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There flashed across her mind the beautiful reception-room, library, parlor, and boudoirs of the
Cowperwoods, which were now being arranged and about which Anna Cowperwood talked to
her so much-- their dainty, lovely triangular grand piano in gold and painted pink and blue. Why
couldn't they have things like that? Her father was unquestionably a dozen times as wealthy.
But no, her father, whom she loved dearly, was of the old school. He was just what people
charged him with being, a rough Irish contractor. He might be rich. She flared up at the injustice
of things--why couldn't he have been rich and refined, too? Then they could have--but, oh, what
was the use of complaining? They would never get anywhere with her father and mother in
charge. She would just have to wait. Marriage was the answer--the right marriage. But whom
was she to marry?
"You surely are not going to go on fighting about that now," pleaded Mrs. Butler, as strong and
patient as fate itself. She knew where Aileen's trouble lay.
"But we might have a decent house," insisted Aileen. "Or this one done over," whispered Norah
to her mother.
"Hush now! In good time," replied Mrs. Butler to Norah. "Wait. We'll fix it all up some day, sure.
You run to your lessons now. You've had enough."
Norah arose and left. Aileen subsided. Her father was simply stubborn and impossible. And yet
he was sweet, too. She pouted in order to compel him to apologize.
"Come now," he said, after they had left the table, and conscious of the fact that his daughter
was dissatisfied with him. He must do something to placate her. "Play me somethin' on the
piano, somethin' nice." He preferred showy, clattery things which exhibited her skill and
muscular ability and left him wondering how she did it. That was what education was for--to
enable her to play these very difficult things quickly and forcefully. "And you can have a new
piano any time you like. Go and see about it. This looks pretty good to me, but if you don't want
it, all right." Aileen squeezed his arm. What was the use of arguing with her father? What good
would a lone piano do, when the whole house and the whole family atmosphere were at fault?
But she played Schumann, Schubert, Offenbach, Chopin, and the old gentleman strolled to and
fro and mused, smiling. There was real feeling and a thoughtful interpretation given to some of
these things, for Aileen was not without sentiment, though she was so strong, vigorous, and
withal so defiant; but it was all lost on him. He looked on her, his bright, healthy, enticingly
beautiful daughter, and wondered what was going to become of her. Some rich man was going
to many her--some fine, rich young man with good business instincts--and he, her father, would
leave her a lot of money.
There was a reception and a dance to be given to celebrate the opening of the two
Cowperwood homes--the reception to be held in Frank Cowperwood's residence, and the dance
later at his father's. The Henry Cowperwood domicile was much more pretentious, the reception-
room, parlor, music-room, and conservatory being in this case all on the ground floor and much
larger. Ellsworth had arranged it so that those rooms, on occasion, could be thrown into one,
leaving excellent space for promenade, auditorium, dancing-- anything, in fact, that a large
company might require. It had been the intention all along of the two men to use these houses
jointly. There was, to begin with, a combination use of the various servants, the butler,
gardener, laundress, and maids. Frank Cowperwood employed a governess for his children.
The butler was really not a butler in the best sense. He was Henry Cowperwood's private
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