“I don’t know a thing,—not a single blessed thing. And if you won’t tell any one—if you will let this be an awful secret between you and me, a compact to end only with death,—I’ll confide to you that I don’t care! I’m very, very wicked, Cousin Olive. I always want to do things I’m told not to. When my dear charming father—he’s perfectly dear and lovely—talks to me about politics and tells me that the Republicans stand for the holy principles on which this glorious republic was founded, I decide at once that I’m a Democrat. George Washington must have been an awful bore. If the English weren’t the dullest and stupidest people in the world they would have whipped him out of his boots. Now, don’t you see what an impossible person I am? My father’s the kindest, best man in the world,—he’s always so thoughtful,—always doing things for me, and yet sometimes his very goodness makes this same kind of wickedness rise up in me! Some day, some day, Cousin Olive, I’m going to be good myself; but just now goodness,—goodness makes me very tired. And now,” she went on with a change of manner and waiting for no comment from her intent and puzzled listener, “would you mind telling me how you get white woodwork like this? Do you have to get the plumber or whatever-his-name-is to do that?”
“The way I did that,” said Olive, “was to take twenty-five cents down to a shop where they sell paint all ready for the feminine hand to apply, and buy a can of it and do the painting myself. It’s rather fun.”
“Perfectly delicious! My room is all black walnut, and I loathe it. And things like these,” she indicated the curtains,—“how do you find them?”
“I’ll tell you my system, but it won’t appeal to you. I go to the cheapest shop in town, where no carriages ever stop at the front door, and where the women go in with their market baskets. I ask to see the cheapest chintz they have; and then I pick out the least ugly stuff in the bunch and carry it home.”
“Tremendous! It isn’t polite at all for me to be asking; but Aunt Julia is as ignorant as I am. She sends her maid to do her shopping.”
“That’s real luxury.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s no fun at all. You can’t imagine what it means to me to learn a little about how human beings live. Ever since I grew up I’ve lived on the outside of things, and I’m tired of it.”
“You ought to be very happy,” said Olive.
“That’s what I detest about things,—the oughts. That’s why the oughtn’ts seem so attractive. But you won’t mind, will you, all this queer rigmarole of mine? Please don’t tell your mother,—I want her to like me, too, and she never could if she knew what wild ideas I have.”
“We like you very much, Cousin Zelda,” said Olive, gravely. She rose from her seat and crossed to where Zelda stood and put her hands on her cousin’s shoulders. Zelda seemed to look down on Olive from an ampler ether; but her little kinswoman offered anchorage and security. She brushed the soft light hair from Olive’s brow caressingly and bent and kissed her.