This is always an awkward business in town or country. An exclusive
alliance between two powers is often the same thing as a declaration of
war against a third. Rockland was soon split into a triumphant
minority, invited to Mrs. Sprowle's party, and a great majority,
uninvited, of which the fraction just on the border line between
recognized "gentility" and the level of the ungloved masses was in an
active state of excitement and indignation.
"Who is she, I should like to know?" said Mrs. Saymore, the tailor's
wife. "There was plenty of folks in Rockland as good as ever Sally
Jordan was, if she _had_ managed to pick up a merchant. Other folks
could have married merchants, if their families wasn't as wealthy as
them old skinflints that willed her their money," etc., etc. Mrs.
Saymore expressed the feeling of many beside herself. She had, however,
a special right to be proud of the name she bore. Her husband was own
cousin to the Saymores of Freestone Avenue (who write the name
_Seymour_, and claim to be of the Duke of Somerset's family, showing a
clear descent from the Protector to Edward Seymour, (1630,)--then a
jump that would break a herald's neck to one Seth Saymore,
(1783,)--from whom to the head of the present family the line is clear
again).
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