenlightened women. I do not assert that I have never heard gossip frommen; but it has always been from the men that spend their lives in Clubwindows, never from men that had some better way of filling their time.From my husband I have never heard a scurrilous word of any one, and hehas a temper of his own, too. Now, so far as I can make out, we have notonly been trying to usurp the time-honored prerogatives of men, but toattain their highest standards. While I deprecate violence of statement,I am inclined to agree with Mrs. Toffitt that a woman belonging to thisClub, a Club which stands high in the Club life of the State, shouldhave something better to do than to spend the night at her window spyingon her neighbors. If she cannot sleep she can improve her mind or sewfor the poor. If a man engaged in such nefarious night work and brazenlyadmitted it, I will venture to say that his Club, or his Lodge, at allevents, would ask for his resignation. It would be quite in order withour avowed principles that we reprimanded Mrs. Haight instead of MissOtis, but we will let the matter pass this time with a mere hint. Onepoint is, by-the-way, that the latter not being a member of the Club itwould be the height of impertinence to take her to task. But in any caseI personally refuse even to consider the question of anything beingotherwise with her than it should be. There is, no doubt, some whollycommonplace explanation of Mr. Gwynne's passing through Rosewater on herhorse this morning. As for their constant companionship, what morenatural? They are closely related, and she has been a very necessarysister to him. Nevertheless, I shall make it my unpleasant business totell her that we are still the same old females, still incapable ofconceiving of aught but one relationship between unmarried members ofopposite sexes, that our imaginations and our positive knowledge of lifeare alike undeveloped. Then she can take a chaperon or not as shepleases. She will always be welcome in my house; and as for my daughter,she will only laugh at this tempest of her elders in a tea-pot. That isall I have to say."

  She finished amid much applause, some shamefaced, some hearty, but therewere a number of lowering brows. When adjournment was declared a fewmoments later, she left at once, but the others remained to talk thematter over. The ingrained love of finding our sister worse thanourselves is not to be eradicated by a few years of Club life, andalthough the majority decided that Mrs. Leslie was quite in the right,several announced their intention to cut Isabel Otis. There was noinformal resolution taken to ignore the matter, and, on the whole, Mrs.Haight went home with her crest up, and Mrs. Wheaton fasted for threedays.