Electric dish-washer,
clothes-washer, vacuum-cleaner, and the near-by delicatessen and the
caterer simply rob a young wife of her housewifely heritage. If she has a
baby--which happens occasionally, Carley, in spite of your assertion--it
very soon goes to the kindergarten. Then what does she find to do with
hours and hours? If she is not married, what on earth can she find to do?"
"She can work," replied Carley, bluntly.
"Oh yes, she can, but she doesn't," went on Eleanor. "You don't work. I
never did. We both hated the idea. You're calling spades spades, Carley,
but you seem to be riding a morbid, impractical thesis. Well, our young
American girl or bride goes in for being rushed or she goes in for fads,
the ultra stuff you mentioned. New York City gets all the great artists,
lecturers, and surely the great fakirs. The New York women support them.
The men laugh, but they furnish the money. They take the women to the
theaters, but they cut out the reception to a Polish princess, a lecture by
an Indian magician and mystic, or a benefit luncheon for a Home for
Friendless Cats. The truth is most of our young girls or brides have a
wonderful enthusiasm worthy of a better cause. What is to become of their
surplus energy, the bottled-lightning spirit so characteristic of modern
girls? Where is the outlet for intense feelings? What use can they make of
education or of gifts? They just can't, that's all.
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