CHAPTER NINE
OF THE following fortnight I find it difficult to write coherently. I found myself in a steady whirl of receptions, luncheons, dinners, teas, and assemblies of rather a pretentious character, at the greater number of which I was obliged to appear as the guest of honour. It began with the reception of Mrs. Floud, at which I may be said to have made my first formal bow to the smarter element of Red Gap, followed by the dinner of the Mrs. Ballard, with whom I had formed acquaintance on that first memorable evening.
I was during this time like a babe at blind play with a set of chess men, not knowing king from pawn nor one rule of the game. Senator Floud—who was but a member of their provincial assembly, I discovered—sought an early opportunity to felicitate me on my changed estate, though he seemed not a little amused by it.
"Good work!" he said. "You know I was afraid our having an English valet would put me in bad with the voters this fall. They're already saying I wear silk stockings since I've been abroad. My wife did buy me six pair, but I've never worn any. Shows how people talk, though. And even now they'll probably say I'm making up to the British army. But it's better than having a valet in the house. The plain people would never stand my having a valet and I know it."
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