The Forerunner Part 74

Then at last we should begin to have some notion of what to expect in children, and how to get it. The girl would look forward not merely to some vague little ones to love and care for, but to having finer children than anyone else--if she could! And she would naturally have a new standard of fatherhood, and sternly refuse to accept disease and the vice which makes disease.

Then, when the children came, she would know the size and weight that was normal, the way to feed and clothe the little body so as to promote the best growth; the kind of exercise and training essential to develop that legitimate human beauty and power which ought to belong to all of us.

We have our vulgar "Baby Shows," where fat-cheeked, over-fed younglings are proudly exhibited. A time is coming when, without public exhibitions, without prize-money or clamorous vote, we shall raise a new standard in child culture--and live up to it.

HEAVEN FORBID!

When I was seventeen, you'd find No youth so brash as I; Things must be settled to my mind, Or I'd know why!

I knew it all, and somewhat more, What I believed was true; The future held no task in store I could not do!

If I had died in my youthful pride-- And no man can say when-- Should I have been immortal As I was then? (Heaven forbid!)

When I was forty-two I stood Successful, proud and strong; Little I cared for bad or good-- My purse was long.

My breakfast, newspaper and train,-- My office,--the Exchange-- My work, my pleasure, and my gain-- A narrow range.

If I had died in my business pride-- And no man can say when-- Should I have been immortal As I was then? (Heaven forbid!)

Now I am old, and yet I keep Intelligent content; I wake and sleep in the quiet deep Of disillusionment.

I don't believe, nor disbelieve-- I simply do not know.

I fear no grave--no heaven crave-- Am quite prepared to go.

But when I die--and I would not stay, Though a friend should show me how, Shall I become immortal, As I am now? (Heaven forbid!)

WHAT DIANTHA DID

CHAPTER VII.

HERESY AND SCHISM.

You may talk about religion with a free and open mind, For ten dollars you may criticize a judge; You may discuss in politics the newest thing you find, And open scientific truth to all the deaf and blind, But there's one place where the brain must never budge!

CHORUS.

Oh, the Home is Utterly Perfect!

And all its works within!

To say a word about it-- To criticize or doubt it-- To seek to mend or move it-- To venture to improve it-- Is The Unpardonable Sin!

--"Old Song."

Mr. p.o.r.ne took an afternoon off and came with his wife to hear their former housemaid lecture. As many other men as were able did the same.

All the members not bedridden were present, and nearly all the guests they had invited.

So many were the acceptances that a downtown hall had been taken; the floor was more than filled, and in the gallery sat a block of servant girls, more gorgeous in array than the ladies below whispering excitedly among themselves. The platform recalled a "tournament of roses," and, sternly important among all that fragrant loveliness, sat Mrs. Dankshire in "the chair" flanked by Miss Torbus, the Recording Secretary, Miss Ma.s.sing, the Treasurer, and Mrs. Ree, tremulous with importance in her official position. All these ladies wore an air of high emprise, even more intense than that with which they usually essayed their public duties. They were richly dressed, except Miss Torbus, who came as near it as she could.

At the side, and somewhat in the rear of the President, on a chair quite different from "the chair," discreetly gowned and of a bafflingly serene demeanor, sat Miss Bell. All eyes were upon her--even some opera gla.s.ses.

"She's a good-looker anyhow," was one masculine opinion.

"She's a peach," was another, "Tell you--the chap that gets her is well heeled!" said a third.

The ladies bent their hats toward one another and conferred in flowing whispers; and in the gallery eager confidences were exchanged, with giggles.

On the small table before Mrs. Dankshire, shaded by a magnificent bunch of roses, lay that core and crux of all parliamentry dignity, the gavel; an instrument no self-respecting chairwoman may be without; yet which she still approaches with respectful uncertainty.

In spite of its large size and high social standing, the Orchardina Home and Culture Club contained some elements of unrest, and when the yearly election of officers came round there was always need for careful work in practical politics to keep the reins of government in the hands of "the right people."

Mrs. Thaddler, conscious of her New York millions, and Madam Weatherstone, conscious of her Philadelphia lineage, with Mrs. Johnston A. Marrow ("one of the Boston Marrows!" was awesomely whispered of her), were the heads of what might be called "the conservative party" in this small parliament; while Miss Miranda L. Eagerson, describing herself as 'a journalist,' who held her place in local society largely by virtue of the tacit dread of what she might do if offended--led the more radical element.

Most of the members were quite content to follow the lead of the solidly established ladies of Orchard Avenue; especially as this leadership consisted mainly in the pursuance of a masterly inactivity. When wealth and aristocracy combine with that common inertia which we dignify as "conservatism" they exert a powerful influence in the great art of sitting still.

Nevertheless there were many alert and conscientious women in this large membership, and when Miss Eagerson held the floor, and urged upon the club some active a.s.sistance in the march of events, it needed all Mrs.

Dankshire's generalship to keep them content with marking time.

On this auspicious occasion, however, both sides were agreed in interest and approval. Here was a subject appealing to every woman present, and every man but such few as merely "boarded"; even they had memories and hopes concerning this question.

Solemnly rose Mrs. Dankshire, her full silks rustling about her, and let one clear tap of the gavel fall into the sea of soft whispering and guttural murmurs.

In the silence that followed she uttered the momentous announcements: "The meeting will please come to order," "We will now hear the reading of the minutes of the last meeting," and so on most conscientiously through officer's reports and committees reports to "new business."

Perhaps it is their more frequent practice of religious rites, perhaps their devout acceptance of social rulings and the dictates of fashion, perhaps the lifelong reiterance of small duties at home, or all these things together, which makes women so seriously letter-perfect in parliamentry usage. But these stately ceremonies were ended in course of time, and Mrs. Dankshire rose again, even more solemn than before, and came forward majestically.

"Members---and guests," she said impressively, "this is an occasion which brings pride to the heart of every member of the Home and Culture Club. As our name implies, this Club is formed to serve the interests of The Home--those interests which stand first, I trust, in every human heart."

A telling pause, and the light patter of gloved hands.

"Its second purpose," pursued the speaker, with that measured delivery which showed that her custom, as one member put it, was to "first write and then commit," "is to promote the cause of Culture in this community.

Our aim is Culture in the broadest sense, not only in the curricula of inst.i.tutions of learning, not only in those spreading branches of study and research which tempts us on from height to height"--("proof of arboreal ancestry that," Miss Eagerson confided to a friend, whose choked giggle attracted condemning eyes)--"but in the more intimate fields of daily experience."

"Most of us, however widely interested in the higher education, are still--and find in this our highest honor--wives and mothers." These novel t.i.tles called forth another round of applause.

"As such," continued Mrs. Dankshire, "we all recognize the difficult--the well-nigh insuperable problems of the"--she glanced at the gallery now paying awed attention--"domestic question."

"We know how on the one hand our homes yawn unattended"--("I yawn while I'm attending--eh?" one gentleman in the rear suggested to his neighbor)--while on the other the ranks of mercenary labor are overcrowded. Why is it that while the peace and beauty, the security and comfort, of a good home, with easy labor and high pay, are open to every young woman, whose circ.u.mstances oblige her to toil for her living, she blindly refuses these true advantages and loses her health and too often what is far more precious!--in the din and tumult of the factory, or the dangerous exposure of the public counter."

Madam Weatherstone was much impressed at this point, and beat her black fan upon her black glove emphatically. Mrs. Thaddler also nodded; which meant a good deal from her. The applause was most gratifying to the speaker, who continued:

"Fortunately for the world there are some women yet who appreciate the true values of life." A faint blush crept slowly up the face of Diantha, but her expression was unchanged. Whoso had met and managed a roomful of merciless children can easily face a woman's club.