And
through everything else they hark back to that everlasting, "If you'd
only exert your influence, Lorraine dear, to make Charles Edward take
more interest in the business--his father thinks so much of that."
If I were to tell them that Charles Edward perfectly detests the
business, and will NEVER be interested in it and never make anything
out of it, they'd all go straight off the handle; yet they all know it
just as well as I do. That's the trouble--you simply can't tell them
the truth about anything; they don't want to hear it. I never talk at
all any more when I go over to the big house, for I can't seem to
without horrifying somebody.
I thought I should die when I first came here; it was so different from
the way it is at home, where you can say or do anything you please
without caring what anybody thinks. Dad has always believed in not
restricting individuality, and that girls have just as much right to
live their own lives as boys--which is a fortunate thing, for, counting
Momsey, there are four of us.
We never had any system about anything at home, thank goodness! We just
had atmosphere. Dad was an artist, you know, and he does paint such
lovely pictures; but he gave it up as a profession when we were little,
and went into business, because, he said, he couldn't let his family
starve--and we all think it was so perfectly noble of him! I couldn't
give up being an artist for anybody, no matter WHO starved, and Peter
feels that way, too.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92