This was not apparently because he had been much in America; he was returning from his first visit to the States, which had been spent chiefly in the Territories; after a brief interval of Newport he had preferred the West; he liked rather to hunt than to be hunted, though even in the West his main business had been to kill time, which he found more plentiful there than other game. The natives, everywhere, were much the same thing to him; if he distinguished it was in favor of those who did not suppose themselves cultivated. If again he had a choice it was for the females; they seemed to him more amusing than the males, who struck him as having an exaggerated reputation for humor. He did not care much for Clementina's past, as he knew it from Mrs. Milray, and if it did not touch his fancy, it certainly did not offend his taste. A real artistocracy is above social prejudice, when it will; he had known some of his order choose the mothers of their heirs from the music halls, and when it came to a question of distinctions among Americans, he could not feel them. They might be richer or poorer; but they could not be more patrician or more plebeian.
The passengers, he told Clementina, were getting up, at this point of the ship's run, an entertainment for the benefit of the seaman's hospital in Liverpool, that well-known convention of ocean-travel, which is sure at some time or other, to enlist all the talent on board every English steamer in some sort of public appeal. He was not very clear how he came to be on the committee for drumming up talent for the occasion; his distinction seemed to have been conferred by a popular vote in the smoking room, as nearly as he could make out; but here he was, and he was counting upon Miss Claxon to help him out. He said Mrs. Milray had told him about that charming affair they had got up in the mountains, and he was sure they could have something of the kind again. "Perhaps not a coaching party; that mightn't be so easy to manage at sea. But isn't there something else--some tableaux or something? If we couldn't have the months of the year we might have the points of the compass, and you could take your choice."
He tried to get something out of the notion, but nothing came of it that Mrs. Milray thought possible. She said, across her husband, on whose further side she had sunk into a chair, that they must have something very informal; everybody must do what they could, separately. "I know you can do anything you like, Clementina. Can't you play something, or sing?" At Clementina's look of utter denial, she added, desperately, "Or dance something? "A light came into the girl's face at which she caught. "I know you can dance something! Why, of course! Now, what is it?"
Clementina smiled at her vehemence. "Why, it's nothing. And I don't know whether I should like to."
"Oh, yes," urged Lord Lioncourt. "Such a good cause, you know."
"What is it?" Mrs. Milray insisted. "Is it something you could do alone?"
"It's just a dance that I learned at Woodlake. The teacha said that all the young ladies we'e leaning it. It's a skut-dance"--"The very thing!" Mrs. Milray shouted. "It'll be the hit of the evening."
"But I've never done it before any one," Clementina faltered.
"They'll all be doing their turns," the Englishman said. "Speaking, and singing, and playing."
Clementina felt herself giving way, and she pleaded in final reluctance, "But I haven't got a pleated skut in my steama trunk."
"No matter! We can manage that." Mrs. Milray jumped to her feet and took Lord Lioncourt's arm. "Now we must go and drum up somebody else."
He did not seem eager to go, but he started. "Then that's all settled," she shouted over her shoulder to Clementina.
"No, no, Mrs. Milray! "Clementina called after her. "The ship tilts so"--"Nonsense! It's the smoothest run she ever made in December. And I'll engage to have the sea as steady as a rock for you. Remember, now, you've promised."
Mrs. Milray whirled her Englishman away, and left Clementina sitting beside her husband.
"Did you want to dance for them, Clementina?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said, with the vague smile of one to whom a pleasant hope has occurred.
"I thought perhaps you were letting Mrs. Milray bully you into it. She's a frightful tyrant."
"Oh, I guess I should like to do it, if you think it would be--nice."
"I dare say it will be the nicest thing at their ridiculous show."
Milray laughed as if her willingness to do the dance had defeated a sentimental sympathy in him.
"I don't believe it will be that," said Clementina, beaming joyously.
"But I guess I shall try it, if I can find the right kind of a dress."
"Is a pleated skirt absolutely necessary," asked Milray, gravely.
"I don't see how I could get on without it," said Clementina.
She was so serious still when she went down to her state-room that Mrs.
Lander was distracted from her potential ailments to ask: "What is it, Clementina?"
"Oh, nothing. Mrs. Milray has got me to say that I would do something at a concert they ah' going to have on the ship." She explained, "It's that skut dance I learnt at Woodlake of Miss Wilson."
"Well, I guess if you're worryin' about that you needn't to."
"Oh, I'm not worrying about the dance. I was just thinking what I should wear. If I could only get at the trunks!"
"It won't make any matte what you wear," said Mrs. Lander. "It'll be the greatest thing; and if 't wa'n't for this sea-sickness that I have to keep fightin' off he'a, night and day, I should come up and see you myself. You ah' just lovely in that dance, Clementina."
"Do you think so, Mrs. Landa?" asked the girl, gratefully. "Well, Mr. Milray didn't seem to think that I need to have a pleated skut. Any rate, I'm going to look over my things, and see if I can't make something else do."
