"But if there was, just what would you propose
to do, mother?"
"If you were three years younger I'd propose to spank you."
Then I think she saw that she was taking the wrong method, for
she changed her Tactics. "It's the fault of that Silly School,"
she said. (Note: These are my mother's words, not mine.) "They
are hotbeds of sickley sentamentality. They----"
And just then the violets came, addressed to me. Mother
opened them herself, her mouth set. "My love is like a white,
white rose," she said. "Barbara, do you know who sent these?"
"Yes, mother," I said meekly. This was quite true. I did.
I am indeed sorry to record that here my mother lost her
temper, and there was no end of a fuss. It ended by mother
offering me a string of seed pearls for Christmas, and my party
dresses cut V front and back, if I would, as she phrazed it,
"put him out of my silly head."
"I shall have to write one letter, mother," I said, "to--to
break things off. I cannot tear myself out of another's Life
without a word."
She sniffed.
"Very well," she said. "One letter. I trust you to make it
only one.
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