"But pleasures are like poppies spread,-- You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow fall on the river, A moment white, then melts forever." I wonder, is there always a fly in the ointment! CHAPTER XXII DIARY--TRANSFORMATION _December 15._ A FEW days can make a difference in one's life. I'm well on the way of being a real butterfly. I have bought new dresses, a real evening gown and a lovely silk dress to wear to the Bridge Club. It's lucky I saved my money these three months and had a nice surplus to buy these new things. Royal is teaching me to play cards. He says I take to them like a duck to water. Virginia and he are giving me dancing lessons. I love to dance! The same spirit that prompted me to skip when I wore sunbonnets is now urging me on to the dance. In a few weeks I'll be ready to join in the pleasures of my new friends. After the Christmas holidays the city will be gay until the Lenten season. _January 5._ I went home for Christmas and I suppose I managed to make everybody there unhappy and worried. I couldn't let them think I am the same quiet girl and not tell them about the cards and dancing. Daddy was hurt, but he didn't scold me. He said plainly that he does not approve of my course, that he thinks cards and dancing wicked. He added that I had been taught the difference between right and wrong and was old enough to see it. Perhaps he thinks I'll "run my horns off quicker" if I'm let go, as Aunt Maria often says about people. But she didn't say that about me. She made up for what daddy didn't say. She begged him to make me stay at home away from the wicked influences of the city. I had the hardest time to keep calm and not say mean things to her. She's ashamed of me and afraid people up there will find out how worldly I am. I had to tell Mother Bab too. I know I hurt her. She was so gentle and lovely about it that I felt half inclined to tell her I'd give up everything she didn't approve of, just to please her. But I didn't. I couldn't do that when I know I'm not doing anything wrong. She changed the subject and inquired about my music. In that I was able to please her. She shared my joy when I told her of my critical music master's approval of my progress. I sang some of my new songs for her and she kissed me with the same love and tenderness she has always had for me. I wonder sometimes whether I could possibly have loved my own mother more. Somehow, as I sat with her in her dear, cozy sitting-room I hated the cards and the dancing and half wished I had never left the farm. But that's a narrow, provincial view to take. Now that I'm back again I'm caught once more in the whirl. Everybody is entertaining, as if in a frantic endeavor to be surfeited before Lent and thus be able to endure the dullness of that period of suspended social activities.