Dangerous Days

The New-year, destined to be so crucial, came in cheerfully enough.

There was, to be sure, a trifle less ostentation in the public

celebrations, but the usual amount of champagne brought in the most

vital year in the history of the nation. The customary number of men,

warmed by that champagne, made reckless love to the women who happened

to be near them and forgot it by morning. And the women themselves

presented pictures of splendor of a peculiar gorgeousness.

The fact that almost coincident with the war there had come into

prominence an entirely new school of color formed one of the curious

contrasts of the period. Into a drab world there flamed strange and

bizarre theatrical effects, in scenery and costume. Some of it was

beautiful, most of it merely fantastic. But it was immediately reflected

in the clothing of fashionable women. Europe, which had originated it,

could use it but little; but great opulent America adopted it and made

it her own.

So, while the rest of the world was gray, America flamed, and Natalie

Spencer, spending her days between dressmakers and decorators, flamed

with the rest.

On New-year's Eve Clayton Spencer always preceded the annual ball of

the City Club, of which he was president, by a dinner to the board

of governors and their wives. It was his dinner. He, and not Natalie,

arranged the seating, ordered the flowers, and planned the menu. He took

considerable pride in it; he liked to think that it was both beautiful

and dignified. His father had been president before him, and he liked to

think that he was carrying on his father's custom with the punctilious

dignity that had so characterized him.

He was dressed early. Natalie had been closeted with Madeleine, her

maid, and a hair-dresser, for hours. As he went down-stairs he could

hear her voice raised in querulous protest about something.

When he went into the library Buckham was there stooping over the fire,

his austere old face serious and intent.

"Well, another year almost gone, Buckham!" he said.

"Yes, Mr. Spencer."

"It would be interesting to know what the New-year holds."

"I hope it will bring you peace and happiness, sir."

"Thank you."

And after Buckham had gone he thought that rather a curious New-year's

wish. Peace and happiness! Well, God knows he wanted both. A vague

comprehension of the understanding the upper servants of a household

acquire as to the inner life of the family stirred in him; how much they

knew and concealed under their impassive service.

When Natalie came down the staircase a few minutes later she was swathed

in her chinchilla evening wrap, and she watched his face, after her

custom when she expected to annoy him, with the furtive look that he had

grown to associate with some unpleasantness.