MRS. BECKER: "A what? That is a genteel expression for a young girl to apply to herself! That High School does you more harm than good."
"But, mamma, it's a term used in botany. A term from Darwin."
"Darwin! That's a fine thing to teach children in school—that they come from monkeys! No wonder children haven't any respect for their parents nowadays."
"Well, just the same it is in the biology. We're on frogs now. You ought to see the way frogs get born!"
"In my day children weren't taught such stuff. I'm surprised, Ben, it's allowed."
Across the biology of life, as if to shut out the loathsome facts of an abattoir, a curtain of dreadful portent was drawn before Lilly's clear eyes.
"When baby came," was Mrs. Becker's insinuation for the naked and impolite fact of birth.
In a vague, inchoate sort of way, Lilly at sixteen was visualizing nature procreant as an abominable woman creature standing shank deep in spongy swampland and from behind that portentous curtain moaning in the agonized key of Mrs. Kemble.
About this time Mrs. Kemble's third child was within a few weeks of birth.
"Mamma, what makes Mrs. Kemble look so funny!"