Rensselaer Republican, Volume 20, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 May 1888 — CONQUERING A QUAKER. [ARTICLE]

CONQUERING A QUAKER.

"I would otter to help ycu.Edith.only I don’t know what you mean to take,” said Helena Marvin, looking into the room, where her sister was picking. “Take?” said Edith, hardly pauslrg to answer as she moved about the open trunks from closet and bureau, “why, I am going to take everything.” “Don’t you mean to make any concessional” “Not a concession.” “You think it will be better to defy them?” “Defy them! no, indeed! What a horrible ideal I mean to please them.” “But how can you possibly please them if you wear silk dresses and curl your hair?” “I don’t know; perhaps I shan’t; but I’m going to try. And I know I never should please anybody if I left my nair straight*” and the pretty Cambridge belle thought to herself that it would be a pity, indeed, if she, who bad always pleased everybody without trying, could not please Robert’s relatives if she did try. Rut this visit to Robert’s relatives was naturally contemplated witheven more than the usual trembling excitement of the young times. For Robert’s father and mother and sisters were all quakers, with traditions and beliefs and customs recording to which they ought to contemplate with horror and distress this union of their only son and brother with a worldling—and such a worldling! Such a fascinating combination of laugh* ing eyesand merry lips,and ending hair, and tinkling bangles, and rustling, long silk skirts, and coquettish bonnets, and bewildering laces, and ribbons, and lit* tie slippers.

But she had a faint hop? that, once ’brought in contact w ithher worldinese, they wo n d find it pleasanter than they thought. Why not? She had conquered Robert; why should she not conquer them? Robert had not fallen in love with her in spite of her aiis and (race, he had fallen in love with the airs and graces themselves. He had often told her so. He had repeatedly pointed out the particular little cnrl over her adorable forehead that had first won his attention, and had assured her that it was a certain I it of lace about her throat that had completed his subjugation. And that dear little curl, was but a bought curl,held in its place by hairpins and as fictitionsly worldly as a cnrl could pcsiibly be. True, Robert was not exactly a quaker, he was c nly a descendant of quakers. He bad not definitely renounced the world, although there clung to him from the force of heredity and training and circumstances a certain grave demeanor and atmosphere of earneatueee. He did not dance; he did not even want to d ance; but he did not exactly disapprove of other people dancing if anybody did choose to indulge in to foolish a capr ce; ard on the evening when he had been lured by a friend to one of the Cambridge ‘’assemblies,” and had met there his immediate, unquestionable, irr s'stible, worldly little fate he had even felt suddenly a sort of impotent rags w ith himself at not being able to dance. True, he didn’t want to dance any more than he ever did; but then,she wanted to date’, and how cculd he ever please her if he couldn’t do exactly the same things she did? Still, be hsd p’e&scd her. ard with very little effort; ter the quiet, earnest youth was tall and very handsome and would graduate with honors; in consideration of which attractions his earnestnets might easily be forgiven, even, indeed, if the earnestness itee If had not a certain charm nf its own. as at leasts novelty. So.jf Robert had pleased her, and she had nleased Robert, unlike each, other as they were—and everybody acknowledged that itwas a perfect bve mat:Eon both aider—why might it not be pcssible that she would please Robert’s relations? Though not so much as a slipper-bow would she sacrifice from herpleassntwiorldlinees to secure thaF much-fo-te-desired result. As it channel, a test of her resolution .in thit waa ofiej-fuLimmediataly. Mrs. Marvin a ad Ed i th had barely been shown their chamber, after their arri val at the Longworth home, before Edith opened her traveling bag and exclaimed in.dismay: “On, dear! oh, dear! Mamma, my slate pencil is all broken into bits, and my ci imps are all out of curl. Whatever shall I dot Oh, I know! Esther said she would be in the next room if I wanted anything.” In another minute she was tappingat Esther’s door. “ “I am sorrow to trouble yon. but my

s’ate-yencil is all broken to bits in my bag Could you let me have cne of yours?” “Thee would like a slate-pencil?” Skid Robert’s serene sister, with evident bewilderment. "Yer. for my crimps you know. They are all out < f curl and si tumbled that I can’t go down stairs looking sc.” “Bnt could thee not comb them out? I could lend thee a comb to comb them out." • I could, of course, but you’ve no idea what a fright I am without my trimpe. Robert never saw me with my hair straight, and 1 know he would hate to nave his mother see me unless I was looking my very, very best. Of course, you know, I have another bang in my trunk.” Edith made this confession with a wild inatinct that it would be best for Robert’s relatives to know the worst at once, so that any possible concessions to be made afterward, though she would not acknowledge the poesibility of concession, would strike them in the light of unexpected improvement. “But my trunk hasn’t come; so if you could lend me a pencil.” “I—l am afraid I have no slate pencil,” faltered Esther. “Well, a pipe would do; haven’t you a pipe handle? Just a common white pipe, such as the children have for soap bubbles, you know.” “If thee will waitamoment 7 willsee,” said the discreet Esther. Edith in the meantime made her way back to her own room and waited in suspense, while Esther went slowly down stairs, questioning her conscience, and yet very loath to disappoint the lit - tle witch who was depending upon her. She had made up hejr mind to ba very tolerant of the worldlinees of Robert’s fiancee, but to be suddenly called upon to aid and abet her in it was almost mere than could be reasonably expected of her even by Robert. And yet it would be so unfortunate to begin the visit with a family jar! She had a terrible consciousness that there was a pipe in the house—Richard,her little nephew, had had it for soap bubbles only the week before—and to tell a lie, even a white lie, and permit herself to be unable to find it, was something mote terrible to Esther’s conscience than even conniving at a curl. 2s it happened, however, she really could not find it. Here was certainly sufficient excuse for going back empty handed; and yet—and yet—when she came to the foot of the stairs, Esther, insteed of going up, turned ai ide into the kitchen. “Bridget, could thee spare a moment to go across to the corner grocery and get me a 'pipe—a“c6min6h, white clay pipe?” “A pipe, is it?” said the wondering Bridget “Yes, Bridget, a pipe; a pipe so for blowing soap bubbles,” s’ammered Esther. “Thee knows, Bridget—a pipe such as Richard had for his play.” “Yes, I know,” said Bridget, wiping her hands on her apron, and then removing the apron. “And is it soap bubbles they do be wantin' to blow already? Faith, I’ll send ’em up a plate full for dinner.” “Edith has won her first battle,” wrote Mrs. Marvin to her husband that evening, “and without a wound or scar on either site. I only wish you had been here with your detective camera to get an instantaneous view of the two girls when Edith opened the door and Esther handed her the pipe.” As Edith had confidently expected, it was the first of a long series of victories over Robert’s relatives, which she gained not by trampling down their prejudices under the high heels of her French slippers, but by quietly teaching them to like her just as she was. She had an infinite amount of the gracious tact which comes with a certain kind of aristocratic, highbred worldlinees, and she was at heart a most winning; affectionate and true-hearted girl. Had she been merely a worldling, the French slippers wonld not have fought for her or conquered her enemies, but Robert’s relatives made the surprising discovery that a really sweet-hearted creature remains sweet even on high hee’s; and before a week was over Edith was the acknowledged ruler of the entire household.

It was even decided in family conclave that it would do to give her what, in the worldly world, would be known as a “reception.” They had no idea of doing this iu looking forward to her visit It was felt that it would be concession enough for them to consent to receive as a visitor into the bosom of their own family the young woman who had disappointed their fondest hopes for the security of Robert’s future. To have their friends to meet her, to see her in the full blase of her effrontery of long silk gown, and perhaps even of diamonds, would be to advertise their shame, the disgrace of 4be-enUra family, in a way-xutto-.be con temp lated . for a mom ent. They would endure, but they would not publish to the world the fact of what they were called upon to endure. And yet—and yet—at the end of a fortnight preparations were on hands for all their friends to come and see this wonderful Edith with full knowledge on the part of the family that Fdith would undoubtedly surpass all her previous efforts on this occasion in the art of decoration. Edith, however, had her own plus. On the evening before the solemn entertainment she slipped

up-stairs, took off all her bangs, brushed her hair down perfectly smooth and straight over her little ears, twisting it very plsiuly behind, gnd then drew from her trank a little gown of pale gray cashmere, reaching barely to her ankles, and without a ruffle era fold, except the fewest possible pls its at the waist, and absolutely guiltless c f ornamentation of any kind. A tiny scarf of wh t) illusion was crossed over her breast, and her contemplated toilet was complete. Neverthele s, she surveyed herself in the glass withe vide nt dis-atis-facticn. “Dear me, mamna, it im’t halt to bad as I thought it would be. I meant to look like a fright, and a'ter al its rather effective. If I was d rest el for private theatricals I should think myself immense. Ohdeai! suppose they should like me best th's way after aid” It was a sorrowful blow to her hopes on this tramp card to fin! h erst If still exceedingly pretty. She was perfectly conscious of a certain piquant charm in her novel appearance that might undo her after all. Still she would run the risk. She was a perfect little actress. If anything had been needed to elect Robert’s complete subjugation after his first vision of her lovliness at the Harvard assemblies it was supplied when be raw her the week alter in some private theatric ds. She could appear to be a quakeress just as effectively as she could act her more natural self in a different world, and it was with face and tceent and manner perfectly adapted to her new toilet that she quiptly entered the parlor ajain after her escapade upstairs, and said demurely to Robert’s mother: “Rachel, would thee like me to wear this gown to-morrow evening for thy friends? There was a subdued whistle of delight from the reconstructed Robert in the corner. But Robert’s mother give no sign. “Thee must wear just what thee pleases, Edith. If it pleases thee better to wear thy gown of red silk ” And the wise Edith understood human nature well enough to be sure that “Rachel” would not be altogether disappointed if her pretty future daughter-in-law should reconsider her toilet and re-appear in the dainty'gowns she had been exhibiting for the past fortnight. ““And what does Samuel think?” Edith asked, passing on to the stand before Robert’s father. “Samuel thinks,” said the old gentleIman, shyly, “that thee had better ask Robert.” “Ob, no, Papa Samuel, that would not be any test at alljthee knows perfectly well that Robert likes me in anything,” said Robert’s fiancee, demurelv. “And so do I like thee in anything,” said Papa Samuel, with unexpected gallantry. “But I think I like thee best, Edith, in red. Thee knows we quakers like to follow the way that is most simple and natural, and I think red is the most natural color for thee. I think thee mnst have been born in that red silk of thine. Thee is very sweet to me, my chiltj, in this quaker gray, but wqQuakers, thee knows, do not approve of theatricals, and I think to-night thee is trying to play a pari. Thee acts it very prettily, Edith, but I advise thee to go back to nature and thy red gowns.”'!?" So the battle was won, and the result proved that Edith was quite able to conquer not only Robert’s relations hut Robert’s relatione’ friends. When, a year later, she came back to tnem again as a bride there was but one thing left

for her to conquer. Robert had prepared her for a possible visit from elderly friends who might think it their duty to remonstrate with her, or with him, on his very worldly marriage, and it was, in truth, hardly a month before he ran up-etairs one afternoon, as she was dressing with the announcement that the prpbable counselors were taking off their overcoats in the hall. She hesitated a moment, but her hesition rose merely from a moment’s consideration of whether she had any other gown in her wardrobe that would emphasize more distinctly her intentions to adhere to her own tradition?. She decided that the long trailing skirt of pale green cashmere, with its border of pile plush and its sash of watered silk was sufficiently worldly when one took into consideration the jewel tbat sparkled in the laces st her throat, the dainl y lace-edged hand kerch’e', and the eUris over her white forehead. She paused only to slip cue more bangle over her round wrist, and then, kissing her husband, floated down-staiis. Robert never knew exa etact ly what she she eatd or did to the old gentlemen in the parlor. He hung over the banisteis and caucbt the echoes of her silvery little laughs, end saw the maid cairy tea into the parlor, and at the end of an hour descended the stairs birrs alf at the •oldgentlemen emt rged from "the doorwiy, determined tn stund by Ed ith to the last, if she happened to have a hard time, He knew tbat some remonstrance would be quietly dealt onqto himself, even during the brief vestibule episode of farewell; but to his astonishment, as 1 e stepped forward to help die old gentlemen with their overcoats, the one who was evidently spokesman for the party grasped his hand and said heartily: “Friend Robert, thee has married welh” " Still another year later and there lay on Edith’s arm a little Edith, with love-

ly eyes and very remarkable, highlyembroidered clothes. “Do you think,, Esther,” raid the young mother “that she is going to have curly hair?” “Yea,” said Esther, with a smile that wai grimly pleasant and yet pleasantly grim, “I think she will have curlv hair. I know thee would find a way to cnrl it, though it be as straight as—as a pipe stem,”ard Annt Esther tent over to kb 8 the child. v “And you’re glad it curls, Esther, you know you are,” insisted the baby’s mamma. ‘Yes. Edith, lam si ad it carls. For tioce thee woold be sure to curl it somehow, it is best that Dame Nature will have none of thy tricks and graces, but will bring up the child to suit hertell.” ,