“No,” cried Mrs. Blodgett, “they get to know too little! While they ought to be out in the world studying life and men, so as to choose wisely, they’re shut up in dormitories filling their brains with Greek and mathematics.”
“You would limit a woman’s arithmetic to the solution of how to make one and one, one?” I asked, smiling.
“Surely, Mrs. Blodgett, you do not mean that an uncultivated woman makes the best wife?” inquired Mr. Whitely.
“I mean,” rejoined Mrs. Blodgett, “that women who know much of books know little of men. That’s why over-intellectual women always marry fools.”
“How many intellectual wives there must be!” you said.
“I shouldn’t mind if they only married fools,” continued Mrs. Blodgett, “but half the time they don’t marry at all.”
“Does that prove or disprove their intellect?” you asked.
“It means,” replied Mrs. Blodgett, “that they are so puffed up with their imaginary knowledge that they think no man good enough for them.”
“I’ve known one or two college boys graduate with the same large ideas,” remarked Mr. Blodgett.
“But a man gets over it after a few years,” urged Mrs. Blodgett, “and is none the worse off; but by the time a girl overcomes the idea, she’s so old that no man worth having will look at her.”