Great-aunt Charlotte, taking no part in the discussion, had eaten every morsel on her plate down to the last crumb of sage dressing. Now she looked up, blinking brightly at Charley. She put her question.
"Suppose, after you've tried it, with your education, and the time, and money you've spent on it, and all, you find you don't like it, Charley—then what? H'm? What then?"
"If I'm quite sure I don't like it I'll stop it and do something else," replied Charley.
Great-aunt Charlotte leaned back in her chair with a sigh of satisfaction. It was as though she found a vicarious relaxation and a sense of ease in Charley's freedom. She beamed upon the table. "It's a great age," she announced, "this century. If I'd died at seventy, as I planned, I'd be madder'n a hornet now to think of all I'd missed." She giggled a little falsetto note. "I've a good mind to step out and get a job myself."
"Don't be childish Charlotte!"—sister Carrie, of course.
Charley leaped to her defense. "I'd get one this minute if I were you, Aunt Charlotte, yes I would. If you feel like it. Look at mother! Always having massages and taking gentle walks in the park, and going to concerts, when there's the whole world to wallop."
Belle was not above a certain humourous argument. "I consider that I've walloped my world, Miss Kemp. I've married; I manage a household; I've produced a—a family."
"Gussie runs your household, and you know it. Being married to father isn't a career—it's a recreation. And as for having produced a family: one child isn't a family; it's a crime. I'm going to marry at twenty, have five children one right after the other——"
The inevitable "Charley!" from Mrs. Carrie Payson.
"—and handle my job besides. See if I don't."