A STEP TOO FAR.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 5832, 24 February 1906, Page 11

A STEP TOO FAR.

“You hare indeed developed, my dear Alice.”

“Alicia,” corrected my hostess with a smile.

“I bog your pardon,” I said humbly; “I had forgotten you were now Mrs Oxly-Hamilton, with a hyphen of course.”

Alicia, stout and florid, leant back and surveyed mo complacently. “Yes,” she said, “I couldn’t stand the plain Oxly any longer—never after that horrid Mrs Morrington called Henry ‘Lontco,’ so I added the Hamilton—when—” she paused. “When you reached' Park-lane.” Sho nodded. “Yes—it's a good enough name, and I had an unde called Hamilton,” sho added with .simple truthfulness. I had • not scon Alice Brown since wo wore schoolgirls together at Brighton ; but I knew she married money, and bad long ceased to live at Bristol!—near tho works. I hoard sho changed her name, too, and was “in society,” to use her own especial vulgarism, and when I met her at_ the Carlton ono night and she hurriedly took ray address and asked mo to come and lunch in Park-lane the next day, I accepted the invitation with some pleasure and much curiosity. Tho pleasure was the remembrance I had that at school sho had been a girl I liad liked, and the curiosity was to see what success and money had done for her. I looked at her now as she leant back in her chair in an elaborate tea gown that was somehow too elaborate, and I glanced at; her hair, which sho assured mo took her hair dresser half an hour to dross, and I looked round at tho Park-lane room, where flowers were too abundant, and where money was written so largo on everything that tho obvious wealth was quite oppressive. And now wo were discussing—“getting on,” as Alice called it—and in a burst of pride or confidence sho was letting me into tho secret of how it was done.

“It’s quite easy,” she repeated genially. ‘‘and you soon get to know your world.” Alicia’s voice struck mo as having become a little shrill and Iter appearance a little suggestive of money. It seems strange how money, which gives a woman so many opportunities of indulging in tho refinements and delicacies of luxury, can so hopelessly vulgarise a hitherto refined and gentle girl.

Alice Brown, poor nncl unknown, had been a' gentlewoman. Alice Oxly-Hamilton was a pushing parvenu of the most blatant type. This thought passed sadly through my mind as I looked at her, but she was not in any apparent need of immediate sympathy.

“You know, first we went to Gloucester square, Bayswater.'* she laughed contentedly—“only, of course, I had

Hyde Pail: pm on my paper—and then , ; -i un-ved to that fiat near the Has-i-pesrent Hotel. and now," with a pk , :n*ed smile at her ornate Park-lane room, ’'and now wc'ro hero at last. "There is still St. James’s Palace,” I suggested mildly. Sho ignored my irony, or it pasxcd her by. • The only difficulty about really getting on in London in knowing people,” <die’’said a little despondently. • You know a good many people, don’t you ?” "Yes. of course; but i mean real tip-top people.” , _ I shuddered involuntarily. Do you mean tho top of Park-lano? She stared at me. ‘'No—not necessarily. There are lots in Park-lane no better than X am. I want to go to I.ousts like”—sho paused—“well, like Illingstowu House, for instance.” "It’s iTot really as imposing inside ns it looks," I said gently, "and tho Ducluss is a ’ lint Alicia was not following my train of thought. "It doson’t matter what it’s like,” she interrupted. ”1 don’t want to nee the liow.so—l want to say I know the Duchess—do yon know her, Marjorie? and have von over been there?” '•Yes,” I said: I know her. She is a cousin of mv mother's.” 'Tloallv, I had no idea.” Alicias manner became distinctly warmer. “Arc von going there soon?” X reluctantly admitted I was going to a function on Tuesday week. ‘•Do von call them functions? I must remember that,” said Alicia tho adaptable. ‘•Won’t you write it down?” I suggested. Sho shook her head. “No, I never forget anything—not that sort of thing—that’s partly why I’vo got on, she added with simplicity. ‘T suppose von couldn’t take rao next Tuesday week?” she continued. I shook my head. *T’m afraid not.” Sho looked rather disappointed. ‘‘Can’t you? What a pity.” Then sho brightened up again. ‘‘Well. I must hoo what I can do for myself. I’vo got a sort of plan, and I moan to go if I possibly can—l must think it over. I don’t often give up anything on which I set mv mind,” and sho smiled the complacent, smile of social attainment. It was Tuesday week, and tho day of tho function iit Illingfdown House. I was standing by the door, and the Duchess of lllingstown was greeting her guests. Hero and there a friend spoke to mo as ho or she passed, and ns I turned to speak to Lord Frederick Stidicorahe, tho Duchess's youngest son, I heard a voice say, “Hero I am, you soo," and turning, I saw. to mv utter amazement. Mrs Oxly-llamilton, Sho had evidently boon there some time, and was a strange mixture of triumph and discomfort. Apparently sho know no one but mo, and sho was obviously also in some kind of trepidation. I greeted her. and then felt myself merely staring at her. “Don't look so astonished.” sho said in a low, cross voice: "it's nothing very extraordinary, and I hoar its very frequently done.” ■What is very frequently done?’ I asked faintly. Sho laughed half shamefacedly. “Well—l’ll ‘tell you how I got hero, Marjorie. lon see, X didn’t know anyone, and so I’ she had the grace to blush a little — I just came.” , . “You mean you came without being asked ?”

Sho nodded. “Yes, it’s often done, I hear., and it’s only an afternoon thing, and f saw it going on, and I knew you would be hero, and you see ” “But what do you gain by coming?” I asked.

“Oh! well, I shall ask some of tho papers to put mo in thoir list of guests—you can get anything in by paying, "you know—and then, 'of course, I can say I've been.”

“Hush!” I whispered, as Lord Freddy passed and went towards tho door. “What about tho Duchess, Alicia, supposing sho realises you’re not her guest ?” “Oh! that’ll be all right.” said Alicia airily. "You sec, she’ll think Pm a friend of her son or daughter-in-law, or that someone has brought me, and then you see ” At this moment tho old Duchess of Illingstown, who had been talking to her son, came up with her stately step close up to UR, and passing me stopped in front of Mrs Oxly-Hamil-ton. “Do yon know,” sho said with a gentle and diginified iciness that even now sends n reminiscent shiver down my spine; “do you - know, I think you have made a little mistake? I—l am afraid I do not quite remember you.”

Mrs Oxly-Hamilton completely taken off ber guard as sho was, rose to the occasion, as only a woman who possoscs an absolute genius for “getting on” could have risen. .“Really,” sho said, and only I who knew her could have recognised the minor key to which her voice had dropped,*“but this is Barford House, is it not? I was looking Mrs Morgenstein. my hostess, you know.” Tho Duchess raised her head unconsciously. “I fear I ’nave never heard of Barford House, and I am also afraid I am unacquainted with Mrs Morgenstein.

Mrs Oxly-Hamilton began explaining volubly"—sho was duo at a party at Barford House that afternoon, tho Morgenstoin’s lovely house, and she must have somehow made a mistake. “So stupid,” she apologised with an attempt at friendliness. “I can't think how I made such a silly mistake, and I promised to ho there at five.” Tho Duchess bowed with frigid courtesy'. “Then I will not keep you any longer,” sho said gently, “or you will be too late for your party.”

Mrs Oxly-Hamilton rustled uncomfortably out of tho door, and the Duchess of Illingstown turned to me. “How on earth did that extraordinary person got in here?” sho said. “What is sho? Do you know Marjorie? Didn’t I see you speak to her?” “I was at school with her,” I replied, and I thereupon ’ explained Alicia's ambition to tho amazed Duchess. “Bcally,” sho said, "what a very remarkable person site must bo.” Then she lowered her lorgnette and smiled at me. “But you quite believe me, my dear; I thought sho was perhaps a clover thief.”

“Oh. no,” I laughed, “she’s net a thief.”

Tho Duchess sighed. “Xo, she's merely vulgar, horribly vulgar; but vet”—she paused and smiled at me—“l think she has stolen a march on you and mo in getting hero this afternoon.”—Bv Mrs Xcish, in tho “Dailv Mail."

Said Hint beauty actor Douglas <Jorrare!, of Mr .T. C. Williamson’s Dramatic Company, has fallen captive to the classical beautv of one of Melbourne’s fairest, finest, ail'd most bored-looking matrons, and that he admires her even more than lie does himself.—’’Bulletin.'”