"Mark my words, Cyrus," I said. "You'll be sorry you sent Peggy off to
a boys' school. Girls at her age are impressionable, and if they aren't
under their mothers' roofs, where they can be protected and sheltered,
why, then send them to a seminary where they will see as few young men
as possible."
Cyrus only laughed and said:
"Well, mother, you can say 'I told you so' if anything bad comes of it."
"It's all very well to laugh, Cyrus," I answered, "but _I_ don't
believe in putting difficulties into life that aren't there already,
and that's what sending young men and young women off to the same
college seems to ME!"
When Peggy came home engaged, after her last year, everybody was
surprised.
"I'm sure I don't know what Cyrus expected," I said to Ada. "You can't
go out in the rain without getting wet. Let us pray that this young man
will turn out to be all right, though we know so little about him." For
all we knew was what Peggy told us, and you know the kind of things
young girls have to tell one about their sweethearts. Peggy didn't even
know what church his people went to! I couldn't bear the thought of
that dear child setting out on the long journey of marriage in such a
fashion. I looked forward with fear to what Ada might have to go
through if it didn't turn out all right.
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