She was therefore not particularly anxious to
spend an evening--which began at an aggravatingly late hour instead
of at a reasonable time, thanks to a social custom which has its
foundation in nothing short of absolute insanity--in the pursuit of
nothing of greater value than dancing, stair talks, and conservatory
confidences; but Mrs. Willard soon persuaded her that she ought to
go, and go she did.
It was a beautiful night, that of the 22d of July. Newport was at
her best. The morning had been oppressively warm, but along about
three in the afternoon a series of short and sharp electrical storms
came, and as quickly went, cooling the heated city, and freshening up
the air until it was as clear as crystal, and refreshing as a draught
of cold spring-water.
At the Howlett mansion on Bellevue Avenue all was in readiness for
the event. The caterer's wagons had arrived with their dainty
contents, and had gone, and now the Hungarian band was sending forth
over the cool night air those beautiful and weird waves of melody
which entrance the most unwilling ear.
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