Bildungsromans; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Scotland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"You're always miserable. It gets on my nerves."
"I wish you would come sometimes. You've never been since that day you
told me you'd joined the ballet."
"Well, you was Melancholy Sarah that day, wasn't you, Lilli?"
The call-boy's summons closed the conversation, and Jenny ran off to her
own dressing-room for the last touch of powder.
When she came out of the theater that night, it was blowing a full
October gale. There was nobody by the stage door in whom she felt the
slightest interest, so without loitering and with pleasant anticipation
of to-morrow's fun, she went straight home.
Mrs. Raeburn was sitting by the kitchen fire when Jenny got back.
"You're early," she said.
"I know. There wasn't anything to stay out for. It's a terrible night,
pelting in rain. Shame after the glorious weather we've been having.
It's my birthday to-morrow, too."
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Raeburn. "And I'd forgotten all about
it."
"You always do," said Jenny.
"I ought to have remembered this time. It was weather just like we've
been having before you were born, and it come on to blow and rain just
like this the very night. Twenty years! Tut-tut!"
"I don't feel a day older than fourteen," asserted Jenny.
"Tell me, do you enjoy being alive?" asked Mrs. Raeburn.
"Oh, what a question! Of course I do."
"You don't ever feel it was a pity you ever come into the world?"
"Of course I don't. Why should I? I think I'm a very lucky girl."
"You don't ever tell me anything about yourself," said Mrs. Raeburn. "So
I don't know."
"There's nothing to tell."
"I wish you'd get married."
"Whatever for?"
"Aren't you a bit gay?"
"Gay! Of course not."
"I wish you'd settle down," urged the mother. "There's a lot of nice
young chaps as would be glad to marry you."
"But I don't want to be married. I sha'n't ever get married. Ugh!
Besides, what's going on as I am done? I'm enjoying myself."
"Too much, I'm afraid," said her mother.
"I don't want to get married," Jenny repeated. "I don't see that you did
much good to yourself by getting married. I think you threw yourself
away. Everybody must have liked you when you was a girl, and you go and
marry Dad. I think you were potty. And yet you want me to do the same. I
can't understand people."
"Why couldn't you have been nicer to that young baker chap?"
"Young baker chap? Yes, then I woke up. Him! Why, he used to hang his
shoulders up when he took off his coat. Besides, he's common."
"You're getting very dainty."
"Well, look at the men you want me to marry. Why--they're awful--like
navvies half of them. Oh, don't carry on, mother. I know what I want."
"Jenny," said her mother sharply, "you haven't done anything wrong, have
you?"
"Of course not."
"Don't do anything wrong, there's a good girl. I was very upset about
Edie, but nothing to what I should be about you."
"This little girl's all right. What's the matter with going to bed?"
"You go on up. I'll wait for your father."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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