I do not know of a more sorrowful spectacle than that of a girl who is
loud in her dress, loud in her manners, and loud in her speech. It is a
great mistake for a girl to suppose that this loudness will be mistaken
by her friends and acquaintances for smartness. The desire to be
regarded as bright and witty has led many a girl into the folly of being
loud in her manners. She often cherishes the illusion that the attention
such manners attract is combined with admiration, when the truth is that
those who witness her strange conduct are simply wondering how it is
possible for her to throw to the winds that charm of all
girlhood--modesty.
[Illustration: BLAB-MOUTHED AND NOISY.]
One afternoon not long ago I saw a group of girls of the loud type. They
came into the street car in which I was sitting. They all wore boys’
hats. One wore a vivid red jacket with brass buttons, and another had on
a brass belt. A third one had on a most conspicuous plaid skirt. This
third one had a box of bonbons, and when the three were seated she
opened the box and offered it to her companions, saying as she did so,
in a voice loud enough and shrill enough to be heard in every part of
the car:
[Illustration: MODEST AND QUIET.]
“It’s my treat; have some, chums!”
Upon this invitation one of the girls dived down into the box like a
hungry bear, and held up a piece of the candy in triumph and then dashed
it into her mouth with a great guffaw. “O, Mame!” said one of the girls,
“if you ain’t just horrid to go and take the very piece I wanted!”
“Mame” laughed and, taking the candy from her mouth, offered it to the
other girl, saying as she did so:
“Well, here it is, Lulu!”
“Lulu” struck the candy from “Mame’s” hand, and it flew across the aisle
into the lap of a lady sitting opposite the girls. This set all three of
the girls to giggling and tittering, and they seemed in danger of
convulsions when the owner of the box of candy let it fall and a part of
the candy rolled out on the floor.
The conductor came forward and picked up the box and candy and handed
them to the owner. She giggled out her thanks, and “Lulu” said: “Why
didn’t you give him a gumdrop for his trouble?”
This seemed to impress the other girls as a most brilliant witticism,
and they fell to tittering violently over it.
Presently a gentleman came in and stumbled slightly over the feet of one
of the girls thrust out into the aisle.
“I beg your pardon,” said the gentleman, as he lifted his hat, whereupon
the three girls grinned and giggled and giggled and grinned
immoderately, and one of them said:
“Roxy, you had better ride out on the platform, where there is more room
for your feet!”
“Roxy” then struck “Lulu” for making this speech. “Lulu” pretended to be
much offended and flung herself over to the other side of the car, where
she made a grimace at the other girls.
The conduct of these girls during the half hour that they were on the
car was such as caused every father and mother who saw them to regard
them with pity. The loud girl, my dear readers, is always an object of
pity. She should be a sorry object for her own contemplation. An old
writer has said: “You little know what you have done when you have first
broken the bounds of modesty; you have set open the door of your fancy
to the devil, so that he can represent the same sinful pleasure to you
anew.”
Now, the loud girl may be entirely innocent of any actual wrong-doing,
but she is regarded with dislike, distrust, and even disdain, by the
better class of people. She acquires a reputation for rudeness and
coarseness, and the people of refinement will not associate with her.
Her character suffers, no matter how innocent she may be of any
intention of doing wrong. Delicacy, modesty, is the certain sign of
sweetness, purity and gentleness of character, just as indelicacy is the
certain sign of a lack of these beautiful traits.