The Grey house was the centre of many gatherings where hospitality was dispensed with a liberal hand, and all who chose to come were welcome. But there were few parties or receptions, and when it was rumored that Mrs. White was intending to give one, the town awoke to great activity of speculation as to who would be invited and who slighted. Somehow the news got abroad that only those who called upon the guests were to be honored, and at once the tide set in toward the White house, where there were more calls made and more cards left than had been left and made in a year. Mrs. White was very reserved in manner and had no intimate friends. She had her days when she was at home to those who chose to call. Sometimes three or four came, and sometimes none, and she was equally pleased either way, as she preferred the quiet of her own room to society, if she were expected to exert herself. On the two occasions when as president she had felt obliged to entertain the Guild, and Herbert, who was socially inclined, had invited everybody, she had been greatly bored and scandalized by the crowd which came, glad of a chance to see the inside of the grand house and say they had been there. She did not suppose there were so many common people in the Episcopal Church, she said. She thought they belonged somewhere else, and after she resigned her office as president of the Guild she withdrew from it and thus freed herself from the obligation to entertain it again. And still she liked the bustle and excitement of watering places and fashionable life—if she could be in it and not of it—could see it go on, and not feel obliged to talk to anyone unless she chose to do so. People called her proud, and Herbert called her indolent, and she was both. Now, however, with the advent of the Lansings she roused up and opened all her treasures. They dined in the state dining-room. The best silver and glass and linen were brought out. The carriage and horses stood at the door at all hours. She went to Worcester and interviewed the best caterer and the best florist there, and then with Herbert sat down to address the invitations for the party which was to astonish the people in Merivale, and so far eclipse a little party which Mrs. Grey had given the previous winter that people who attended it would never know they had been there. To this gathering Mrs. White had not been bidden, as Mrs. Grey had confined her invitations to those to whom she was indebted, or who had been polite to her. Mrs. White would have scorned to acknowledge that she cared for being left out. “Why should I be invited?” she had said to Herbert, who was expressing his surprise and saying he knew there was a mistake, “Why should I be, when I scarcely know Mrs. Grey?”