A gay world, that summer morning! The sprinkler on the lawn flung arainbow mist into the air, and left tiny diamonds shining on the grassblades. Everything was astir—the leaves rustling on the trees, gayflowers swaying on their stalks. Curtains fluttered at the open windows,and through the cool, bright house voices came floating, light asbutterflies. Serena Page had arisen.
To be sure, she had told her house guests the night before that justbecause she had to get up was no reason why any one else should bedisturbed at the outrageous hour of half past eight; but somehow everybodywas disturbed. Somehow her getting up made confusion all through thehouse; for that was Serena’s especial talent—to create an exciting sortof bustle about her, without herself doing anything at all. Serena! Neverwas a woman so misnamed!
She came down the stairs, her filmy black negligee floating out behindher, so that she seemed, as always, to be coming in a breeze—anartificial breeze, though, perfumed and enervating, bringing no health orcolor. She was without make-up at this early hour. Her handsome, haggardface was pale, her eyes were heavy.
She entered the breakfast room, and there was the Moriarty girl, standingby the window.
“Good morning, Mrs. Page,” she said, with that enigmatic smile of hers.
Serena smiled, too, but faintly. Geraldine Moriarty was beginning to geton her nerves very badly, and she was longing for an excuse to fly into arage with the girl. That was the only way Serena could get rid of people.She could do nothing in cold blood. She had taken on Geraldine in anoutburst of generosity, and she would have to have an outburst of angerbefore she could send her away.
“Had breakfast?” she inquired.
“No—I was waiting for you, Mrs. Page.”
Serena took her place at the table, and the Japanese butler came forwardto serve her. She did not know his name. She was not even sure that shehad seen him before. She got her servants from an agency in the city,which upon demand would send her out a “crew” commanded by a butler.Sometimes things went wrong, and the whole lot left together; but anothercrew always came promptly, and her household suffered very little from thechange. She had the art of making her home as impersonal as a hotel; butshe did notice this butler. She smiled upon him, because his charminglydeferential air pleased her. He seemed to appreciate the solemnity of theoccasion.
It was indeed an important occasion. It was the beginning of Serena’sdiet. Before this elegant and luxurious creature the butler set half of agrapefruit, two slices of Graham bread toast without butter, and a cup ofblack coffee.
She shuddered a little, and closed her eyes. Every morning, henceforth,she was to get up at half past eight, go through a set of exercises, takea cold shower, and come downstairs—to this! Every one said she wouldn’tbe able to stand it. Those who pleased her best said she had absolutely noneed of a reducing diet, and would be made ill by it.
Only the Moriarty girl showed no interest at all. Serena observed thatGeraldine had a slice of grilled Virginia ham on her plate.
“How Connie could ever have called her a sweet child!” she thought. “She’sas hard as nails!”
Some six weeks ago Connie Blanchard had come to Serena with a most piteoustale about Geraldine Moriarty.
“Her mother an