Boston (Mass.) -- Fiction; Women philanthropists -- Fiction
“It is just such a place as this that we have decided to establish, a
social club for young men and women, where they may laugh and talk to
their heart’s content and have plenty of innocent fun.”
“And fall in love with each other?” I inquired.
“Certainly,” was the reply. “Why not? Does not all experience show it to
be impossible to purify society by breaking natural instincts or
ignoring them? Oh, my dear,” continued Mildred earnestly, “the pure love
of man and woman should be the most blessed thing in life, and I who
know the joy of this love would gladly keep these brothers and sisters
of mine from letting it be trodden in the mire, or on the other hand
slip forever out of their lives.”
“But how can this be done?” I questioned skeptically. “By simply
substituting for the sidewalk a room in which to giggle and flirt?”
“Listen,” said Mildred. “We shall not begin by building until the
experiment is assured, but we have already hired ten places in different
parts of the city, where, with the help of the ‘King’s Daughters’ and
the young people of the Society for Christian Endeavor, we shall begin
this work.
“The first thing we did was to engage a kind-hearted, middle-aged
married woman to be the responsible head of each social club. She is to
see that pleasant pictures are hung upon the walls, that potted plants
are put into the windows, and everything made homelike and cosy and in
good taste.
“There are to be no printed rules and mottoes hung around the wall, as
if it were an institution and we were trying to do the people good. They
would be suspicious of anything of that sort.”
“How many rooms have you in each place?” I asked.
“Oh, that varies,” answered Mildred. “In most of them there is a small
hall with waxed floor and piano to be used for dancing or singing
classes or debating clubs. There is another room for gymnastics, with
apparatus and a piano, where a competent person will direct, and
gradually insinuate various sensible ideas in regard to high heels,
tightlacing and a bad carriage, and try to make physical culture seem a
desirable thing.
“There will be another room for quiet games like checkers and dominoes,
several bath-rooms, and a parlor where the girls can bring their fancy
work and receive their friends.”
“But, Mildred,” I cried in alarm, “you will get a perfect mob, if you
are not careful. They will bang your piano to pieces, they will have
rude kissing games, the girls will waltz with men whom they never saw
before; and then, if you make rules and don’t let them have their own
way, they won’t come. I know the kind of people whom you want to help,
and they are the most independent creatures living.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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