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"Oh come, put away that tiresome old book," she went on gaily, as he did not move; "I am certain it is only some dry agricultural work that you just nod over. Dancing is much better for you." Irais and I looked at one another quite frightened.
"Oh, but isn't there an English song," said Irais, twisting round her neck as she preceded us upstairs, "''Tis folly to remember, 'tis wisdom to forget'?" "You are not nervous sleeping alone, I hope," I said hastily. "What room is she in?" asked Irais. "No. 12." "Oh! do you believe in ghosts?" Minora turned pale. "What nonsense," said I; "we have no ghosts here. Good-night.
"Did you know that the morals of the German public are in such a shaky condition that a glimpse of that sort would be fatal to them?" "But I don't see how a stocking " "With stripes round it," said Irais. "And darns in it," I added, " could possibly be pernicious?" "'The Pernicious Stocking; or, Thoughts on the Ethics of Petticoats," said Irais.
Parents, priests, and governesses would be in the situation of a stout lady who never has a quiet moment in which she can take off her corsets." "My dear, what a firebrand!" whispered Irais. I got up and went in.
"If," he went on, addressing Irais, who looked rebellious, "you doubt the truth of my remarks, and still cling to the old poetic notion of noble, self-sacrificing women tenderly helping the patient over the rough places on the road to death or recovery, let me beg you to try for yourself, next time any one in your house is ill, whether the actual fact in any way corresponds to the picturesque belief.
The service on New Year's Eve is the only one in the whole year that in the least impresses me in our little church, and then the very bareness and ugliness of the place and the ceremonial produce an effect that a snug service in a well-lit church never would. Last night we took Irais and Minora, and drove the three lonely miles in a sleigh. It was pitch-dark, and blowing great guns.
Why do naughty things at all, if you are going to repent afterward? Nobody is naughty unless they like being naughty; and nobody ever really repents unless they are afraid they are going to be found out." "By 'nobody' of course you mean women, said Irais. "Naturally; the terms are synonymous. Besides, men generally have the courage of their opinions."
"But I am not an old bottle," said Irais indignantly, when I held forth to her to the above effect a few hours later in the library, restored to all my philosophy by the warmth and light, "and I find my resolutions carry me very nicely into the spring. I revise them at the end of each month, and strike out the unnecessary ones.
"I didn't know you could talk so much, Sage," said Irais at length. "What would you have women do, then?" asked Minora meekly. Irais began to beat her foot up and down again, what did it matter what Men of Wrath would have us do? "There are not," continued Minora, blushing, "husbands enough for every one, and the rest must do something." "Certainly," replied the oracle.
"I wonder what they talk about?" I said to Irais yesterday, when there was no getting Minora to come to tea, so deeply was she engaged in conversation with Miss Jones. "Oh, my dear, how can I tell? Lovers, I suppose, or else they think they are clever, and then they talk rubbish." "Well, of course, Minora thinks she is clever." "I suppose she does. What does it matter what she thinks?
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