Oh, Carin, isn’t that fun? And aren’t you glad Haystack Thompson got off? I’d hate to have civilization trap him, wouldn’t you?
Well, well, I started to tell you about my ball. It was a wonderful ball. We danced in the drawing-room under the luster candelabra, and we danced down the long corridor with the carved panels. We women were all shining in beautiful garments, but I haven’t any desire to describe them to you, except that my little grandmother wore a gown of cloth of silver and rose point lace and all of her diamonds; and I, to please her—and it almost drove poor Aunt Lorena wild—chose a queer old silk of hers striped like ribbon grass in white and greeny-white and faded lilac and mauve. Over it I draped the thinnest silken lace. Then grandmother gave me a necklace of darling little pearls, and I had white satin slippers with little butterflies embroidered on them in greeny-white and faded pink, and a fan of the same colors, painted with butterfly wings.
“I never saw a coming-out dress like that in all my life,” said Aunt Lorena.
“Lorena,” said grandmother magnificently, “the Knoxes can afford to do as they please.”
But for my afternoon reception, to please Aunt Lorena, I wore drifting white stuff—white everything—and carried Killarney roses, and was just as conventional as I could be. Aunt Lorena kept pointing to me and saying:
“This is the way I want the child to look,” and at the ball grandmother said to her old friends: “Wouldn’t you think she was one of us all over again? Don’t you like a young girl to dress like that?”
Everybody agreed with Aunt Lorena, and everybody agreed with grandmother. And I was very happy all of the time.
No, I find I’m not going to describe the ball.
Oh, because it was vague, after all—just meeting strange people and dancing with strange people, and trying to think of the right thing to say when people complimented me—as, of course, they thought they had to do—and being looked over and being told I was a perfect Knox, and hearing the music always, always, and feeling the dance get into my toes, and knowing my cheeks were burning and my eyes flaming, and wanting to put my face down in the cool moss on the bench of the mountain where the three tulip trees grow, and drink and drink of my spring till I was cooled in body and spirit.