Once there was a Girl with a gleaming New Hampshire Forehead who used
to exchange helpful Books with a studious young Man who had an
Intellect of high Voltage.
It will not be necessary to name these Gazooks, as you never heard of
them.
Laura and Edgar were Comrades, in a way. They met under the Student
Lamp and talked about Schopenhauer and Walter Pater, but the Affair
never got beyond that Point. It was not even warm enough to be called
Platonic. It carried about as much Romantic Suggestion as a cold Hot
Water Bag.
There grew up between them merely a Fellowship of the Super-Mind, or
what a Wimp wearing Tortoise-Shell Spectacles would call Cosmahogany.
Having cleared away the Underbrush, we will now proceed with the
Narrative.
Like every other Member of the Tribe of Mansard Mentalities, they
regarded with much Contempt the School of Popular Fiction.
Do you think they would stand for any of that old-style Guff about
Sir Ralph getting the Hammer-Lock on Dorothy just outside the Loggia?
Not on your Thought Waves!
They regarded the Article commonly called Love as a lingering Symptom
of some primeval Longing for Parlor Entertainment.
It was agreed that each Soul was free and independent, and had a right
to run on its own private Time-Table.
Laura said she was going to live her Life in her own Way and that no
Wallopus in striped Trousers could leave her marooned in a Flat,
working under Sealed Orders.
Edgar did not choose to carry Overweight while working out his Career
and grew faint at the very Thought of shouldering a lot of Domestic
Responsibilities.
Marriage was an institution devised for Strap-Hangers who wanted to get
their Names into the Paper.
It was a childish Refuge for those who lacked Courage to forsake the
beaten Paths and strike out for the High Spots.
It will be seen that they were somewhat Advanced. As far back as 1890
they were living in the 21st Century.
Laura went in for Club Work and Cold Baths and Card-Indexing.
She felt sorry for the Married Women. They were always fussed up over
getting a Laundress or telling about new cases of Scarlet Rash or else
'phoning the Office to make sure that the Bread-Winner was at the Desk
and behaving himself.
When she let down her Hair at Night she did not have to do any checking
up or put the bottle of Squills on the Radiator.
She was Free and Happy. A little lonesome on Rainy Days, but the
freest thing you ever saw and she had her Books.
Edgar looked about him and saw the Slaves of Matrimony watching the
Clock and getting ready to duck at 11 P. M. and rejoiced inwardly.
He could land in at his little Independence Hall at 4 G. M., and turn
on all the Lights and drape his Wardrobe over the Rugs and light
Cigarettes and there was not a Voice to break the celestial Stillness.
He figured that Children must be an awful Worry.
He brooded over the Kid Proposition so much that soon after he was 30
years of Age he used to go around and borrow his Nephews and Nieces and
take them to the Circus and buy expensive Presents for them and upset
the Household Rules.
Occasionally he would take a new Book dealing with the Higher Things of
Life up to his old friend Laura and he would find her feeding the
Birds, with the Cat asleep in the Corner and an imported Dog with many
Curls pre-empting the principal Chair.
They would discuss Prison Reform and Kipling and other Subjects in no
way related to the awakening of the Maternal Instinct.
When he owned up to 40 and she had stopped talking about it, the
Reading Habit was no longer a Novelty with him, so merely to kill Time,
he was acting on the Visiting Board of an Orphan Asylum and was a
Director of the Fresh Air Fund and was putting the Office Boy through
a Business College.
About the same time Laura was made the victim of a Conspiracy.
A designing Day Laborer and his Wife deliberately up and died, leaving
a Chick of a Daughter, all helpless and alone.
Laura simply had to go over and grab the Young One and play Mother to
her, because it all happened hardly a Mile from her own Door-Step.
She had been dodging these commonplace and old-fashioned
Responsibilities all her Life and now cruel Circumstances compelled her
to spend Hours in servile Attentions to a stray Specimen.
Of course, she had the Expert Advice of her old friend Edgar, who made
out the Adoption Papers and sent a lot of Merchandise up to the House,
out of the promptings of a broad and general sentiment of Pity for the
Unfortunate.
Even when they stood up to be Married they were still stringing
themselves.
He was bald and grizzled and she was a little droopy around the
Shoulders and had not been able to massage away the more important
Wrinkles.
They scouted the Suggestion that it was a Love Match.
It seemed that she needed a Night Watchman and he was afraid to be
alone in the Dark with the Memories of the Past.
MORAL: After you pass 40 you must take charge of something Human,
even if it is only a Chauffeur.