DIARY--TRANSFORMATION
_December 15._
A FEW days can make a difference in one's life. I'm well on the way of
being a real butterfly. I have bought new dresses, a real evening gown
and a lovely silk dress to wear to the Bridge Club. It's lucky I saved
my money these three months and had a nice surplus to buy these new
things.
Royal is teaching me to play cards. He says I take to them like a duck
to water. Virginia and he are giving me dancing lessons. I love to
dance! The same spirit that prompted me to skip when I wore sunbonnets
is now urging me on to the dance. In a few weeks I'll be ready to join
in the pleasures of my new friends. After the Christmas holidays the
city will be gay until the Lenten season.
_January 5._
I went home for Christmas and I suppose I managed to make everybody
there unhappy and worried. I couldn't let them think I am the same quiet
girl and not tell them about the cards and dancing. Daddy was hurt, but
he didn't scold me. He said plainly that he does not approve of my
course, that he thinks cards and dancing wicked. He added that I had
been taught the difference between right and wrong and was old enough to
see it. Perhaps he thinks I'll "run my horns off quicker" if I'm let go,
as Aunt Maria often says about people. But she didn't say that about me.
She made up for what daddy didn't say. She begged him to make me stay at
home away from the wicked influences of the city. I had the hardest time
to keep calm and not say mean things to her. She's ashamed of me and
afraid people up there will find out how worldly I am. I had to tell
Mother Bab too. I know I hurt her. She was so gentle and lovely about it
that I felt half inclined to tell her I'd give up everything she didn't
approve of, just to please her. But I didn't. I couldn't do that when I
know I'm not doing anything wrong. She changed the subject and inquired
about my music. In that I was able to please her. She shared my joy when
I told her of my critical music master's approval of my progress. I sang
some of my new songs for her and she kissed me with the same love and
tenderness she has always had for me. I wonder sometimes whether I could
possibly have loved my own mother more. Somehow, as I sat with her in
her dear, cozy sitting-room I hated the cards and the dancing and half
wished I had never left the farm. But that's a narrow, provincial view
to take. Now that I'm back again I'm caught once more in the whirl.
Everybody is entertaining, as if in a frantic endeavor to be surfeited
before Lent and thus be able to endure the dullness of that period of
suspended social activities. The harrowing tales of suffering France
and Belgium have occasioned Benefit Teas and Benefit Bridges and
Benefit Dances, all for the aid of the war sufferers. Royal usually
takes me to the social affairs. I enjoy being with him. He's the most
entertaining man I ever met. He has traveled in Europe and all over our
own country and can tell what he has seen. He attracts attention,
whether he speaks or plays or is just silent. One day he said it would
be a pleasure to travel with me, I enjoy things so and can appreciate
their beauty. I could scarcely resist telling him how I'd enjoy
traveling with a man like him. Oh, I dream wild dreams sometimes, but I
really must stop doing that. The present is too wonderful to go
borrowing joy from the future.
_February 2._
I'm all in a fluster. I have to write here what happened to-day. If I
had a mother she could help and advise me but an adopted mother, even
one as dear and near as Mother Bab, won't do for such confidences.
Royal and I were sitting alone before the open fireplace. It's a
dangerous place to be! The glowing fire sends such weird shadows
flickering up and down. Its living fire is sometimes an entreating Circe
waking undesirable impulses, then again it's a spirit that heals and
inspires. I love an open fire but to-day I should have fled from it and
yet--I think I'm glad I didn't.
I looked up suddenly from the gleaming logs--right into the eyes of
Royal. His voice startled me as he said, with the strangest catch in his
voice, that my eyes are bluer than the skies. I tried to keep my voice
ordinary as I lightly told him that some other person once told me they
are the color of fringed gentians--could he improve on that?
"You little fairy!" he cried. "I can beat that! They are blue as
bluebirds!" Then he went on impetuously, telling me I was a real
bluebird of happiness, a bringer of joy; that the ancients called the
bluebird the emblem of happiness, but he knew the blue of my eyes was
the real joy sign--or something like that he said. It startled me. I
tried to tell him he must not talk like that but my words were useless.
He went on to say that the world was bleak and unlovely till I came to
Philadelphia and wouldn't I tell him I care for him.
Of course I value his friendship and told him so. But he laughed and
said I was a wise little girl but I couldn't evade his question like
that. He said frankly he doesn't want my friendship, he wants my love,
he must have it!
I felt like a helpless bird. I couldn't answer him. He looked at me, a
long, searching look. Then he pressed his thin lips together, and a
moment later, threw back his head and laughed his low laugh.
"Little bluebird," he said softly, "I have frightened you and I wouldn't
do that for worlds! We'll talk it over some other time, after you have
had time to think about it. Shall I play for you?"
I nodded and he began to play. But the music didn't soothe me as it
usually does. There were too many confused thoughts in my brain. Did
Royal really love me? I looked at his white hands with the long
tapering nails and the shapely fingers and couldn't help thinking of the
strong, tanned hands of David Eby. I glanced at the handsome face of the
musician with its magnetic charm--swiftly the countenance of my old
playmate rose before me and then slowly faded: David, boyish and
comradely; David, manly and strong, without ever a sneer or an unholy
light upon his face. Could I ever forget him? Could I ever look into the
face of any other man and call it the dearest in the whole world to me?
Ach--I shook my head and gathered my recreant wits together! I'd forget
what he said and attribute it to the weird influence of the firelight.
I was glad Virginia came before Royal finished playing. She looked at us
keenly. I suppose my face was flushed. But Royal seldom loses his
outward calm. He answered her remarks in his casual way and listened
with seeming interest to her plans for a pre-Lenten masquerade dance she
wants to give. She has asked me to go dressed in a plain dress and white
cap like Aunt Maria wears. I hesitated about it but she has done so much
for me that I hate to refuse. So I've promised to go to the dance
dressed in a plain dress and cap.
A little later when Royal left us alone Virginia began to speak about
him. She said she's so glad we have grown to be friends, in spite of the
fact that he is so much older than I am. He's thirty-seven, she told me.
I'm surprised at that. I never thought he's so much older. She mentioned
something, too, about his being rather a gay Don Juan. I don't know
just what she means. I'm sure he's a gentleman. Perhaps she expected me
to tell her what Royal said to me, but how could I do that when I think
it was just an impulsive burst that he's likely to forget by morning. If
he really meant it--but I must stop dreaming all sorts of improbable
dreams! I've had such a glorious time in Philadelphia just living and
singing and working and playing that I wish it hadn't happened. I'm
frightened when I think that any serious questions might confront me
here.
_February 10._
I guessed right when I thought that Royal would forget that foolish
outburst. He has been perfectly lovely to me, taking me out and buying
me flowers and telling me about his trips, but he hasn't said one word
more of sentimental nature. I'm surely getting my share of fun and
pleasure these days. There are so many things to enjoy, so much to learn
from my fellow-boarders and every one I meet, that the days are all too
short. Between times I'm making a dress and cap for the masquerade
dance. I hate sewing. I lost all love for it during my years of calico
patching. But I don't mind making the dress for I'm eager for the dance,
my first masquerade party. I'm hoping for a good time.