The Eternal Feminine

SHOPPING FOR POSTAGE STAMPS

“You keep stamps, don’t you?”

“Yes, Miss; what kind?”

“Why, I don’t know. But I want something that will go well with blue note paper.”

“Yes, miss; do you want letter postage?”

“Of course! I want to post letters, not chairs or tables!”

“Where are the letters to? United States?”

“Be careful young man, or I’ll report you for rudeness. I won’t tell you where the letter is going, it’s private correspondence, but it is in the United States.”

“Then you want a two-cent stamp; here you are.”

“Oh, red ones! Never! Do you suppose I’d put that sickly shade of crushed gooseberry juice on my robin’s egg blue envelopes? Is this the nearest thing you have in two-cent stamps?”

“The very latest style, I assure you.”

“Well, they won’t do. Why, they aren’t fit for anything, unless to make a stamp plate with. Haven’t you any blue ones?”

“Yes, we have a nice line of blue ones, at five cents each.”

“Oh, the price doesn’t matter; let me see them, please.”

“Here they are, beautiful shade of blue.”

“H’m; good enough shade, but it doesn’t quite harmonize with my envelopes. You see they are a sorty of greenishy-blue, and your stamps are more indigoish. Do you expect any new ones in?”

“Well, not any different colors.”

“Oh, dear, that’s always the way! But maybe I could take some of these and dye them with my Easter egg dyes, to match my paper. I did that with some lace, and it worked awfully well! What’s the lightest color you have?”

“These pale green ones are as light as any. But if you dye them blue you can’t use them.”

“Why not?”

“The government won’t allow it.”

“How mean! As if it made any difference to them what color stationery people use! It almost makes me want to be a suffragette when I hear of such tyranny! Not that I’d really be one! I’m too fearfully afraid of a mouse! But I’d like to have a few rights about postage stamps. I do think the selection is very limited. There’s more beauty and variety in cigar bands. Well, I’ll look at these violet ones. How much are they?”

“These are three cents apiece.”

“H’m, two for five cents, I suppose. Well, I could get violet note paper, and use violet ink; then these stamps would do nicely.”

“And they’d match your eyes fairly well, too.”

“Isn’t that queer! Everybody says I have violet eyes, but, really they’re not a bit the color of these stamps, you know.”

“No? Look at me and let me see; well, no, they’re not exactly the same shade, but they’re violet eyes, all right. How many stamps will you have?”

“Two, please; but won’t you give them to me out of the middle of the sheet? Those around the edge seem a little faded.”

“We can’t tear stamps out of the middle of a sheet!”

“Oh, yes, you can, if you try – if I ask you to try! I’ll take that one, and that one!”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. This one did you say? And this one?”

“Yes, please. Will you wrap them up in a neat parcel, and send them? Good morning.”

AT THE BRIDGE TABLE

“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Sevier, I’m going to play at this table. Where do I sit? Here? Perhaps you’d rather have this seat, with your back to the light, don’t you know? Cut for partners? Ace low. Why, isn’t that funny! I always thought the ace was the highest card of all, if you don’t use a joker. And you don’t in Bridge. Do you? No; I haven’t played very much, but I’m quick at catching on. I always say Bridge is for those who are too old or too married to flirt. Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Sevier, of course you’re not either! Well, I know you’ve been married twice, but that isn’t much nowadays. I’m perfectly sure I never shall be married at all. Of course, I’m only nineteen, but I think I look older. No? Well, one can’t tell about one’s looks. Mother says very few sensible men would want to marry me! But I tell her very few would be enough. Now, you needn’t laugh at that, Mr. Chapman, it’s quite true. Are you my partner? No? Oh, I play with Mr. Ritchie, and you play with Mrs. Sevier. Very well, let’s begin.”

“Shall we play Lilies?”

“Play Lilies? Why, Mr. Chapman, I thought we were to play Bridge! I took half a dozen lessons a year ago. I haven’t played since, but I’ve a marvelous memory. Oh, I see, you’re just chaffing me, because my name is Lilly! You mean you’ll play Lilly’s game. Now, you’ll excuse me, won’t you, if I sort my cards face down, on the table? Why, I seem to have five suits! I declare, my hand is a perfect rubbish heap! Oh, Mrs. Sevier, have you joined that new City Beautiful Club? I’m on the Rubbish Committee, and I have to read a paper on the æsthetic decoration of ash cans, or Art in Rubbish. It’s such fun! I love women’s clubs. I’m going to join another. I forget what it’s called, but they want poor, dumb animals to have a vote, or something like that. Well, come on, people, let’s play Bridge. Oh, don’t look like that, Mr. Ritchie! Gay and festive, please! Is it my deal? Well, you just deal for me. I always come out wrong.

“What are my conventions? Really, I haven’t any. I’m the most unconventional person you ever saw. Why, mother says – but speaking of conventions, our Federated Clubs are going to have a stunning convention next week. That’s where I’m going to read my paper. I’ve a screaming new costume – and a hat! Well, if I began to tell you about that hat it would interrupt our game. Wait till I’m Dummy, Mrs. Sevier, and I’ll tell you. I expect these men wouldn’t really care to – Oh, my discard? Yes, indeed – I – why, yes, of course I always discard spades. They count the least, you know.”

“Unless they’re lilies.”

“Oh, Mr. Ritchie! How dear of you! Do you really set such store by my spades? Now, that’s a partner worth having! I love to play Bridge, if I can have my own way. Do you know, of all things, I hate disapproval. I just can’t stand it if people are cross to me!”

“You don’t even avail yourself of a cross-ruff, do you?”

“Oh, Mr. Ritchie, how witty! Did I overlook a chance? That reminds me of a lady in our club, Mrs. Ruff. You see, she hasn’t a very becoming husband – at present – and she always looks so discontented, we call her the Cross Ruff! Yes – yes – I am going to play. I was just thinking.

“My heavens and earth, Mrs. Sevier, don’t look at me like that! Your eyes are perfect sledgehammers! No, I wasn’t peeking into Mr. Chapman’s hand! But I just chanced to catch a glimpse of his Queen of Hearts – Oh, Mr. Chapman, are you going to the Muchmore’s fancy ball? Because, I’m going as Queen of Hearts, and if you wanted to go as King of Hearts – Hal Breston insists he’s going to take that part, but – well, I want to pique him – Yes, yes, Mrs. Sevier, I know it’s my play, I was just thinking. Bridge isn’t a game you can play thoughtlessly – like Tit-tat-toe. You see, the Dummy is on my right hand – don’t you think that phrase has a funny sound? ‘She sat on her hostess’ right hand?’ How could the poor hostess eat? Yes, yes – there, I’ll play my king. Oh, he’s taken it with the ace! Why, I thought that was out long ago! Well, you made me play so fast, I scarcely knew what I was playing. I’m afraid you’ll think I’m flighty, but really I have so many things on my mind, it’s hard to think of only one at a time. Of course, it’s different with you, Mrs. Sevier. Your life is more in a rut – if you know what I mean. Well, being married, you can’t help that. Yes, I know it’s my play – I was just thinking. I guess I’ll play a diamond. I know I’m returning my opponent’s lead, but I have a reason. Now, don’t scold me, Mr. Ritchie; I simply cannot play if people disapprove of what I do. Yes, smile at me like that, it’s ever so much nicer! You seem a little put out, Mrs. Sevier! Are you holding poor hands? Come, come, if these two gentlemen and I are having such a pleasant game, you must enjoy it, too. What did you bid, Mrs. Sevier?”

“I think I shall have to bid adieu.”

“Oh, must you go, really? Too bad! Well, good night, and thank you for such a pleasant time.

“Now, let us play three-hand auction; it’s a splendid game.”

SHE GOES SHOPPING

“Why, Mr. Willing, good afternoon! How pleasant to meet you on the avenue like this. But what are you doing in the shopping district? Hunting bargain neckties? There, there, don’t look so utterly galvanized; I didn’t mean it. Besides, I know perfectly well why you’re here; you came on the mere chance of meeting me! Ah, ha, you needn’t look so embarrassed about it. I don’t mind being seen with you; I’m not a bit exclusive. Well, it was a shame to tease him – so it was. Now, as a very special favor, how would you like to go into Price’s with me, while I shop a little?

“H’m, you don’t seem awfully eager. What? Walk up the avenue instead? Well, we will, afterward. But let’s run in here just a minute while I buy a veil. It won’t take any time at all. And then we can go for a walk.

“Oh, what a crowd! I do think the people get thicker every year. Well, did you get through? I thought I’d lost you. When I saw you wedged in that revolving door with that fat lady you looked so funny. She was real cross, wasn’t she? But you were so meek, I had to laugh. You looked like a feeble-minded jelly fish.

“Now, now, Willy Willing, don’t peeve. Smile a ’ittle bitsy; yes, you do seem to be the only man here. But I’m glad to have you, it is so nice to have a man to pilot one through a shopping crowd. Oh, of course, the floor-walkers are just for that purpose, but they can’t go outside their diocese, or whatever you call it. Now, you can go ahead and blaze a trail. The veil counter is over that way, I think, anyway, it’s quite near the ribbons and catty-cornered across from the artificial flowers.

“Yes, here we are at last. Now, I’ll sit on this stool and you stand right by me. Don’t let women push in between us, for I want your advice.

“Oh, look who’s here! Why, Tottie May! I haven’t seen you since we were in Venice. Do you remember Venice? And those two long lines of Hoffman houses each side of the Grand Canal! Wasn’t it stunning? You, darling, how lovely to see you again. Yes, yes, I do, I do want to be waited on, but do wait a minute, can’t you? Yes, I want veiling, by the yard – there, that’s the kind I want. Oh! please don’t let that woman carry it off!

“Goodby, darling, must you go? Yes, the large meshed kind. Oh, no, not that one covered with little blue beads. I should feel as if I had turquoise measles. I want a sort of gray – the shade they call ‘Frightened Mouse’ – though why a mouse should ever be frightened when we are all scared to death of them – There, Mr. Willing, do you think this one is becoming? When I hold it up against my face, so. Where’s baby? Peep-bo. Oh, gracious, that floor-walker thought I peep-boed at him.

“Mercy me, I have rubbed all the powder off my nose. Oh, no, it won’t hurt the veil. I beg your pardon, madame, did I push you with my elbow? Indeed, I’m not taking up all the room. I’m fearfully crowded. And I rather fancy I can try the effect of a veil if I want to.

“Now, Willy Willing, how do you like this one, with the big polka dots? Yes, I know, only one dot shows, they’re so big and so far apart. But polka dots are so fashionable.

“Do you know the polka is coming in again – the dance I mean? They call it the panther polka? It’s awful sinuous – a sort of stealthy glide – makes you think of Sarah Bernhardt, or Elinor Weeks, but the best people have taken it up.

“What? you’re afraid they’ll get taken up? Oh, Willie Willing, how witty you are.

“There, do you like this veil? Don’t you think it suits my hair? Mr. Dow says my hair is a yellow peril. I don’t know what he means.

“You like my face better without my veil? Why, how pretty of you. Now, just for that I’ll let you select one.

“You’d select a bridal veil? Oh, fie, fie, Mr. Willing. You don’t really – Yes, I do want a veil. Please show me some of your other styles. And Mr. Willing, what do you think? At Gladys’s wedding next week, she is going to have – Certainly, my dear girl, I’m ready to look at your goods, but these are not the veils I want. Show me something newer, these are all – Why, Gladys said that Polly Peters said – do you remember Polly Peters? Well, you’d never know her now. Slim! She’s nothing but a spine – Yes, my girl, I’m looking at your veils, but I want the piece that lady has just picked up. Let’s wait till she lays it down.

“Now, Mr. Willing, you mustn’t get impatient. You men don’t realize what hard work shopping is, until now – Oh, my gracious! I have to be at our culture class by 4 o’clock. There’s a lecture on ‘Art Uplift in the Kitchen,’ and I know it will be fine.

“No, I don’t cook, but it’s such a satisfaction to know that one’s soup is made in a Greek-shaped jug, instead of a crude iron kettle – Oh, mercy, no! I wouldn’t wear a veil like that! Why, Mrs. Bailey had one like that once, and the very day I saw her wearing it I lost my amethyst hatpin. I’ve always considered a veil like that unlucky ever since.

“Well, I don’t seem to care for any of these veils, they’re not a bit distinctive. And a veil is such an important part of a costume – it dresses up the face so. These patterns are most uninteresting.

“Come on, Willing Willy, let’s go down to Storer’s and look at veils there – shall us?

“Why, you don’t seem to want to go a bit. Now, don’t go just to please me. I thought perhaps you were interested in —

“Oh, do you want to go? Do you know I believe you men just love to go shopping, and you only pretend you don’t.

“I am sorry, dear, that your veils don’t suit me, but, of course, I can’t buy what I don’t want just to help the store along; you couldn’t expect that, could you?

“And, anyway, I wasn’t exactly buying a veil – I was just shopping for one.”

A QUIET AFTERNOON

“Oh, how do you do, Mr. Willing? I’m so glad to see you! I was just saying to myself it’s such a dull afternoon I’d be glad to see anybody.”

“Even me!”

“Now, you’re just fishing for a compliment, but you won’t get it. Sit down in that big easy chair and we’ll have a nice, quiet, comfy afternoon, and you can talk to me.”

“I can do what?”

“Oh, well, I’ll talk to you, then. I want to ask your advice about something. I’m in a – well, a sort of a dilemma – and I want the judgment of a man of the world – an all-round knowing man – if you know what I mean. Oh, there’s the telephone – pardon me, Mr. Willing – I’ll just see who it is – no, you needn’t leave the room – it’s probably Tottie, or some of the girls. Hello! Oh, hello! Is that you, Jack? Why, you dear boy, I’m so glad to see you – hear you, I mean.

“What? Not really? Oh, the idea! Now, don’t you flatter me like that – oh, no, no – I couldn’t possibly! – well, maybe – if you’ll promise to be good.

“What, now? Oh, no, Jack, you can’t come up here now. I’m – just going out! No – you didn’t hear a man’s voice exclaiming! That was Fido! Yes, he has a human sort of a bark. Well, yes, it is a little like Willy Willing’s voice – he’s a perfect puppy! What! No! Of course, I mean Fido. No, Jack, you can’t come now; I tell you I’m going out. I have on my hat and coat already – yes, that was Fido again – he always makes that queer sound when anybody telephones. (Puts hand over transmitter.) Mr. Willing, you must keep still, or I won’t tell all these fibs for your benefit! But I don’t want our nice quiet afternoon intruded upon – Yes, Jack, come to-morrow. I have something I want to consult you about. I really need the advice of a (covers transmitter again) – Mr. Willing, please step into the library for a moment. Look at the new books on the table – Yes, Jack, truly, I need the experienced advice of an all-round man of the world – like you – oh, yes, you are – you’re awfully well balanced and all that – don’t talk when I am talking – wait till I ring off – oh, Jane is just bringing me a card – wait a minute, Jack – why, it’s Mr. Strong – I like that man awfully well – show him in, Jane. Goodby, Jack – no, I can’t listen now – good-by.”

“How do you do, Mr. Strong? Do sit down. Take this easy chair. I’m so glad to see you – yes, isn’t it dull weather? So good of you to come and brighten up an otherwise lonely afternoon. Excuse me, just a moment; there’s a new book in the library I want to show you. (Goes into next room.)

“Now Mr. Willing, you must stay here till Mr. Strong goes. Because, if you show yourself, you’ll have to leave here before he does – ”

“I won’t!”

“Hush, he’ll hear you – now, I won’t be a bit entertaining to him, and he’ll soon go – and then we can have our nice, quiet afternoon. Now, will you be goody-boy and stay here and not make a sound?”

“Yes, but I’ll eavesdrop everything you say.”

“I don’t care. I shan’t mean a word of it!”

“And if you don’t fire him pretty swift I’ll come in there and stir up a hurrah’s nest!”

“There! there! there! little one. Rest tranquil! Read a nice, pretty book or something, but don’t smoke, or he’ll know somebody’s in here.”

(Lilly returns to drawing room.) “Yes, I’m so glad you came, Mr. Strong – what book? – Oh, yes, I was going to show you a book, but I – it wasn’t there. Never mind, let’s just chat – I want to ask you something, something serious, you know. May I?”

“Oh – I don’t know – you see, it’s Leap Year!”

“Now Mr. Strong, don’t frivol. It doesn’t suit your iron-bound countenance. And, truly, I’m in earnest! You know, we women like to get the ideas of a man’s brain! A man of judgment and experience – a – well, what they call a man of the world – oh, yes, you are. I often quote your opinions – they’re so profound. Now, what I want to ask you about is – oh, there’s the telephone – excuse me – just a tiny minute – no, don’t go. Oh, hello! Is that you, Flossy? Darling girl, do come over, can’t you? – yes, now – right away – oh, I wish you could – I want to hear all about it! – only last night? – a ruby and diamond! – oh, heavenly! – well, come to-morrow morning, then – yes – yes, indeed, dearest – goodby – goodby – yes, I think so, too – perfectly horrid, but, oh, of course, yes – goodby – no, nothing of the sort – yes, I’ll come right over – goodby – ”

“Oh, must you go, Mr. Strong?”

“Well, yes, I did tell Miss Fay I’d go over to see her, but I meant after your call was over – please don’t go yet – you must? Well, come again, do – I always enjoy a talk with you – you’re so – so profound – if you know what I mean. Good afternoon, Mr. Strong.

“Now, come back, Mr. Willing! Didn’t I tell you I’d get rid of him in short order? But he’s such an everlasting talker it’s hard to make him go. Now, we can have our nice, quiet afternoon. Excuse me just a minute first – I want to telephone just the leastest word to Tottie May!

“Oh, hello! Is this you, darling? What do you think? – oh, you know already? Did Flossy tell you? – oh, no, not really! Well, for gracious goodness’ sake! – yes, coral-pink chiffon, in one of those new smudge designs – oh, yes – a black chip Gainsborough, with practically all the feathers in the world piled on it – no, Thursday afternoon – why, about five – violets? Well, rather! Oh, Tottie – and, yes, Mr. Willing is here, but he can’t hear what you say – no, he doesn’t mind waiting – oh, Tottie! I can’t believe it. Yes, she did! And she said that Billy said if she ever did such a thing again – Oh, Tottie, what do you think? Mr. Willing has gone!”

TAKING CARE OF UNCLE

“Hello, Uncle Abel! Here’s me! Here’s your little ray of sunshine. Aunt Hetty sprung a C. Q. D. at me over the telephone and said she had to go to a meeting of some Hen’s Club or other, and would I come around here and sit with you. So I came just as soon as I could skittle over. You poor dear, are you awfully tired of staying in the house? Well, I suppose gout is annoying. Why don’t you try Mental Science? They say it’s fine! You know, you just think you haven’t any gout, and then you don’t have any! Though, for that matter, you might as well think you hadn’t any foot.”

“And, then, wouldn’t I have any?”

“No, I suppose not. But that wouldn’t do any good, because I’ve heard that soldiers, or any people with their feet cut off, feel them hurting just the same. But, never mind, my poor darling, I’m going to be so entertaining this afternoon that you won’t know whether you have any feet or not.”

“Entertaining, hey? I suppose that means you’ll chatter like a confounded magpie till I’m nearly crazy. I don’t see why women have to be eternally talking!”

“There, there, Uncle Abel, your foot is bad to-day, isn’t it? Aunt Hetty said you were as cross as a teething baby – ”

“Oh, she said that, did she?”

“Yes, and she said she hoped to goodness I could chirk you up some, for she’d just about reached the end of her patience!”

“Pooh! She never had any patience! Now, if she were in my plight – full of chronic hereditary gout, and just getting over the grippe – ”

“Well, you ought to be thankful it isn’t chronic hereditary grippe! But men can’t stand a bit of discomfort!”

“Confound your impertinence, Miss! What are you talking about? I don’t know what your aunt meant by getting you over here this afternoon! You’ve no more feeling or sympathy than a Dutch doll!”

“Oh, yes I have, Uncle, dear! Here, I’ll rest your foot in an easier position – ”

“Ooo! E – E! Ouch!! Gosh, Lilly! I wish I had something to throw at you! Get away, girl!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your poor, dear, suffering old wrapped-up bundle of foot! Here, let me put another sofa cushion under it. Say, Uncle, I saw the loveliest burnt leather sofa-pillow in Van Style’s window as I came along! It would suit my room beautifully. There, there, dear, let me rub your forehead with this cologne; isn’t that soothing?”

“Soothing nothing! You’ve doused it all in my eyes, they smart like fire! Oo, ouch! Lilly, get out!”

“Well, try that mental science again. Think they don’t smart. Think you haven’t any eyes!”

“I wish I hadn’t any ears! Do stop chattering, Lilly!”

“My! Aunt Hetty sized up your state of mind all right, didn’t she? Well, Uncle, I guess I’ll read to you. Here’s a lovely story in this new magazine. Listen: ‘The pale young man fairly trembled as he looked at her. “Ethelyn,” he murmured, in sighing tones, “you are so adorably subtle, so tragically intensive, that I feel – I feel – ”’”

“I refuse to know how that young nincompoop felt! Shut up that fool book, Lilly! If you must read, read me some Wall Street news.”

“All right, Uncle Abel, here goes. I’ll read from this morning’s paper: ‘Coffee declined rather sharply at the opening.’ Why, how funny! What was the opening? A sort of a reception day? And if people declined coffee, why did they do so sharply? Why not say, ‘No, thank you,’ and take tea?”

“I don’t want that column; turn to ‘Gossip of Wall Street.’”

“Yes, here that is. But, Uncle, do the magnates and things gossip? I thought that was a woman’s trick! Well, here we are: ‘Steel rail changes discussed all day!’ Oh, Uncle, and then to call women chatterboxes! When men talk all day long about a foolish little thing like changing a steel rail! Why, I can change a whole hat in less time than that! Say, Uncle, there was the dearest hat in the Featherton’s window – ”