Chapter 5 Fives

I saw Mrs. Strickland not infrequently during the summer.From time to time I went to lunch at her house, or to tea-parties; the lunch was always good, and the tea very good.I agree very well with Mrs. Strickland.I was very young at the time, and perhaps what she liked was to guide my childish footsteps into the arduous path of the literary world, and on my part, I was happy to find someone to talk to when I encountered some unsatisfactory trivial matters.I knew she would listen attentively and be able to give me some sensible advice.Mrs. Strickland was very sympathetic.Compassion is a rare skill that is often abused by those who know they have it.It is too dreadful for them to fling themselves upon men, and to use all their faculties, at the sight of their friends' misfortune.Compassion should flow like an oil well; those who love to express it let it run wild, and embarrass those who suffer.Some have had so many tears on their breasts that I can't bear to spill mine.Mrs. Strickland used her strengths so well that she made you feel that you were doing her a favor by accepting her sympathy.When I was young, in a fit of enthusiasm, I talked about this with Rose Waterford, and she said:

"Milk is delicious, especially with a few drops of brandy. But the cow is dying to let it bleed out. Swollen teats are very uncomfortable." Rose Waterford had a very mean mouth.No one can say such spicy words, but on the other hand, no one is as beautiful as her in doing things. There is one more thing I like about Mrs. Strickland.Her residence is very elegantly furnished.The rooms are always clean and decorated with flowers, which makes people feel very comfortable.The calico curtains in the living room, though rather old-fashioned in pattern, are brightly colored and light and pleasant.It is a pleasure to dine in the elegant little dining room; the tables are well-proportioned, the two maids are neat, and the dishes are cooked to perfection.Everyone could see that Mrs. Strickland was an able housekeeper, and besides, there was no doubt that she was a good wife and mother.There are pictures of her children in the living room.The son—his name was Robert—was sixteen and was at Rogby School; you see him in a flannel suit and a cricket cap in one picture, and a tuxedo in another picture, Fastened with a stiff collar.Like his mother, he had a broad forehead and beautiful, pensive eyes.His appearance was clean and tidy, and he looked healthy and upright.

"I don't think he's very bright," said Mrs. Strickland one day, as I was looking at the picture, "but I know he's a good boy. He has a lovely disposition." The daughter is fourteen years old.Her hair was thick and black, like her mother's, and hung thickly over her shoulders.His gentle face, dignified and clear eyes are just like his mother's. "They both look very much like you," I said. "No, they all follow me more than their father." "Why have you never let me see him?" "Would you like to see him?" She smiled, her smile was very sweet, and a slight blush appeared on her face; it was rare for a woman her age to blush so easily.Perhaps the most fascinating thing about her is her innocence.

"You know, he's not at all literate," she said. "He's a perfect bourgeois." She did not use the word pejoratively in the least, but rather affectionately, as if she could protect him from the sarcasms of her friends by mentioning his greatest fault herself. "He works on the Stock Exchange, and is a typical broker. I suppose he'll bore you." "Are you bored with him?" "You know, I happen to be his wife. I like him a lot." She smiled, hiding her shyness.I think she might be afraid that I might make a joke, and Ross Waterford would have made some sarcasm at such a confession.She hesitated for a moment, and her eyes became more gentle.

"He didn't want to pretend he had talent. He didn't make much money even on the Stock Exchange. But he had a very good heart." "I think I'm going to like him very much." "I'll invite you to dinner someday when there are no outsiders. But I'll say it up front, and you're taking the risk voluntarily; if you're having a very boring night, don't blame me."