Reuben Harris once served
on the governor's staff for seven weeks, ranking as colonel, so now all
his friends, even his family, spoke of him as "the Colonel." It was well,
as it pleased his vanity.
The coachmen's whips left their sockets, and coupe and carriage dashed
along 42nd Street and down Fifth Avenue. The ten minutes' drive passed as
a dream to some in the carriage. Mrs. Harris's mind revelled in the
intricate warfare of society. She had often been in New York, and in
the summers was seen at the most fashionable watering places with her
children. Her mind was burdened trying to discover the steps that lead to
the metropolitan and international "four hundred." She was determined
that her children should marry into well regulated families, and that the
colonel should have a national reputation. So absorbed was she that her
eyes saw not, neither did her ears hear what transpired in the carriage.
Gertrude was equally quiet; her thoughts were of dear friends she had
left in Harrisville. The occupants of the front seats had talked in low
tones of recent society events in New York, and a little of art. Lucille
herself had dabbled in color for a term or two in a fashionable school on
the Back Bay in Boston.
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