“They take care of the home—and the children.”
“At the same time?” asked Ellador.
“Why yes. The children play about, and the mother has charge of it all. There are servants, of course.”
It seemed so obvious, so natural to Terry, that he always grew impatient; but the girls were honestly anxious to understand.
“How many children do your women have?” Alima had her notebook out now, and a rather firm set of lip. Terry began to dodge.
“There is no set number, my dear,” he explained. “Some have more, some have less.”
“Some have none at all,” I put in mischievously.
They pounced on this admission and soon wrung from us the general fact that those women who had the most children had the least servants, and those who had the most servants had the least children.
“There!” triumphed Alima. “One or two or no children, and three or four servants. Now what do those women do?”
We explained as best we might. We talked of “social duties,” disingenuously banking on their not interpreting the words as we did; we talked of hospitality, entertainment, and various “interests.” All the time we knew that to these large-minded women whose whole mental outlook was so collective, the limitations of a wholly personal life were inconceivable.