instructed by my drawing-teacher to sketch with
my stick of charcoal a vase, a book, and a red rose, which he arranged
in a group on a table before me. I had a great deal of difficulty with
the rose; so after struggling for about half an hour I got up and,
unobserved, put the rose behind the vase, so that only its stem was
visible to me. Then I took a fresh page and began again. The result was
a very fair portrayal of the articles as they then appeared. So with my
ideal of marriage--when I found its arrangement impossible to portray in
my life--I simply slipped out of sight that for which the red rose is
sometimes the symbol (I mean love) and went ahead sketching in the other
things.

I explained all this to Breck one day. I wanted to be honest with him.

"Say, what are you driving at? Red roses! Drawing lessons! What's that
got to do with whether you'll run down to Boston for dinner with me
tonight? You do talk the greatest lot of stuff! But have it your own
way. I'm satisfied. Just jump in beside me! Will you? Darn it! I haven't
the patience of a saint!"

CHAPTER VIII

THE HORSE SHOW

Conventions may sometimes appear silly and absurd, but most of them are
made for practical purposes. Ignore them and you'll discover yourself in
difficulty. Leave your spoon in your cup and your arm will unexpectedly
hit it sometime, and over will go everything on to the tablecloth. If I
had not ignored certain conventions I wouldn't be crying over spilled
milk now.

I allowed myself to become engaged to Breck; accepted his ring and hid
it in my lowest bureau drawer; told my family my intentions; let the
world see me dining, dancing, theater-ing and motoring like mad with
Breck and draw its conclusions; and all this, mind you, before I had
received a word of any sort whatsoever from my prospective
family-in-law. This, as everybody knows, is irregular, and as bad form
as leaving your spoon in your cup. No wonder I got into difficulty!

My prospective family-in-law consisted simply of Breck's mother, Mrs. F.
Rockridge Sewall--a very elegant and perfectly poised woman she seemed
to me the one time I had seen her at close range, as she sat at the
head of the sumptuous table in the tapestry-hung dining-room at
Grassmere. I admired Mrs. Sewall. I used to think that I could succeed
in living up to her grand manners with better success than the other
rather hoidenish young ladies who chanced to be the guests at Grassmere
the tim