It was not possible, however, not to invite the Butlers, parents and children, particularly the children, for both afternoon and evening, since Cowperwood was personally attracted to Aileen and despite the fact that the presence of the parents would be most unsatisfactory.  Even Aileen as he knew was a little unsatisfactory to Anna and Mrs. Frank Cowperwood; and these two, when they were together supervising the list of invitations, often talked about it.

“She’s so hoidenish,” observed Anna, to her sister-in-law, when they came to the name of Aileen.  “She thinks she knows so much, and she isn’t a bit refined.  Her father!  Well, if I had her father I wouldn’t talk so smart.”

Mrs. Cowperwood, who was before her secretaire in her new boudoir, lifted her eyebrows.

“You know, Anna, I sometimes wish that Frank’s business did not compel me to have anything to do with them.  Mrs. Butler is such a bore.  She means well enough, but she doesn’t know anything.  And Aileen is too rough.  She’s too forward, I think.  She comes over here and plays upon the piano, particularly when Frank’s here.  I wouldn’t mind so much for myself, but I know it must annoy him.  All her pieces are so noisy.  She never plays anything really delicate and refined.”

“I don’t like the way she dresses,” observed Anna, sympathetically.  “She gets herself up too conspicuously.  Now, the other day I saw her out driving, and oh, dear! you should have seen her!  She had on a crimson Zouave jacket heavily braided with black about the edges, and a turban with a huge crimson feather, and crimson ribbons reaching nearly to her waist.  Imagine that kind of a hat to drive in.  And her hands!  You should have seen the way she held her hands—­oh—­just so—­self-consciously.  They were curved just so”—­and she showed how.  “She had on yellow gauntlets, and she held the reins in one hand and the whip in the other.  She drives just like mad when she drives, anyhow, and William, the footman, was up behind her.  You should just have seen her.  Oh, dear! oh, dear! she does think she is so much!” And Anna giggled, half in reproach, half in amusement.

“I suppose we’ll have to invite her; I don’t see how we can get out of it.  I know just how she’ll do, though.  She’ll walk about and pose and hold her nose up.”

“Really, I don’t see how she can,” commented Anna.  “Now, I like Norah.  She’s much nicer.  She doesn’t think she’s so much.”

“I like Norah, too,” added Mrs. Cowperwood.  “She’s really very sweet, and to me she’s prettier.”

“Oh, indeed, I think so, too.”