The Graduate.
[THE PUDDING STICK.]
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
I was finishing my last talk to you, when who should walk in but one of the very mothers about whom I was writing. She is a darling, this old schoolmate and friend of mine, but she is just now rather depressed in her mind, and a good deal out of health, and this makes her fussy and fidgety. She was very much interested in the talk about chaperonage, and declared that she never allowed her Elsie, or her Jack or Dick either, to go anywhere unaccompanied by an older person. "The boys agree with me," she said, "that they have a better time when Cousin Molly goes along than they possibly could have without her. As for me," she sighed, "I am getting to be so nervous and melancholy that I am a kill-joy, and I stay in my room even when we have guests at home."
In there came, with rosy cheeks and flying ribbons and the prettiest eyes in the room, my friend's daughter Katharine. "Now," said Katharine—and as she spoke the spring sunshine and the spring fragrance seemed to fill the room, needing not the great bunch of daffodils she laid upon my lap to give me a realization that spring was really here—"I've planned everything; papa has given me the money, and you, dear auntie, must flourish your pudding stick over mamma's head till she consents to go away for a trip. Mamma needs a change. We girls are giving up our new spring gowns, and making our old ones over, for this has been a bad year in business, in papa's line at least, and we must economize. Our gift is to fit the dear lady out becomingly. The rest of the money will pay for her tickets, and we want her to go to Cousin Kitty's, away off in Vermont, and be a girl again." Katharine poured this out in a torrent, hardly pausing for breath. Her color came and went; she was earnest and eloquent. I listened, and softly clapped my hands.
I looked at the elder Katharine. Mamma's eyes were shining. There was a far-away look in them, as of one who was remembering pleasant times and scenes. "To be a girl again!" she whispered.
"You will go, won't you, dear?" I asked, anxiously.
She hesitated a second, and then said, "Yes, if you all wish it so very much, I will take a vacation, and perhaps I'll come back very much more like myself. I owe something to daughters who are so dear and loving, and I am tired."
We didn't dwell on the subject any longer then. On the contrary, we spoke of Katharine's hat, and of the pretty and sensible fashion girls have adopted of removing their hats in public places, where the great plumed things are in the way of people's eyes. It is so easy to take off one's hat and hold it, and the girls' bright heads look so homelike and attractive that one is very glad for the march which common sense and good manners have made side by side.