Mrs. Prince; her wedding was only a long-ago memory now.
Georgiana, who came next, was a calm, plain woman of thirty-seven,
interested in church work and organized charities. Alice was
musical and delicate. Elinor was worldly, decisive, the social
favorite among the sisters. Jeanette was boyish and brisk, a
splendid sportswoman, and Phyllis, at twenty-six, was still
babyish and appealing, tiny in build, and full of feminine charms.

All five were good dancers, good tennis and golf players, good
horsewomen, and good managers. All five dressed well, talked well,
and played excellent bridge. The fact of their not marrying was an
eternal mystery to their friends, to their wiry, nervous little
father, and their large, fat, serene mother; perhaps to themselves
as well. They met life, as they saw it, with great cleverness,
making it a rule to do little entertaining at home, where the
preponderance of women was most notable, and refusing to accept
invitations except singly. The Vanderwall girls were rarely seen
together; each had her pose and kept to it, each helped the others
to maintain theirs in turn. Alice's music, Georgiana's altruistic
duties, these were matters of sacred family tradition, and if
outsiders sometimes speculated as to the sisters' sincerity, at
least no Vanderwall ever betrayed another. And despite their
obvious handicaps, the five girls were regarded as social
authorities, and their names were prominently displayed in
newspaper accounts of all smart affairs. While making a fine art
of feminine friendships, they yet diffused a general impression of
being involved in endless affairs of the heart. They were much in
demand to fill in bridge tables, to serve on club directorates, to
amuse week-end parties, to be present at house weddings, and to
remain with the family for the first blank day or two after the