y? But then----"

At which she proceeds to state an alibi which sounds reasonable enough.
She'd rather understood that the Garveys didn't expect to be called on.
Maybe you know how it is in one of these near-swell suburbs! Not that
there's any reg'lar committee to pass on newcomers. Some are taken in
right off, some after a while, and some are just left out. Anyway,
that's how it seems to work out here in Harbor Hills.

I don't know who it was first passed around the word, or where we got it
from, but we'd been tipped off somehow that the Garveys didn't belong. I
don't expect either of us asked for details. Whether or not they did
wasn't up to us. But everybody seems to take it that they don't, and act
accordin'. Plenty of others had met the same deal. Some quit after the
first six months, others stuck it out.

As for the Garveys, they'd appeared from nowhere in particular, bought
this big square stucco house on the Shore road, rolled around in their
showy limousine, subscribed liberal to all the local drives and charity
funds, and made several stabs at bein' folksy. But there's no response.
None of the bridge-playing set drop in of an afternoon to ask Mrs.
Garvey if she won't fill in on Tuesday next, she ain't invited to join
the Ladies' Improvement Society, or even the Garden Club; and when
Garvey's application for membership gets to the Country Club committee
he's notified that his name has been put on the waitin' list. I expect
it's still there.

But it's kind of a jolt to find that Mrs. Garvey is sore on us for all
this. "Where does she get that stuff?" I asks Vee, after we get home.
"Who's been telling her we handle the social blacklist for the Roaring
Rock district of Long Island?"

"I suppose she thinks we have done our share, or failed to do it," says
Vee. "And perhaps we have. I'm rather sorry for the Garveys. I'm sure I
don't know what's the matter with them."

I didn't, either. Hadn't given it a thought, in fact. But I sort of got
to chewin' it over. Maybe it was the flashy way Mrs. Garvey dressed, and
the noisy laugh I'd occasionally heard her spring on the station
platform when she was talking to Garvey. Not that all the lady members
of the Country Club set are shrinkin' violets who go around costumed in
Quaker gray and whisper their remarks modest. Some are about as spiffy
dressers as you'll see anywhere and a few are what I'd call speedy
performers. But somehow you know who they are and where they