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Mabel Osgood Wright. People of the Whirlpool
People of the Whirlpool
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I ON THE ADVANTAGE OF TWINS. CHAPTER II MISS LAVINIA'S LETTERS TO BARBARA. CHAPTER III MARTIN CORTRIGHT'S LETTERS. CHAPTER IV WHEN BARBARA GOES TO TOWN. CHAPTER V FEBRUARY VIOLETS. CHAPTER VI ENTER A MAN. CHAPTER VII SYLVIA LATHAM. CHAPTER VIII THE SWEATING OF THE CORN. CHAPTER IX A WAYSIDE COMEDY. CHAPTER X THE WHIRL BEGINS. CHAPTER XI REARRANGED FAMILIES. CHAPTER XII HIS MOTHER. CHAPTER XIII GOSSIP AND THE BUG HUNTERS. CHAPTER XIV THE OASIS. I
ON THE ADVANTAGE OF TWINS
II
MISS LAVINIA'S LETTERS TO BARBARA
"MY DEAR CHILD:—
"LAVINIA DORMAN
III
MARTIN CORTRIGHT'S LETTERS TO BARBARA AND DOCTOR RICHARD RUSSELL
"MY DEAR BARBARA:—
"M. C."
"M. C." IV
WHEN BARBARA GOES TO TOWN
V
FEBRUARY VIOLETS
VI
ENTER A MAN
VII
SYLVIA LATHAM
VIII
THE SWEATING OF THE CORN
IX
A WAYSIDE COMEDY
X
THE WHIRL BEGINS
XI
REARRANGED FAMILIES
XII
HIS MOTHER
XIII
GOSSIP AND THE BUG HUNTERS
"AN EVENT OF INTEREST TO NEW YORK SOCIETY "(SPECIAL CABLE TO NEW YORK HERALD.)
XIV
THE OASIS
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Mabel Osgood Wright
From The Experience Book of a Commuter's Wife
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"Not a word was spoken, so I made my way down to where the library living-room had been, not a little curious to see what would come next. Thick portières covered the doorway, and by them stood the butler, who asked my name. Really, for a moment I could not remember it, I was so startled at this sudden ceremony in the house of a friend, of such long standing that I had jumped rope on the sidewalk with her, making occasional trips arm-in-arm around the corner to Taffy John's little shop for molasses peppermints and 'blubber rubbers.'
"My hesitation seemed to add to the distrust that my appearance had in some way created. The butler also swept me from head to foot with his critical stare, and at the same moment I became internally aware that I had forgotten to remove my arctic over-boots. Never mind, my gown was long, I would curl up my toes, but return to the dressing-room in full sight of that man, I whose forbears had outbowled Peter Stuyvesant, and, I fear, outdrunk him—never! Then the portières flew apart, and facing a glare of bilious-hued electric light, I heard the shouted announcement of 'Miss Doormat' as I stumbled over a tiger rug into the room. I believe the fellow did it on purpose. However, it was very funny, and my rubber-soled arctics probably prevented my either coasting straight across into the open fireplace, or having a nasty fall, while the laugh that the announcement created on the part of my host, Archie Martin, saved me from an awkward moment, for from a sort of gilt throne-like arrangement at one side of the hearth, arrayed in brocaded satin gowns cut very low and very long, heads crimped to a crisp, and fastened to meagre shoulders by jewelled collars, the whole topped by a group of three 'Prince of Wales' feathers, Cordelia and her sister came forward two steps to greet me.
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