Almost a Woman Part 1

Almost a Woman.

by Mary Wood-Allen.

PRELUDE.

Mr. Wayne, glancing out of the window, saw some one pa.s.sing down the front steps. Suddenly a look of recognition came into his face, and he turned to his wife with the exclamation, "I declare, Mary, our daughter Helen is almost a woman, isn't she?"

"Yes," replied Mrs. Wayne, coming to his side and watching the slender figure going down the street. Her face bore a look of motherly pride, but she sighed, as she said,

"Yes, Time and Death are equally inexorable; they both take our babies from us."

"But not after the same fas.h.i.+on," replied Mr. Wayne. "Death takes them from our sight, where we cannot witness their growth and development, cannot know into what beauty they have blossomed."

"Still," said Mrs. Wayne, "we do not recognize the changes Time makes until they are accomplished. So gradually does the blossom unfold that there is no day to which we can point as the day on which the bud became the full blown flower. On what day did Helen cease to be a baby and become a child? On what day will she cease to be a child and become a woman?"

"We will know when the actual physical change takes place, but even after that I trust there will remain to us something of our little girl.

I do not like to think of her approaching the sentimental age. How old is she?"

"Thirteen."

"Well, we need have no present fear of a sudden development of sentimentality."

"Fortunately, no," replied Mrs. Wayne, "though many a mother of girls no older than Helen is troubled with the question of beaux. Helen, however, has had the good fortune to have for friends boys who seemed to enjoy her comrades.h.i.+p, and I have been very careful not to suggest that their relation could possibly border on the sentimental. So far, she has been perfectly obedient and ever ready to adopt my ideas on all subjects. We have been such close friends that I believe I am acquainted with her inmost thoughts, and if she had felt any romantic emotions I believe she would have confessed them to me."

"Happy mother!" said Mr. Wayne approvingly, "I wish all girls found in their mothers their closest friends and confidants. By the way, you have always talked freely to her about life's mysteries; have you explained her approaching womanhood to her?"

"Not yet," was the reply. "Perhaps I have been a little unwilling to believe that she is really nearing that crisis. I cannot bear to lose my little girl," and Mrs. Wayne looked into her husband's face, smiling through her tears.

"Yes, I can understand that," he said, "and yet we believe that only through the normal development of her physical nature can she be the 'woman perfected.' I beg of you not to postpone your instruction too long. I am more and more convinced that right knowledge not only safeguards purity, but really produces true modesty. To give a young person a reverent knowledge of self is to insure that delicacy of thought which preserves the bloom of modesty. If the girls who are engaged in street flirtations could only be taught the lesson of true womanhood, I am sure they would become quiet and lady-like in conduct. I would rather lose my little girl altogether than have her fall into this error. You have no hesitancy about speaking to her?"

"Not in the least. But I have thought that perhaps she would indicate by some question that her mind was becoming ready for the disclosure. It always seems to me that to force information before the mind is ready to receive it, is to jeopardize its reception."

"Don't wait, Mary. You risk too much by allowing some one else the opportunity to give her the knowledge with the taint of evil suggestion."

"You are right,--and I could not bear that anyone else should explain to her all these mysteries. I have always been her teacher and I will not relinquish that privilege. I will seize the very first that will allow us uninterrupted time.

"But do you not think that you as a father should have some part in this blessed work of guiding our daughter? I believe that it will be most helpful to her to get the man's view on the problems of her life. You know, one never gets a true perspective of material objects with only one eye; and I believe this is equally true of life. I can give her the woman's view, but she needs to know also how men look upon life. She will be better able to judge of the right or wrong of conduct if she knows that my view is supported by your own."

"You are right, as usual," replied Mr. Wayne smiling, "and you may rest a.s.sured that I will always be glad to supplement your counsel by my own."

Almost a Woman

CHAPTER I.

"Mother." The clear girlish voice rang through the house with persistent intensity but awakened no responsive call. Mr. Wayne, coming up the steps, heard the repeated summons for "Mother" and sent out his answering cry, "Father's here." Quick, light steps answered his call and an urgent young voice demanded, "Where's mother?"

"Mother has been called away for tonight, so you'll have to put up with father."

"O, dear!" sighed the girl despondently.

"Is father such a poor subst.i.tute, then?" inquired Mr. Wayne in an aggrieved tone.

"O, no," responded Helen, quickly. "You're usually as good as mother; but there were some special things I wanted to ask her about this evening. I suppose I can wait," she added, dolorously.

"Try me and see if I won't answer tolerably well. What are these weighty problems?" drawing his daughter to his knee as he spoke.

"That's it," pouted Helen. "You always make fun,--mother doesn't."

"Pardon me, daughter, I had no intention of making fun. I only wanted you to feel at home with me. It was a clumsy attempt, I'll admit, but really and truly I would like to be in your confidence--to feel that you trust me, too. I can't fill mother's place, I know, but I can do what mother can't, I can give you the man's view of things, and that is sometimes of great value for a girl to know."

"Yes," said Helen, snuggling down in her father's lap, for they were great friends and she felt his sympathy. "I often wish we could know how things look to other people. I know boys don't look at matters as girls do, but we can't always tell just what they do think."

"That is true," replied Mr. Wayne, gravely. "I often think that if girls knew just what boys say among themselves it would make them more careful of their conduct.

"For instance, not long ago I was on a steamer where there was dancing.

I went into the smoking room, and there I heard the comments of the young men. I am sure the girls had no idea how their dress, figures, freedom and flirtatiousness were criticised and laughed at by these young men, who seemed to them, doubtless, so very nice and polite. Of course, these girls were mostly strangers to the young men and were getting acquainted without introductions, probably thinking it fine fun."

"Yes, father. I've heard some of the real nice girls talk about getting acquainted in that way, and they seem to think it all right. Someway, it never seemed quite nice to me."

"I hope not, my daughter. I should be sorry to have you form acquaintances in that way. You never can tell what a man's character is by his clothes or manners. Indeed, you may think you know a man pretty well, and yet be mistaken. I suppose girls who are familiar with young men and allow them liberties imagine that they are trustworthy. I sat in front of two young men on a train not long ago. They appeared well and really were nice, as boys go, but they had the usual boy's idea as to honor. They were talking freely of the girls they knew, discussing their merits and charms, saying that this one was soft and 'huggable,' that another was sweet to kiss--"

"O, father!" exclaimed Helen, in a fury of surprise and anger. "They didn't talk that way so that you could hear! And call the girls by name, too?"

"Yes, they did, dear. Then after they had discussed several, who all seemed to allow great freedom, they mentioned another name, and their whole manner changed. 'Ah,' said one, 'there's no nonsense about her.

It's 'hands off' there every time and'--he went on, with great emphasis, 'that's the kind of a girl I mean to marry. A man doesn't want to feel that his wife's been s...o...b..red over by all the young men of her acquaintance.'"

Helen hid her face on her father's shoulder. "How perfectly dreadful!"

she said. "They were not gentlemen."

"I'll admit that,--and yet the conduct of the girls in permitting such freedom was really an excuse for their speaking so discourteously of them. The girls had not maintained their own self-respect, and therefore had not secured the respect of the young men. The girl who respected herself compelled respect from them, and that is the idea I wish to impress on your mind. Never expect any one to respect you more than you respect yourself, nor to s.h.i.+eld your honor if you have placed yourself in their power."

"But, father," said Helen hesitatingly, "most of the girls and boys think it no harm to kiss each other good night, and the girls say the boys would be offended if a girl refused."

"They are mistaken. Of course, the boys like to have the girls think so; but they don't talk that way among themselves, you may be sure."

"But, you see, father," urged Helen, hesitatingly, "they say they are engaged, and that makes it all right."

"How long do they stay engaged?" asked Mr. Wayne. "Do they really consider it a true engagement, to end ultimately in marriage, or is it merely an excuse for freedom of a.s.sociation?"

"O, they're all the time breaking their engagements. I don't believe they expect them to last very long. Now, there's Dora Ills. She's only sixteen and she says she's been engaged four times, and when she breaks the engagement she doesn't give back the ring. She's making a collection of engagement rings, she says."

"It is very evident that she cannot have the highest respect for herself. I knew of a girl whose sister had been engaged several times and who said to her, 'Why, Lida, you've never been engaged yet, have you?' And Lida replied, 'No, and I have made up my mind that I'll not be one of your pawed-over girls.'