The Inner Sisterhood | Page 8

listened with an air, not of attention, but enforced toleration. It
made me furious! Two or three times he said "Yes?" which was really
worse than nothing! Finally, when near home, he turned to me and in a
tired, indifferent tone, said: "Beg pardon, Miss Wing; you are just out, I
believe! What did you study while at school?" It was a fling--I knew
it--so I answered, "I studied how to be rude to arrogant, patronizing

people who are forever asking impudent questions with a desire to give
pain, sir!" He placed my night-key in the door deliberately, calmly;
pushed open the door, lifted his hat, turned on his heel, without even
closing one half of the storm-doors, like other men always do, and said:
"Miss Wing, you have been well taught! You were, indeed, a very apt
scholar! I congratulate you! I have the honor to bid you good-night!" I
could have picked a dozen pale-pink roses to pieces just then, but not
leaf by leaf; I could have torn up a whole rose-tree by the roots! They
say Mr. Young is so smart, wonderful deep, and all that; but he is just a
mean, rude man, and I won't ever have any thing more to do with him;
and when I say I won't, I won't!
How some people do ruffle me into a fever-heat of dislike and ardent
opposition. Of course I know that it is all wrong, yet after all there is a
certain kind of satisfaction. Now, for instance, that Mrs. Babbington
Brooks, with her smooth, oily tongue, abominable phrases, "Yes, my
sweet loves," and her "O! my dear doves," sets me fairly wild. She is
such a vulgar, low-born person! I always feel tempted to fly right at her
and tear off her load of tawdry, costly finery, exhaling a strong, close
odor of greenbacks. How people have taken them up! all on account of
their money. They are invited every where; and only last season people
were turning up their noses and asking, "Who, pray, are the Brookses?"
Thanks to a cook from somewhere, and a butler from somewhere else,
their entertainments are said to be really delightful, and their dinners
perfection itself. They are not yet quite sure of their position! They are
afraid it will not be permanent! But they will succeed. I know they will,
because I feel it! To me there is always something very fascinating
about these desperate social strugglers--especially when they are
successful. Aunt Patsey, too, she says they will succeed, and Aunt
Patsey knows! But she don't know every thing, for Mrs. John Robert
Gilder has fooled her. But I am not surprised; she would have fooled
me, also, if I was not so intimate with Sophia, who tells me every
thing--the only person who ever did; and there is just nothing I would
not do for her. I know Sophia Gilder's other secret! She is caring a
great deal too much for a man who don't take overmuch interest in her.
But the man don't even know that she cares any thing for him, and I
don't believe he will ever know--unless I tell him myself! Now I call

that real tragedy; just as good as any you ever see on the stage, or read
about in books. I would love to tell him; but that is one thing I have
never told, and I never will, either! As they say in novels, it will go
down to my grave with me. I am so anxious about Sophia, I am afraid it
may take her there. But I have my doubts, she is right healthy-looking
yet. Aunt Patsey says that love hurts a powerful lot, but don't often kill
out and out. Robert Fairfield is the man. Ma says she never could
understand why he don't pay me devoted attention. His father was one
of her old beaus. She was engaged to him; Aunt Patsey broke it off--she
was scheming for pa--she could break off any thing, that ancient female!
Mr. Fairfield is polite to me, and that is about all. When I was a
school-girl I used to dream about him! In my dreams he was always
dressed like a knight, and rode a milk-white steed, waved his hand
toward me, and then I always waked up. It was so provoking. I never
could get any further into the dream. I know I would like him if I knew
him real well. He is quiet, but not one bit stupid. He talks little, but oh,
he is such an attentive listener! He don't come after me, so I can't run
after him. For I don't know, and I don't want to know any thing about
catching men--as if they were wild animals, fish, or something. Aunt