During those weeks she investigated Skeaton very thoroughly.She found that her Skeaton, the Skeaton of Fashion and the Church, was a very small affair consisting of two rows of villas, some detached houses that trickled into the country, and a little clump of villas on a hill over the sea beyond the town.There were not more than fifty souls all told in this regiment of Fashion, and the leaders of the fifty were Mrs.Constantine, Mrs.Maxse, Miss Purves, a Mrs.
Tempest (a large black tragic creature), and Miss Grace Trenchard-and they had for their male supporters Colonel Maxse, Mr.William Tempest, a Mr.Purdie (rich and idle), and the Reverend Paul.Maggie discovered that the manners, habits, and even voices and gestures of this sacred Fifty were all the same.The only question upon which they divided was one of residence.The richer and finer division spent several weeks of the winter abroad in places like Nice and Cannes, and the poorer contingent took their holiday from Skeaton in the summer in Glebeshire or the Lake District.The Constantines and the Maxses were very fine indeed because they went both to Cannes in the winter and Scotland in the summer.It was wonderful, considering how often Mrs.Constantine was away from Skeaton, how solemn and awe-inspiring an impression she made and retained in the Skeaton world.Maggie discovered that unless you had a large house with independent grounds outside the town it was impossible to remain in Skeaton during the summer months.Oh! the trippers!...Oh! the trippers! Yes, they were terrible-swallowed up the sands, eggshells, niggers, pierrots, bathing-machines, vulgarity, moonlight embracing, noise, sand, and dust.If you were any one at all you did not stay in Skeaton during the summer months-unless, as I have said, you were so grand that you could disregard it altogether.