memory of
so many dear girls, a thousand blushing apparitions, who would
later go on to make their mark in the world, whether in the cause
of society, Stopesism, or the suffragettes: a group of languorous
girls, sitting cross-legged with hockey sticks, staring into the
middle distance with eyes pale as air and jelly-soft cheeks; one
dear thing, oversized, rolling a hoop somewhere; two husky tsarinas
posed humorlessly on the old athletic field pointing in mid-turn to
a third with a faint mustache and a bewildered expression
mis-gripping a croquet mallet, one high-buttoned shoe poised on a
small striped ball; a marvelous wide-angle shot, none the worse for
time, of forty or so students in bombazine—Quinsy girls
all!—trooping like mallards in pious, if pointless, gyrovagation
along the path of a field called now, as then, “The Reproaches”;
and many many others. ( Miss Pouce had secretly boxed three of the
lot, offensive ones which she kept down with the discards in the
basement: one, a girl in a droopy bag swimsuit à la Gertrude Ederle
pitching off a diving board, certain of her parts having been
circled in neurotoxified purple ink by some poor twisted Gomorrhite
years ago; and two others, shamelessly thumbed, showing ( 1 ) three
girls in chemistry lab smirking into the camera while they held up
a guttapercha object of unambiguous size and shape and (2) the same
girls but one—and she, in the distance, screaming with laughter,
and the object gone.) Smethwick was open until 10 P.M. It would be
9 P.M. on Saturdays, the rare-book room, of course, by appointment
only. Miss Pouce would be ever so pleased if you came by. Had no
one such time for things anymore?
That was a fair question, for if Quinsyburg had a
wealth of anything it was certainly time, and, beyond that—as the
handbook so sagely put it—didn’t sloth, like rust, consume faster
than labor wears, with the key that’s often used remaining always
bright?
The girls in that little gradus, if they paid
attention, had their rules for life. The most trifling actions,
they were reminded, if good, increased their credit but if bad
became a matter, when done, no apology could rectify. They were not
to fork for bread, dry their underpinnings by the fire, leave
lip-prints on drinking glasses, touch the teeth with the tines of a
fork, use rampant witticism, stipple the shower stalls, nor effect
shadowgraphs with the fingers at the Saturday movie, neither were
they ever to thrust out the tongue, sigh aloud, gape, swap
underwear, eat fish with the knife, use French words as that is apt
to grow fatiguing, nor cultivate mimicry which was the favorite
amusement of little minds. They must never strike out wantonly nor
snip their nails in public, neither hawk, spit, sniff, crack fleas
nor drum their fingers. They were asked not to jerk their hair out
of their eyes nor sip audibly nor effect the branch of a tree for
walking purposes nor indicate assent or dissent by motions of the
head, as was the wont of Northern girls. Neither must they spit on
their irons, crunch on cracknels, use primroses for floral
decoration, say rude things like “Stir your stumps!” or
“Tarnation!” or mutter anything whatsoever disrespectful about the
universe. In sharply turning a corner, coming suddenly in contact
with another, they had already abused a right. They were not to
whistle, toast cheese in their rooms, make memorandum knots in
their handkerchiefs, wangle their fingers during conversation, or
indulge in parades of learning, for they would surely live to see
verified that a woman who is negligent at twenty will be a sloven
at forty, intolerable at fifty, and at sixty a hopeless mental
case. To flee affectation and to be circumspect that she offend no
gentleman caller in her jesting and taunting, to appear thereby of
a ready wit, was, above all, paramount.
There was, of course, this business of young men, a
matter nearest their hearts because most agreeable to
so many dear girls, a thousand blushing apparitions, who would
later go on to make their mark in the world, whether in the cause
of society, Stopesism, or the suffragettes: a group of languorous
girls, sitting cross-legged with hockey sticks, staring into the
middle distance with eyes pale as air and jelly-soft cheeks; one
dear thing, oversized, rolling a hoop somewhere; two husky tsarinas
posed humorlessly on the old athletic field pointing in mid-turn to
a third with a faint mustache and a bewildered expression
mis-gripping a croquet mallet, one high-buttoned shoe poised on a
small striped ball; a marvelous wide-angle shot, none the worse for
time, of forty or so students in bombazine—Quinsy girls
all!—trooping like mallards in pious, if pointless, gyrovagation
along the path of a field called now, as then, “The Reproaches”;
and many many others. ( Miss Pouce had secretly boxed three of the
lot, offensive ones which she kept down with the discards in the
basement: one, a girl in a droopy bag swimsuit à la Gertrude Ederle
pitching off a diving board, certain of her parts having been
circled in neurotoxified purple ink by some poor twisted Gomorrhite
years ago; and two others, shamelessly thumbed, showing ( 1 ) three
girls in chemistry lab smirking into the camera while they held up
a guttapercha object of unambiguous size and shape and (2) the same
girls but one—and she, in the distance, screaming with laughter,
and the object gone.) Smethwick was open until 10 P.M. It would be
9 P.M. on Saturdays, the rare-book room, of course, by appointment
only. Miss Pouce would be ever so pleased if you came by. Had no
one such time for things anymore?
That was a fair question, for if Quinsyburg had a
wealth of anything it was certainly time, and, beyond that—as the
handbook so sagely put it—didn’t sloth, like rust, consume faster
than labor wears, with the key that’s often used remaining always
bright?
The girls in that little gradus, if they paid
attention, had their rules for life. The most trifling actions,
they were reminded, if good, increased their credit but if bad
became a matter, when done, no apology could rectify. They were not
to fork for bread, dry their underpinnings by the fire, leave
lip-prints on drinking glasses, touch the teeth with the tines of a
fork, use rampant witticism, stipple the shower stalls, nor effect
shadowgraphs with the fingers at the Saturday movie, neither were
they ever to thrust out the tongue, sigh aloud, gape, swap
underwear, eat fish with the knife, use French words as that is apt
to grow fatiguing, nor cultivate mimicry which was the favorite
amusement of little minds. They must never strike out wantonly nor
snip their nails in public, neither hawk, spit, sniff, crack fleas
nor drum their fingers. They were asked not to jerk their hair out
of their eyes nor sip audibly nor effect the branch of a tree for
walking purposes nor indicate assent or dissent by motions of the
head, as was the wont of Northern girls. Neither must they spit on
their irons, crunch on cracknels, use primroses for floral
decoration, say rude things like “Stir your stumps!” or
“Tarnation!” or mutter anything whatsoever disrespectful about the
universe. In sharply turning a corner, coming suddenly in contact
with another, they had already abused a right. They were not to
whistle, toast cheese in their rooms, make memorandum knots in
their handkerchiefs, wangle their fingers during conversation, or
indulge in parades of learning, for they would surely live to see
verified that a woman who is negligent at twenty will be a sloven
at forty, intolerable at fifty, and at sixty a hopeless mental
case. To flee affectation and to be circumspect that she offend no
gentleman caller in her jesting and taunting, to appear thereby of
a ready wit, was, above all, paramount.
There was, of course, this business of young men, a
matter nearest their hearts because most agreeable to
Similar Books
