Montague had now been officially pronounced complete
by his tailor; and Reval had sent home the first of
Alice’s street gowns, elaborately plain, but
fitting her conspicuously, and costing accordingly.
So the next morning they were ready to be taken to
call upon Mrs. Devon.
Of course Montague had heard of the Devons, but he
was not sufficiently initiated to comprehend just
what it meant to be asked to call. But when Oliver
came in, a little before noon, and proceeded to examine
his costume and to put him to rights, and insisted
that Alice should have her hair done over, he began
to realize that this was a special occasion.
Oliver was in quite a state of excitement; and after
they had left the hotel, and were driving up the Avenue,
he explained to them that their future in Society
depended upon the outcome of this visit. Calling
upon Mrs. Devon, it seemed, was the American equivalent
to being presented at court. For twenty-five
years this grand lady had been the undisputed mistress
of the Society of the metropolis; and if she liked
them, they would be invited to her annual ball, which
took place in January, and then for ever after their
position would be assured. Mrs. Devon’s
ball was the one great event of the social year; about
one thousand people were asked, while ten thousand
disappointed ones gnashed their teeth in outer darkness.
All of which threw Alice into a state of trepidation.
“Suppose we don’t suit her!” she
said.
To that the other replied that their way had been
made smooth by Reggie Mann, who was one of Mrs. Devon’s
favourites.
A century and more ago the founder of the Devon line
had come to America, and invested his savings in land
on Manhattan Island. Other people had toiled
and built a city there, and generation after generation
of the Devons had sat by and collected the rents, until
now their fortune amounted to four or five hundred
millions of dollars. They were the richest old
family in America, and the most famous; and in Mrs.
Devon, the oldest member of the line, was centred
all its social majesty and dominion. She lived
a stately and formal life, precisely like a queen;
no one ever saw her save upon her raised chair of
state, and she wore her jewels even at breakfast.
She was the arbiter of social destinies, and the breakwater
against which the floods of new wealth beat in vain.
Reggie Mann told wonderful tales about the contents
of her enormous mail—about wives and daughters
of mighty rich men who flung themselves at her feet
and pleaded abjectly for her favour—who
laid siege to her house for months, and intrigued
and pulled wires to get near her, and even bought
the favour of her servants! If Reggie might be
believed, great financial wars had been fought, and
the stock-markets of the world convulsed more than
once, because of these social struggles; and women
of wealth and beauty had offered to sell themselves
for the privilege which was so freely granted to them.
