Extracts from Mrs. Lofty's Diary, Part V. Ethelberta [pp. 502-513]

EXTRACTS FROM MRS. LOFTY'S DIARY.
"How lucky. It will save me a trip
around to the florist's; I wanted to leave
some with Effie on my way to the
court."
"Who is Effie?" inquired Bud ruefully.
"Effie Kline. She is a cripple, poor
thing. I'm.teaching her water colors,
and these long-stemmed pansies will be
just the thing for her to try. Did you
bring your racket? Good. Come on to
the Club with me; I am going to practise there today. You can wait outside
while I stop in to see Effie."
Bud went along obediently, putting his
best foot foremost to keep up with Ethel's
stride as she swung along at a pedestrian
excursion gait.
When all the girls are like my niece,
how much fun will be lost out of the
world. Perhaps something better will
come to take the place of it, but certainly
life will not be so amusing.
May I7th. It is a fact, I suppose, that
when the new woman arrives, the old
man will have to accommodate himself to
her, just as he does to the present one.
They can't do without us. It is amusing
to watch Bud studying this advance
specimen. He has evidently made up his
mind that there are more in reserve
where this one came from, and that he
will discover a vulnerable point in their
armor, or perish in the attempt. Ethel
endures him good-humoredly for the most
part, but when he gets too presuming,
she snubs him without ceremony. Even
Reuben Harper seems unable to withstand the attraction of curiosity, and he
observes her respectfully from a distance,
without putting himself in the way of
getting any more stings from her virtuous spines. Last evening he sat in the
shadow and watched her continuously,
as she argued with her uncle about fate
and freewill, quarreled with Mrs. Ostrom
about realism in fiction, or instructed Bud
patronizingly in the merits of the Wagnerian school of music.
"I like something with a tune," said
poor Bud.
"Tune!" repeated Ethelberta scornfully. "' Little Brown Jug' has a tune.
When you listen to Wagner, all you have
to do is to shut your eyes, and be transported into a universe of pure truth.
Music is the only speech of heaven, I am
sure of it. When we all stop clattering
our tongues so much, we shall be able
to hear our souls speak."
"There is Mr. Harper," said Mrs.
Ostrom, "who has not said anything
for an hour. He must have had revelations."
"I have," said Reuben quietly.
Ethel started and looked around at him,
trying to pierce his shadowy corner with
her glance.
"I had forgotten he was there," she
said; and some way the force of her own
last observation seemed to strike her,
and she, too, became suddenly silent. It
is odd, how as soon as we find we have
had a listener we wotted not of, we begin reviewing our utterances in this new
relationship.
My niece moved presently, and put
herself in a position where Mr. Harper
had not so much the advantage of her.
However, she can bear inspection; there
are no artifices to conceal. I wish she
would let me dress her, but she affects
to despise dress; I think in my heart
she secretly believes she can afford to do
without it, and that she emphasizes her
perfect profile by the utter plainness with
which she combs back her hair. New or
old, women are made on one pattern. I
have no opinion of that young man she
is engaged to, or he would have taken
some of the nonsense out of her before
this.
Tuesday, the I8th. The age of mir
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