Mrs. Chapman had resided three months in Bowling Green, and yet
first-class society had kept its doors closed--did not even condescend a
smile. This was very mortifying to a lady whose pretentions were quite
equal to her dimensions. A few second and third-rate people had made a
formal call, or left a card. But it was merely as a matter of ceremony.
Mr. Pinks, the elegant old beau of the Green, who was looked up to by
first-rate society everywhere, and considered himself born to stand
guard over it and protect it from vulgar contact, and who was accepted
as authority in all matters of etiquette, and had standing invitations
to dinner with all the best families, had called to pay his respects and
congratulate the lady. But Pinks considered this strictly a matter of
duty--to make an observation.
When Beau Pinks reported the result of his call to the Warburton family,
who were first-rate people, and the Warburton family spread it through
West Bowling Green, there was great amusement in the neighborhood.
"Won't do, the lady won't," said Pinks, lowering his voice to a whisper,
and shaking his head.
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