“Aunt Mandy,” the black cook, had once been heard to declare that Castleman Hall was not a home, but “a free hotel.” A hotel with great airy rooms, huge four-poster beds, and quaint old “dressers” and “armours” of hand-carved mahogany! No wonder the guests came trooping! “We ought to move into one of the smaller houses on the plantation!” declared Aunt Varina; and what a horror to have such an idea mentioned in the family. Fear assailed “Miss Margaret”—what if the neighbors were to hear of it? Everybody knew that there had been droughts and floods, and somebody might suspect that these had touched the Castlemans! Mrs. Castleman decided forthwith that it would be necessary to give a big reception; and the moment this was announced came a cry from Celeste—why, if her mother could give a reception, could she not have the little “electric” for which she had begged all summer? Celeste was going back to Miss Abercrombie’s in a week or two. Going back to Fifth Avenue and its shops—to open accounts at any of them she chose, and sign her father’s name to checks, just as Sylvia had done. It would have been a painful matter to curtail this privilege, for Sylvia was the favorite daughter, and Celeste knew it, and was bitterly resentful of every sign of favoritism. And yet the privilege was more dangerous in the case of Celeste, who was careless to the point of wickedness. You might see her step out of an expensive ball-gown at night, and leave it a crumpled ring upon the floor until the maid hung it up in the morning; you might see her kick off her tight, high-heeled slippers, and walk about the room for hours in her stockinged feet—thus wearing out a pair of new silk hose that had cost five dollars, and kicking them to one side to be carried off by the negroes. Celeste would permit nothing but silk upon her exquisite person, and was given to lounging about in oriental luxuriance, while Peggy and Maria gazed at her awe-stricken, as at some princess in a fairy-story book. Sylvia saw with bewilderment that everywhere about her it was the evil example which seemed to be prevailing. § 18 Sylvia could not plan to stay at home and share in this plundering of her father. She must marry; yet when it came to the question of marrying, the one positive fact in her consciousness was that she could never love any man. No matter how long she might wait, no matter how much energy she might expend in hesitating and agonizing, sooner or later she would give herself in marriage to some man whom she did not love. And after all, there was very little choice among them, so far as she could see. Some were more entertaining than others; but it was true of everyone that if he touched her hand in token of desire, she shrunk from him with repugnance.