The Gold of Chickaree — Part 205

'Does my bird of paradise want room to spread her wings?' said he, looking in her face.

'And shew herself? No, I have done enough of that.'

'If we keep the key-note of life's music clear and true, we shall find the chords, Wych. How are you in confusion?'

' "If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light," ' she answered thoughtfully. 'But do you know, light is very confusing sometimes?'

'Yes, it is. When I did not care what I did, I knew exactly what to do.'

'Everything. Ought I to refuse all invitations, and wear grey serge? But the reverse of wrong is not right.'

Rollo laughed, while yet he looked serious. 'The question is, Wych, what we will do with our life? There is not time enough, nor strength, nor even in our case money enough, to meet the demands of the gay world and of the other part of the world too. Do what we will with our millions, there will be poor and suffering and ignorant people that we cannot reach; and how can we take hundreds and thousands for dresses and entertainments, when the work of our Master wants it all? I propose that we be neither hermits nor wear serge; but go wherever we can get good—or give it; and dress for the utmost efficiency in both departments. What do you think of that for a general principle?'

' "Good" '—Hazel repeated. 'I suppose pleasure might sometimes come under that head.'

'Let us see how much of that article we are refusing just now,' said Dane drily, taking a still more easy position and turning over the notes in his hand. 'No. 1, Mrs. Schornstein's reception. I can see that from here. Crowds, gaslights, twelve inches standing room for one's body, one's mind in the condition of Noah's dove when the waters were upon the earth!—Mrs. Lefevre—"German." As I do not dance, and as you do not, what should we do, duchess?—Mrs. Post; that will be a repetition of Mrs. Lefevre's, only the rooms will be dressed with flowers; but we can see flowers any day in a greenhouse and by daylight, and without the necessity of waltzing up to them.—Bampton Foulard. Ah, that is a variety! Science and Literature trying to play puss in the corner, while Fashion sweeps over the floor and catches their feet in her train. I know Mrs. Bampton's receptions; they are such a thorough "Durcheinander" that if you by chance see anything there you want, you can't get it; nor get at it.—Southgate; the point there is supper; but it is a point you cannot reach without ardent exertion. I never liked that sort of exertion.—Barsch; music. And the music will be fearful. I would rather drive round Central Park till it is over.—Wallings; cards and supper and dancing.—What do you say, Hazel? It is all one story. The pleasure is to seek.'