“Grandmother! Blackmail! What is it?”
“You must wear mourning for me. I’m told it’s more or less out of date, but I believe in the decencies of life. You say neither you nor your mother approved of mourning, but that has nothing to do with me. You will do as I ask, I suppose?”
“Of course.” Gita was in a mood to promise anything.
“Well, that’s one point gained! And six months will be enough. I’m only your grandmother. But after that you are to dress not only like a girl, but a fashionable girl; you’ll give those ridiculous suits to the servants.”
“But all the girls wear tailored suits—and as for sport——”
“Like yours? No furbishing up?”
“Oh, they wear scarves and bright hats—other things, I suppose. I’ve hardly noticed.”
“But you have noticed they indulge in every feminine vanity, even if they’ve cut off the hair that Nature meant to be woman’s chief adornment and have neither the full busts nor the swelling hips that once made a beautiful woman’s ‘figger,’ as we called it. And the tiny waists!”
“They must have looked horrid,” said Gita sincerely.
“Not at all. Quite the contrary. I wonder men are ever attracted to women these days. Nature intended women to have figures entirely different from men. Else why didn’t she make them on the same plan and save them the trouble of starving themselves? Answer me that!” said the old lady triumphantly. “A girl in my day, my daughters’ day, had no chance if she looked like a lath. She padded. And these young ninnies of today may have a certain style but not a particle of elegance. No wonder they wear little straight frocks. It takes a figger to show off elegant gowns. What in the world started such a fashion?” she asked querulously. “Do you mean to tell me men admire girls that look like boys?”