December 20th.
To-day we had the feast—and it was a feast. Dirty little ragamuffins!
Of course Mumsie was in attendance early. It was all one wild scramble, food, dirty imps, steam and struggle. I found it hard work and appreciated the reason why the feast was held so early, five days before Christmas. It was that we might get rest in time for our own festivities. I was disappointed that no stylish people came to help. Indeed, Mrs. Lien did turn up, also several other smart ladies, but they merely grinned, tossed their heads, and went away. Virtue is very dull—there is no question of that.
I have made up my mind about one thing. I’m going to get into society. It’s the spirit of the age. So why not? I’ll be in the fashion so soon, and far, as I can. I’m sure that Uncle’s ideas are old-fashioned. Of course I love Uncle and all that, but I know he’s wrong. I’ve used my eyes. I’m sure of it. Times change, fashions change, customs change, don’t they? And, people change, nations change, everything changes. The young are as likely to be right as the old, for they can’t be rid of their old opinions. How nice it must be to go every place and to everything, and to have one’s name always figuring prominently in the notices—like Georgie Cochrane, and Mabel Lien, and Doris Mount.
I know now why I am writing this diary! It’s partly practice, that some day I may write something good and make a name for myself. It is also to record my passing impressions of the society doings I am going to enjoy. For after I get back home again to the country, I’ll have plenty of time and it will be dull if I don’t employ myself. To-day in town I heard one girl say to a friend: “Good-bye—good luck. Be good and you’ll be happy—but you’ll have a mighty slow time.” Now I wonder!
And I have a right to a place in society. My grandfather was an army officer. So even Uncle could not call me a “social climber.” I only wish to see real life and get some enjoyment. The thing to do is to make friends among those who have aspirations and aims similar to mine—true friends, good friends. I wonder if Grandfather had any more joy in being honourable and upright than “old man” Lien, who lent to and ruined unfortunate farmers, and other incapable persons. Of course, old Lien had no friends outside his own class, but then Grandfather’s friends borrowed money from him and never returned it,—and drank his port wine. So I wonder which got the greater joy from life.
No doubt Grandfather would have despised old Lien, while Lien would have pitied Grandfather. There is no doubt that Mabel Lien has had a better time than I. And I can quite conceive that old Lien’s joy in his wide, rich lands was greater than Grandfather’s could be in being comparatively poor, however respectable. Yes, Uncle doesn’t know everything, and I’m not such a little girl as he thinks.
December 21st.
Nothing doing.
December 22nd.