Domestic fiction; Girls -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
It is probable that she would never have run to long words, had it not
been her dearest desire to grow up like one of the Story Book Girls. It
was the desire of every sister in the Leighton family. Each worked on
it differently however. Mabel, the eldest, now seventeen, in the
present delights of hair going up and skirts letting down, took her
ideas of fashion straight from "Adelaide Maud" the elegant one.
"Adelaide Maud" wore her hair in coils and sat under heliotrope
parasols. Mabel surreptitiously tried that effect as often as five
times a day with the family absent.
Jean threw all her ambitions on the sporting carriage of "Madeline" who
was a golfer.
Betty determined to wear bangles and play the violin because "Theodora,"
the youngest of the lot, did that. And Elma based her admiration of
"Hermione" on the fact that she had "gone in" for science. Long ago
they had christened their divinities. It did not do to recognize
latterly that the Dudgeons were known in society by other names
altogether. One can do these dreamy, inconsequent things with the most
superb pleasure while one’s family remains between certain romantic
ages; in the case of the Leightons at the moment when Elma ran to her
bedroom--between the ages of ten and seventeen. Betty was ten, Elma
twelve, Jean fifteen and Mabel seventeen.
It was an axiom with the girls that their parents need not know how they
emulated the Story Book Girls. Yet the information leaked out
occasionally.
It was also considered bad form to breathe a word to the one elder
brother of the establishment. Yet even there one got into trouble.
"Why on earth do you call her Adelaide Maud when her name is Helen?"
asked Cuthbert one day bluntly. "Met her at a dance--and she nearly
slew me. I called her Miss Adelaide!"
"O--o--o--oh!"
It is impossible to explain the thrill that the four underwent.
Cuthbert had met Adelaide Maud!
"Did she talk about us?" asked Elma breathlessly.
"Doesn’t know you kids exist," said Cuthbert.
Here was a tumbling pack of cards.
However the idylls of the Story Book Girls soon were built up again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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