Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-10-02
CHAPTER w.
The Goddess from the Machine

I'VE CHAMBORD (WhO dldn understand
Mrs. Kempton) had once said that her
household was more of a manege than me-
mage. The house was filled from top to bot
tom with trophies won by the Kempton
stables Cups large and small cleaned from
shelf and mantel, and in the cupboards were
enough blue, red, and yellow rosettes to
decorate the years winners at the Garden
There were collections of bits, spurs, and
impedimenta of harness from every part of
the world. The sporting prints on the walls
of the library and dining room were in better
taste than the paintings in the drawing room
and hallway which Kempton bfre had bought
during the early days of the Hudson River
School. The dogs were everywhere, under
furniture and on it, two spanlels, French
bull, and Russian greyhound. To the little
Marquis, who did not care for dogs, the af
ternoon call at teatime had many of the
characteristics of the hippodrome. To love
Mrs. Kempton, he discovered one must love
and be loved by Mrs. Kempton's dogs.
The furniture, like the stanch brownstone
mansion in which it was housed, was built
for service, and, if one didn't mind dog hairs
on ones trousers, it was easier to be COM
Portable there than in any house in New
York. Smoking was permitted everywhere,
and one had only to turn at ones elbow to
discover the materials for its enjoyment.
Tommy Mccall called it 1.-The House of the
Gilded Ash Tray" Jack Kempton liked
houseful, and there were few weeks in the
season that did not find his spare rooms oc-
cupied. 1t pleased him to have the house
called Liberty Hall. 1t was not unusual for
him to wander into the midst of formal
dinner party at his own board soiled and
travel stained, arrayed in dust coat and Cog
giles. Abby Kempton didn't mind. Like
| other New York women, she preferred to 60
her own way, and realized that incuriosity
| was a small price to pay for her own i'm
munity.
A superficial critic would not have called
| them unhappy or even uncongenial, in the
modern sense. Kempton admired his wife
| extravagantly. They were good pals, he
boosted. Her judgment in horsefesh was in
| fallible. She rode straight to the hounds,
beat him shamelessly at tennis, and drove
his roadster as we'll as he could himself A
trifle dull, the quckness of her wit put him
at loss which she was not slow to use to
her own advantage. But, as Mrs. Kempton
| had told Miss Jusdon, she was really Jaw
| fly fond of him." What he most wondered
at, perhaps, was her success in getting what
ever she wanted She had way of achiev-
| ing the impossible.
| A ND it was Miss Natalie Judson who, at
the END OF trying morning with her
friend at last tossed her hands almost with
an air of fatalism as she said, "Oh, we'll,
Abby, of course you'll have your own way.
l consent. I've only let you talk so that
could weigh your arguments with my own.
Mr.. Northrop half convinced me. I've been
very rude to Mr.. Garriott. I was wrong.
I'm sorry now
Mrs. Kempton was wise enough to con-
ceal her triumph until she got home, when
she sat at her desk and wrote brief note to
Brooke Garriott:
1 have had serious morning with Natalie.
and am exhausted with the effort but she's
coming tonight. do not fail. We dine at
| eight; but come at seven. want to talk to you.
The note lay on CARROTS dressing table
before him as he struggled with his white
cravat. But as he went up the avenue in a
hanson he found himself in some doubt as
to the wisdom of his decision. After all,
Mrs. Kempton was scarcely more than a
stranger, and he had a definite impression
that he was delivering himself into the hands
of an enemy.
THE cordiality of her reception put him
again at his ease. He found her enthroned
on saffron colored divan from which, after
noisy interlude, the dogs were banished.
Garriott noted that tho tjntc Of her dra vino