“Well, that may be true,” he said, “but the poor old human race has survived their ignorance a mighty long time.”
The laughter at this retort was scattering and tempered by the obvious fact that Mrs. Trenton was not wholly pleased by it.
Jimmie Atwood was hoping that there would be a row. A row among high-brows would be something to talk about when he went to the University Club the next day for lunch and an afternoon of sniff.
“The idea is, I take it,” he said with his funny squeak, “that there would be no aunts or in-laws; just plain absolute freedom for everybody. Large marble orphan asylums all over the country. Spanking machines and everything scientific!”
“You’ve got exactly the right idea,” cried Mrs. Trenton.
“Clubs for women and clubs for men; everybody would live in a club. That would be jolly!” Atwood continued, delighted that he had gained the attention of the guest of honor.
“Has anybody here,” began Grayling, “ever watched a bunch of college boys listening to a phonograph record of Patti singing ‘Home, Sweet Home?’ Well, I have and you could cut the gloom with a knife. Home is still sweet to most of us.”
“I’d be awfully sorry to miss the weddings we have at the parsonage,” said Mrs. Ridgely;—“trusting young souls who pop in at all hours to be married. They’re all sure they’re going to live happy forever after. Miss Durland, it’s your generation that’s got to solve the problem. Maybe you have the answer.”
“Oh, I think weddings are beautiful!” Grace answered, feeling the eyes of the company upon her. The girlish ardor she threw into her words won her a laugh of sympathy.
“Don’t let them intimidate you,” said Mrs. Trenton with an indulgent smile. “Miss Reynolds has been telling me that you’re a University girl and you ought to be sound on the great questions if Professor Grayling hasn’t spoiled you!”