“Dear Ella:
As you are camping where rain and dirt will spoil a good book I bought a lot from a 10-cent store and from a second-hand shop downtown. It won’t hurt if these do get wet, so don’t worry over them. I tried to buy your favourite authors—Lila Jane Lilly is one, isn’t she? And the Dutchie another. If the other girls want to read them, be generous and let them,“
—— Lovingly, Mother.”
“Humph! I should say a thorough soaking of rain would improve these books vastly,” remarked the Guide as she gingerly turned the pages of the first few removed from the box. “In fact, if we could soak them back to pulp again and forever wash away the effects of the text, what a benefaction the world would have!”
“Are you jesting, Miss Miller?” wondered Eleanor.
“Jesting! At such criminal thoughts as these stories implant in the minds of adolescent girls and boys? Why, the woman who made such a fortune out of gullible young things ought to be condemned to purgatory—only we know there isn’t such a place!” fumed the Guide, righteously indignant.
“I’ve read most of her books and I never saw anything bad. They were grand—and full of wonderful romance!” defended Eleanor.
“If the ‘bad’ was exposed your mother wouldn’t have had you read them, and your appetite would have been improved. But so subtle is the viciousness of such stuff that you now don’t want to read a sweet wholesome story like ‘Pollyanna’ or similar girls’ books. Do you suppose a mortal with a craving for liquor or tobacco is satisfied with cold water or home-made bread? So it is with a perverted appetite for sex stories and thrills—you won’t content yourself with uplifting literature but demand more and more of the degrading kind!”
“But these books are not sex stuff!” cried Eleanor.
“Just as bad. And their influence is the same as that created by drink or dope.”
As the Guide spoke she looked through the remainder of the collection and sighed as she thought of the density of some parents. “Saving a few pence for fine clothing, and economising on reading for their children! Clothing the exterior with ‘fine feathers,’ and feeding the mind with swill! Considering money wasted on good reasonably priced books and squandering wholesale, the spiritual, moral, mental and physical fibre of their children! Never sparing a thought as to the ultimate effects of trashy books and ignoring the outcome of deteriorating sensations in the young because they are so anxious to add to a savings account for the future! Just as long as the book—white or yellow—(mattered not) kept the reader occupied and quiet for a time, that the mother might finish the extra frill on the schooldress or party costume.”
As Miss Miller concluded her excited vituperation on the prevalent disease of contagious novels, Eleanor was too angry to reply. Finally, however, she managed to say: