Every now and then one of my friends asks me: – Do I like the blonde or the brunette? The other: What do you prefer: short or tall? Third: Do you like easygoing women, or are you more serious in pleasant company? I feel like a certain young lady once upon a time, whose worried parents – as the years increase and the income decreases instead of increasing – asked her which of the many available beauty products she likes? He says that’s where the trouble is; it is also the most difficult for him. It’s hard to figure out which one you like best. They are all so nice. How could you choose just one? Does it then exclude the rest from the competition? Even more, she wanted to be married to all of them.
I feel that you resemble this young lady; perhaps less in beauty and charm than in indecision when the above questions are addressed to me. It’s like asking someone for their favorite food. There is a time when a cup of tea with eggs is the dearest thing to a person. At other times, it can only be a matter of a slice of wine. If I could only eat fish; tomorrow-46-I don’t think I’ll ever eat fish again in my life; I will live on bread, milk and rice pudding. If they suddenly ask why I’m eating ice cream instead of soup; since I like caviar with steaks, I couldn’t answer.
I like tall and short women; I like brunettes and blondes; joys and sorrows.
Don’t be angry about it, ladies; you are the reason. All right-thinking people are “general” suitors; how could it be otherwise? You are so different, yet so charming in your own way. And the man’s heart is so big. You can’t imagine, my charming reader, how big a man’s heart is: that’s his problem – sometimes your problem too.
Can I not admire the magnificent tulip because I also love the humble lily? May I not kiss the sweet violet, because the scent of the royal rose is dear to me?
“Of course not,” the rose would answer. “If you also see some outstanding qualities in him, then you have nothing to do with me anymore.”
“If you’re dealing with the shameless creature before,” says the Lily trembling, “then you’re not the man I thought you were.” God bless you.
“Just come to your baby-faced Violet,” cries the tulip, shaking her proud head. “You just fit together.”
When I go back to the lily, he declares that he cannot trust me. She saw him with the others. He considers it useless. Her beautiful face is full of pain.
So I live without love, just because I love tulsi.
I’m just amazed that young men marry at all. Horrible mode can be difficult to choose. I was walking in Hyde Park last night. A military band played soulful tunes; the crowd was in splendid spirits; rarely is the English sky so clear. I wandered among them and my attention was tied to the women. Most of them, I think, are shop girls, seamstresses, and the lower elements of the middle class. They put on their best clothes, their prettiest hats; I put my hands on them. They sat in twos and threes and rolled; they chirped as happily as young sparrows on a clothesline. What a bright picture! I have seen-47-I saw German revelers, as well as French and Italians, but nowhere in the world do you see as many pretty women as in the English middle class. Three out of four were worth a glance; every second woman is pretty and every fourth – without exaggeration – beautiful. As I walked to and fro, I had the idea that I was an unrepentant bachelor. He went without prejudice. I am looking for a woman; I imagine – it’s just a fairy tale – that all these girls are willing to marry me. I just have to choose! I was totally confused. There were beautiful blonde girls, whom it was a sin to look at, dark ones, whose blood ignited at the sight of them; their golden red hair, whose eyes are sea green, and who could be followed to the end of the world; baby-faced girls, whom it would be so nice to love and nickname; beauties with noble features whom men can adore; they are funny with whom you can cheerfully dance through life; they are serious, with whom it would be sweet and nice to be together; homely girls – one can almost feel what a magnificent home they could create; they cook, sew and turn the house into an expensive, peaceful place. There were also evil girls, whose eyes, when you look into them, all pious feelings leave you; whose laughter would drown the world in a crazy carnival. Girls you could build a statue of; people to learn from; and the sad girls whom one wants to comfort; cheerful girls who would cheer you up; little girls, big girls; they are queenly in shape and fairy-like. There were also evil girls, whose eyes, when you look into them, all pious feelings leave you; whose laughter would drown the world in a crazy carnival. Girls you could build a statue of; people to learn from; and the sad girls whom one wants to comfort; cheerful girls who would cheer you up; little girls, big girls; they are queenly in shape and fairy-like. There were also evil girls, whose eyes, when you look into them, all pious feelings leave you; whose laughter would drown the world in a crazy carnival. Girls you could build a statue of; people to learn from; and the sad girls whom one wants to comfort; cheerful girls who would cheer you up; little girls, big girls; they are queenly in shape and fairy-like.
If a man had to choose a wife? Out of twenty or thirty thousand? Or the girl would suddenly be surrounded by eighteen thousand young men, bachelors, about whom they would say: choose the one you want quickly, but be careful because you have to hurry. Neither the girl nor the boy would ever marry. Fate is much kinder to us. He understands us, he helps us. In the lobby of a hotel in Paris, I heard that one lady recommended her fashion store to another.
– Go to Maison Nouvelle; – recommended the interviewee enthusiastically; – they have the largest selection in all of Paris.
“I know,” answered the first lady. “That’s why I’m not going there.” It totally confuses me. If I see six hats, five-48-I’ll tell you which one you need in a minute. I will come without a hat in front of six hundred. Don’t you know a little shop?
Fate pulls young people and young women aside.
“Come with me to this village,” says Fate; – come with me to the side street of this populous suburb; enter this social circle; to this chapel.
Of these seventeen young ladies, my dear son, which one do you need? – which of these thirteen would you like for yours, my daughter?
“No, miss; I’m sorry, I can’t show you the upstairs rooms today; there is no elevator here. But I’m sure there will be something in this room to suit your taste. Look around, my dear; then you see something useful.
– Does not cry; I can’t show you the warehouse next door now; we can’t take anyone there, only our very special customers. We keep our most expensive things in that room. (I just pulled the curtain down quickly, Miss Alkalom. I didn’t say it couldn’t be done.) Wouldn’t that be right too, sir? This color is the latest fashion. They really buy a lot of it.
– Does not cry? Well no! Natural. Not everyone has the same taste. Something dark would look better. Just bring those two brunettes, Miss Alkalom. They’re both pretty girls, aren’t they, sir? I would recommend the higher one. Just for a moment, please. Well, what do you think of him, sir; it’s like it was tailored just for you, isn’t it? He likes the lower one. How, sir, how; it doesn’t do anything, it doesn’t matter to us. Both have the same price. There is nothing more different than to take exactly what one wants; I always said. Does not cry; no more, I can’t put the port away for you, we never do that. Especially now; they are straight looking for brunettes. A gentleman was here just this morning; he looked for this particular one; he will come again tonight. God, I’m not sure if he won’t come again… How, sir, how; if you buy this now, then we agreed. (Put the others away, Miss Occasion; to this note that it is already sold.) I’m sure, sir, you’ll like it if you take it home. Thank you sir! Good afternoon.-49-
“Well miss: have you seen everything?” Yes, miss; it is also in stock at that price. (Just close those upper drawers, Miss Alkalom; never show more of the stock than is absolutely necessary; it only confuses the buyer. How many more times must I say it?) Yes, miss; you are right; biz there is a small error in this piece. Everyone has a tiny shortcoming. They say at the factory, they can’t help it; the problem is in the material. Only once in a season do we get a perfect piece; if you have it, the ladies aren’t too fond of it. Almost all of our customers prefer it if the product has a small defect. They say it’s so distinctive. Just look at that, miss. This is a very good wear; warm and calm. Do you want someone with more color? How, how. Miss Circumstance; just take that box off. No, miss; we are not good about these to last more than one year; depends on how it’s used, oh how, miss; these last here for many years. Haven’t you been told many times that calmer, simpler patterns last longer? Although we did experience that they are almost all similar to each other. It’s really impossible to say so precisely about any of them, as long as they don’t wear it. We do not tend to recommend one more warmly than the other. There are all sorts of possibilities for this and that; that is the nature of the goods. I always just say to the ladies: – Find it beautiful because you will have to wear it; then something that we don’t like right from the start is not good. “Yes, miss; it’s pretty and fits well; really. Thank you miss. You can put that aside, Miss Alkalom. Be careful not to get confused with what’s not yet sold. oh how, miss; these last here for many years. Haven’t you been told many times that calmer, simpler patterns last longer? Although we did experience that they are almost all similar to each other. It’s really impossible to say so precisely about any of them, as long as they don’t wear it. We do not tend to recommend one more warmly than the other. There are all sorts of possibilities for this and that; that is the nature of the goods. I always just say to the ladies: – Find it beautiful because you will have to wear it; then something that we don’t like right from the start is not good. “Yes, miss; it’s pretty and fits well; really. Thank you miss. You can put that aside, Miss Alkalom. Be careful not to get confused with what’s not yet sold. oh how, miss; these last here for many years. Haven’t you been told many times that calmer, simpler patterns last longer? Although we did experience that they are almost all similar to each other. It’s really impossible to say so precisely about any of them, as long as they don’t wear it. We do not tend to recommend one more warmly than the other. There are all sorts of possibilities for this and that; that is the nature of the goods. I always just say to the ladies: – Find it beautiful because you will have to wear it; then something that we don’t like right from the start is not good. “Yes, miss; it’s pretty and fits well; really. Thank you miss. You can put that aside, Miss Alkalom. Be careful not to get confused with what’s not yet sold. do simpler designs last longer? Although we did experience that they are almost all similar to each other. It’s really impossible to say so precisely about any of them, as long as they don’t wear it. We do not tend to recommend one more warmly than the other. There are all sorts of possibilities for this and that; that is the nature of the goods. I always just say to the ladies: – Find it beautiful because you will have to wear it; then something that we don’t like right from the start is not good. “Yes, miss; it’s pretty and fits well; really. Thank you miss. You can put that aside, Miss Alkalom. Be careful not to get confused with what’s not yet sold. do simpler designs last longer? Although we did experience that they are almost all similar to each other. It’s really impossible to say so precisely about any of them, as long as they don’t wear it. We do not tend to recommend one more warmly than the other. There are all sorts of possibilities for this and that; that is the nature of the goods. I always just say to the ladies: – Find it beautiful because you will have to wear it; then something that we don’t like right from the start is not good. “Yes, miss; it’s pretty and fits well; really. Thank you miss. You can put that aside, Miss Alkalom. Be careful not to get confused with what’s not yet sold. There are all sorts of possibilities for this and that; that is the nature of the goods. I always just say to the ladies: – Find it beautiful because you will have to wear it; then something that we don’t like right from the start is not good. “Yes, miss; it’s pretty and fits well; really. Thank you miss. You can put that aside, Miss Alkalom. Be careful not to get confused with what’s not yet sold. There are all sorts of possibilities for this and that; that is the nature of the goods. I always just say to the ladies: – Find it beautiful because you will have to wear it; then something that we don’t like right from the start is not good. “Yes, miss; it’s pretty and fits well; really. Thank you miss. You can put that aside, Miss Alkalom. Be careful not to get confused with what’s not yet sold.
A useful love potion is the juice of that little oriental flower that Oberon drops on our eyes while we sleep. Solves difficult questions instantly. God, it’s natural; Helen is much prettier. Just look at Mariska! Well, you can compare a pigeon to a raven! How could we doubt for a minute? This Mr. Bottom is a distinguished man; so smart, so pretty. Oberon; we are grateful for your medical office. Goddess Matilda Jane; this Matilde Jane is a real queen; Not since Eva was a woman born like Matilda Jane. There is a small freckle-50-on the nose; – small, sweet, with a little nose – and how beautiful it is. His big eyes light up sometimes angrily; what a beautiful, piquant thing when a woman is angry. William is such a dear silly little bear – how can you love silly men – especially when they are wise enough to fall in love with us. True; William is not a brilliant speaker; but how detestable is the man who is forever chirping. William has a jutting chin; the kind that is very pretty as a bird. God bless you, Oberon, for that little medicine; smear our eyelids with it again. You know what; give us a bottle as a gift.
Come on, what’s on your mind, Oberon? You gave the bottle to Puck, the villain. Take it away from him quickly. May God save us from the drink remaining with that impostor. God save us from Puck while we sleep.
Or, fairy king Oberon, let’s consider your potion as the one that opens our eyes instead of closing them? You know the story of the freshman, what they tell the child? the little girl who was a toad by day; only her beautiful, dark eyes remained. Only at night, when the prince pressed her to his heart, – lo! – she suddenly transformed into a princess. To the most beautiful and loving of women. There may be many royal ladies in Marshland; but their complexions are bad, their hair is thin, straw blue; the foolish prince jumps on his horse, but he surrounds a certain servant, in whom perhaps the queen is hiding. May the prince on whose eyes Oberon drops his potion be happy.
In some small mainland town – I don’t know the name – there is a picture somewhere that I will never forget. Nor could I say for sure whether that painting is good or bad; let the artists forgive me for only remembering the object. It depicts a man being crucified on the street. Not a martyr. If ever anyone deserved to be hanged, it was this one. The artist makes us understand this clearly. Even under the mask of death struggle, this face is evil, treacherous. Peasant girl hangs on the cross; he tiptoes on a patient donkey; he raises his face to the half-dead man to lean down and kiss his lips.-51-
Thief, traitor, swindler, all the marks are on that face; but what is behind the larva, the wild exterior? There was no masculinity left; – tender feeling? A woman crept up to the cross to kiss him: doesn’t this testify in his favor, Uristen? Love is blind; – blind faith even in the face of our mistakes. God be with us; Love would have very bad eyes if it weren’t blind. But he clearly sees all the good that is in us. You uptight lator, stand aside. Hundreds testify against you. Is there no one to speak for you? There is; woman, who loved, do you see him, mighty Biró? Let him speak.
I have strayed far from Hyde Park and the maiden exhibition.
They pass me several times; they chat, laugh, smile. Their eyes are clear from many silly thoughts; their voices are soft and musical. They are cheerful; I want it to be different.
Many are already women; many have reasonable hopes of getting married soon. The rest is hope. And we – me and ten thousand young people – yes: me and ten thousand “young people”; who among us does not consider himself a young person? The world will only get older, not us. Children stop playing; they get serious; the girl’s eyes darken. The hills are a bit steeper; the measured lands are slightly longer. The songs of the young men are not such joys as how we sang. The days have become a little cooler; the wind is a bit sharper. The wine lost a little of its flavor; the new joke is not like the old one. Their other sons became prosaic and shabby; only we haven’t changed. Only the world got older. So your careless laughter does not worry me, my young reader, I repeat that I and ten thousand young men walk here among the many sweet girls; our son’s eyes, we take our gaze: we are enthralled, captured, ensnared. But it can be a sweet thing to spend our lives with them; to do small favors for them, why gratitude is full of sweet smiles. But it is a precious thing to play with them and hear their overflowing laughter; to comfort them and see their grateful eyes. Life is really pleasant. The idea of marriage may have been born in the mind of some benevolent fairy.
We smile back at them; we make a way for them; we get up from our chairs with a polite “Allow me, Miss”, –52-or “Never mind; I prefer to stand” – with a form of expression. “It’s such a beautiful evening, isn’t it?” “And maybe – what’s in it?” – we mingle with these accidental companions on the road of life. There were brave, determined spirits among us, who dared to go with them to the point of mild flirting. Some of you knew some of them; in such lucky cases they even said more nice things to each other. The English middle-class young man and young woman are not very good at flirting. I have to admit that our methods are a bit elephantine; and in the evening we might be a bit loud. But we meant no harm; we were just trying to have as much fun as possible, to be entertained; it only takes a short time to fly.
My thoughts drift to the distant little homes of distant suburbs; the vig boys and girls around me seem older and more troubled. Well then? Aren’t the old faces lovely when we look at them with the old eyes, which are a little dim from the light of love? Aren’t worry and work companions of joy and peace?
But when I came nearer, I saw that many faces were furrowed; the look is sour and angry; the sounds around me grew rough. Compliments and kindness have all turned into quarrels and quarrels. The charming smile turns into a frown. They seem to care little about entertaining; and their determination is so strong that they are not amused, that they do not like anything.
The flirts! My God! They have completely forgotten how to flirt. What a pity for him! All the edges are bitter; they perform all the small services with grunts. It’s like the air is frozen. Darkness fell over everything.
Then I woke up to reality; I realized that I stayed in my chair longer than I wanted to. The walkway is empty; the musicians dispersed; the sun went down; I got up and headed home in the thinning crowd.
Nature is so insensitive. The Woman is irritating when we see how much she submits to her only idea: the preservation of her species.
“Be fruitful and multiply; let my world be more and more populated.”
That is why Nature educates and dresses young girls -53-mom; therefore knead them with skillful hands; paints them a gorgeous red and white. That is why he is crowned with magnificent hair; teaches them how to laugh and smile; makes their voice musical; that’s why he sends them out into the world to capture and enslave us.
“Look at how beautiful it is,” says the cunning old woman to Nature. “Take it for yourself; build a little nest with him in the pretty suburbs; work for it, live for it; make it possible for him to feed and raise the little ones whom I will send.”
And the old hundred-breasted Artemis whispers to the girl: “Isn’t he a good fellow? See how he loves; look how much he loves it! It will work for you, make you happy; builds a home for you. You will be the mother of his children.”
Then they hold each other’s hands; full of hope, love; from that moment on, Mother Nature had nothing more to do with them. Let the wrinkles come; let our voice be hardened and rough; let the fire ignite in our hearts; let the foolish selfishness, which we both thought we buried, be silent. Let him bring indifference, indifference; let evil thoughts and cruel words mix into our lives. What’s wrong with him? He grabbed us and chained us to his cart. She is the mother-in-law of us all. He brought the youth together; and immediately leaves them alone. We can love or hate, it doesn’t matter to him, the evil one.
I often wonder if cheerfulness cannot be taught. We do not use harsh words in business matters; we don’t say anything unpleasant to each other. As the cashier leans over the table, the shopkeeper is full of smiles and lovability; you can close the shop if it’s not like that. Business courtesy might consider a puffing customer an ass, but is wary of expressing his opinion. Quick words and excited voices were banished from the City. Why don’t we see that it is in our best interest to drive them out of Tooting and Hampstead.
How anxiously the young man sitting next to me draped the overcoat over the shoulders of the little seamstress. When the little girl declared that she was tired of sitting, he quickly and willingly jumped up to walk with her; although clear-54-it was that he feels very comfortable where he is. Well, the girl! He laughed at the edges; but they were not very good; there were no fingers. You probably read them months ago in your own weekly newsletter. But the pious deception made the young man happy. I wonder if ten years from now he will still be laughing at similar jokes. Ten years from now, will your son try so hard to cover it up? Experience shakes his head; amused by my question.
I would like to open a course on the relationship and happiness of married couples; about his anger, I’m just afraid that the institution wouldn’t work. I would miss students. Husbands would advise their wives to act diligently; they would generously offer tandija as a birthday present. The woman would be angry that my husband wants to throw away money for such a purpose. “No John, my dear,” she would say disinterestedly, “you need those lessons more than I do.” It would be an ugly thing for me to take them away from you. They would dwell on this subject all day.
What nonsense. It’s so bittersweet that we’re escapading our baty for the big trip of a lifetime. We waste so much time and effort; we work so hard. We bake a “Choice” cake; we prepare the sauces so carefully; mix the salad with loving hands; we fill the belly up to the neck with all kinds of goodies that we can imagine. Everything is together to make the trip a great success – we just forgot the salt. A cruel blow! forget the salt. We crouch at our desks, in our workshops, to create a home for those we love; we give up our pleasures; our rest. We work there in the kitchen from morning to night; then the whole celebration has no taste because we forgot a tiny bit of salt; a thought of kindness, moodiness; a handful of kind words; a slight tenderness, a nickname; a pinch of politeness.
Everyone knows the respectable housewife who works from eight in the morning until twelve midnight to keep her house, as she says, “in order”. She is such a good woman. So tireless, so selfless, so conscientious; and so annoying. Your rooms are so clean; her servants are obedient, her children are orderly; the lunches are so gorgeous;-55-and the whole house is so unfriendly. Everything around him is as normal as a raisin cake and yet everyone is unhappy.
Good lady; you polish your table, you engrave your copper; but you let the most valuable piece of furniture in the house go to waste; don’t worry about it. You will find it in your room in front of your mirror. Shabby, poor; it has aged prematurely, the glaze has chipped off; lost its freshness and charm. Remember when your husband brought it home for the first time, how proud he was of it? What do you think, did you take good care of it? Did you know how precious you are to him? You would have thought a little less about the pots and plates; you would have taken a little more trouble, it would have been wiser. Brighten yourself up a little, Madame; you once had a witty reputation; your laugh was pleasant; your speech did not always revolve around the vanity of today’s servants and the commiseration of shopkeepers. Madame; we do not live on spotless canvas, on a carpet without a grain of dust. Just shake off that bunch of letters what do you keep tied up with frayed tape at the bottom of your chest of drawers – what a shame you don’t read them more often. He never talked about your collars and laces; never about the merits of your clothes. It was your wavy hair that enchanted us, we haven’t seen your sunny smile for a couple of years, Madame – the cook and the butcher boy are the reason, I think, your small hands, rose-bud lips – they’ve all been somewhat out of shape lately. Sniff a little less with Mary-Ann, try to laugh at least once a day; maybe you will get back the charming curve of your lips. It’s worth a try. She used to have very pretty lips. Madame – the cook and the butcher boy are the reason, I think, your small hands, rose-bud lips – you’ve all been somewhat out of shape lately. Sniff a little less with Mary-Ann, try to laugh at least once a day; maybe you will get back the charming curve of your lips. It’s worth a try. She used to have very pretty lips. Madame – the cook and the butcher boy are the reason, I think, your small hands, rose-bud lips – you’ve all been somewhat out of shape lately. Sniff a little less with Mary-Ann, try to laugh at least once a day; maybe you will get back the charming curve of your lips. It’s worth a try. She used to have very pretty lips.
Who invented the bad faith lie that you can win a man’s heart through his stomach? How many foolish women – who can believe – let their love slip out of the salon while they were busy in the kitchen. But of course, if you were so foolish as to marry a pig, it’s only natural if you dedicated your whole life to doing laundry. But are you sure it’s really a pig? If by chance it is not; and then, Madame, you have made an ugly mistake. You are very modest, my dear lady. I dare say, without wanting to make you very caught up in doing so,-56-that even at the dinner table you are more important than roast beef. Courage, madam; don’t be afraid to spear your own cook. You can make the tartar sauce spicier; softer than melting butter. There was a time when he didn’t know if he was eating veal or pork if you sat at the same table as him. So whose fault is it? Don’t underestimate us so much. We are not ascetics; not all of them are good; we all like a good lunch, as a healthy person likes. But we hope we love our sweethearts and wives even more. Try us. A humble lunch; let’s say, not a “very” well-cooked lunch. But you paint brilliantly next to him; you laugh, chirp cheerfully, cleverly – as only you can, you know. This is much nicer to us after the day’s labors than the same lunch, if it is perfectly prepared and you are silent, grumpy, you sit next to him worriedly. Your beautiful hair is messy; your pretty face is full of shy folds because of my pate; you shyly wait to see if the omelette was successful.
Marta, Marta; don’t try so hard. You are the necessary thing when a house is made of bricks and mortar. See that they serve you adequately; that you be perfect, that you be tender, satisfactory; that you may be worthy of being seated around you. We needed a wife, comrade, friend; not a cook, a nanny.
But what is the use of the word? The world always has its own fool. When I think about all the good advice I gave him – and how little he had, I must admit, I get very depressed. I gave good advice to a very young lady just the other day. I learned how to handle aunties skillfully. He was just sucking the end of his pencil; this is also something that I have warned many times: don’t do it. He took it out of his mouth so he could speak.
“I think you know what everyone should always do and how they should do it?” he says.
There are moments when a person is forced to sacrifice his modesty for his sense of duty.
“Of course I know,” I answer.
“Does mom know how everyone has to do everything?” – the other question.-57-
Now my conviction is by no means as strong. But I sacrificed myself again for domestic reasons.
“Sure,” I replied, “and take the pencil out of your mouth.” I told you once. Someday you will swallow; you get enteritis and die.
Apparently, he wanted to solve some problem.
“Well then, it seems the adults all know everything,” was the conclusion.
I have my doubts, whether children are really as simple creatures as they paint. If it is simple stupidity that makes them give answers of a similar nature, one would feel sorry for them and try to correct them. But isn’t that stupid? God, they should still be repaired, but with a different method.
Last morning I heard the nanny talking to this particular specimen. This nanny is a very honest person; gave some heartwarming advice to the children. He pursued a larger treatise; he argued about the virtue of silence. Dorothea interrupts him saying:
“Please listen, Nanny.” I never get a moment’s peace from your clapping.
Of course, such an interruption discourages the virtuous woman, who only wants to fulfill her duty.
The little one was very unlucky last Tuesday night. For my part, I think you should never drink rhubarb before April, and not even then with lemon. His mother enlightened him about illnesses and pains. He made him understand that at such times one must be patient; that we have to endure the troubles that the good God throws at us. Dorothea goes into detail, as children usually do:
“We have to put up with the cod liver oil, what is God sending?”
“Make sure.”
“And the nannies whom the good Lord sends?”
“Go, then; and be glad that it is; there are little girls who don’t even have a nanny. Then don’t talk so much.
I will find your mother in tears on Friday.
“Well, what’s wrong?” I ask.-58-
“Oh, nothing,” comes the answer, “just the baby.” Such a strange child. I can’t figure it out.
“What did you do again?”
“Oh never mind; because he will argue after all.
That is true; it has this fault. I don’t know where he gets it from, but he has it.
“So?”
“Well, he made me angry; to punish her, I said she can’t take the baby out for a walk in the pram.
“Well then?”
– Well, he didn’t answer anything, but as soon as I put my foot out the door, I hear him talking to himself, as he used to:
“Well?”
“He says that:
“What does he say?”
– He says that: – I have to be patient. I have to endure this mother that God sent me.
He eats lunch with us on Sundays. We allow him to study manners, good behavior. Mr. Milson also looked over the past; we argued about politics. I was interested: I pushed my plate aside and leaned forward; I leaned on the table. Dorothea has a good habit of talking to herself in a half-silly, whispering voice; this whisper is of the kind used in the love scenes of Adelphi plays. I hear him humming:
“I have to sit up straight.” Do not slide your elbows on the table. Ordinary, lowly people do just that.
I glanced over at him; he sat very straight; it was as if I were contemplating something that was a thousand miles away. And we all lay around lazily! We straightened up; the conversation stopped.
Of course, we took it as a joke when the child went out. But somehow it looked like it, we weren’t kidding.
I wish I could remember my childhood. I would like to know if children are really as simple as they seem.
