was to happen, Selma had expected to be received with open arms into a
society eager to recognize her salient qualities. But apparently, at
first glance, everybody's interest was absorbed by the butcher and
grocer, the dressmaker and the domestic hearth. That is, the other
people in their row seemed to be content to do as they were doing. The
husbands went to town every day--town which lay in the murky
distance--and their wives were friendly enough, but did not seem to be
conscious either of voids in their own existence or of the privilege of
her society. To be sure, they dressed well and were suggestive in that,
but they looked blank at some of her inquiries, and appeared to feel
their days complete if, after the housework had been done and the battle
fought with the hired girl, they were able to visit the shopping
district and pore over fabrics, in case they could not buy them. Some
were evidently looking forward to the day when they might be so
fortunate as to possess one of the larger houses of the district a mile
away, and figure among what they termed "society people." There were
others who, in their satisfaction with this course of life, referred
with a touch of self-righteousness to the dwellers on the River Drive as
deserving reprobation on account of a lack of serious purpose. This
criticism appealed to Selma, and consoled her in a measure for the half
mortification with which she had begun to realize that she was not of so
much account as she had expected; at least, that there were people not
very far distant from her block who were different somehow from her
neighbors, and who took part in social proceedings in which she and her
husband were not invited to participate. Manifestly they were unworthy
and un-American. It was a comfort to come to this conclusion, even
though her immediate surroundings, including the society of those who
had put the taunt into her thoughts, left her unsatisfied.

Some relief was provided at last by her church. Babcock was by birth an