In short, Nora had spoken truthfully. She had seen a man dressed in white
flannels and canvas shoes, but her eyes had not traveled so far as his
face.
"Mother, we must have some of those silk blankets. They're so comfy to lie
on."
"You never see anything except when you want to," complained Mrs.
Harrigan.
"It saves a deal of trouble. I don't want to go to the colonel's this
afternoon. He always has some frump to pour tea and ask fool questions."
"The frump, as you call her, is usually a countess or a duchess," with
asperity.
"Fiddlesticks! Nobility makes a specialty of frumps; it is one of the
species of the caste. That's why I shall never marry a title. I wish
neither to visit nor to entertain frumps. Frump,--the word calls up the
exact picture; frump and fatuity. Oh, I'll go, but I'd rather stay on my
balcony and read a good book."
"My dear," patiently, "the colonel is one of the social laws on Como. His
sister is the wife of an earl. You must not offend him. His Sundays are
the most exclusive on the lake."
"The word exclusive should be properly applied to those in jail. The
social ladder, the social ladder! Don't you know, mother mine, that every
rung is sawn by envy and greed, and that those who climb highest fall
farthest?"
"You are quoting the padre."
"The padre could give lessons in kindness and shrewdness to any other man
I know. If he hadn't chosen the gown he would have been a poet. I love the
padre, with his snow-white hair and his withered leathery face. He was
with the old king all through the freeing of Italy."
"And had a fine time explaining to the Vatican," sniffed the mother.
"Some day I am going to confess to him."
"Confess what?" asked Celeste.
"That I have wished the Calabrian's voice would fail her some night in
Carmen; that I am wearing shoes a size too small for me; that I should
like to be rich without labor; that I am sometimes ashamed of my calling;
that I should have liked to see father win a prizefight; oh, and a
thousand other horrid, hateful things."
"I wish to gracious that you would fall violently in love."
"Spiteful! There are those lovely lace collars; come on."
"You are hopeless," was the mother's conviction.
"In some things, yes," gravely.
"Some day," said Celeste, who was a privileged person in the Harrigan
family, "some day I am going to teach you two how to play at foils. It
would be splendid. And then you could always settle your differences with
bouts."
"Better than that," retorted Nora. "I'll ask father to lend us his old set
of gloves. He carries them around as if they were a fetish. I believe
they're in the bottom of one of my steamer trunks."