A Serious Tea-Drinking Page #4

"A Serious Tea-Drinking" is a novella by Sarah Orne Jewett that explores themes of social custom, friendship, and the intricacies of women's relationships in 19th-century New England. The story centers around a group of women who gather for tea, allowing for intimate conversations and revelations that reveal their inner lives and societal roles. Jewett's delicate prose captures the nuances of human connection, the subtleties of social etiquette, and the quiet strength of women as they navigate their relationships against a backdrop of tradition and expectation. Through this setting, she poignantly examines the significance of seemingly small moments and the deeper meanings they convey.

• Short story

								

responsibilities which come in our way. The mothers of the nation have
rights enough and duties enough already, and need not look farther
than their own firesides, or wish for the plaudits of an ignorant
public."

"But if I do not wish to be married, and do not think it right that I
should be," said poor Nan at last. "If I have good reasons against all
that, would you have me bury the talent God has given me, and choke
down the wish that makes itself a prayer every morning that I may do
this work lovingly and well? It is the best way I can see of making
myself useful in the world. People must have good health or they will
fail of reaching what success and happiness are possible for them; and
so many persons might be better and stronger than they are now, which
would make their lives very different. I do think if I can help my
neighbors in this way it will be a great kindness. I won't attempt to
say that the study of medicine is a proper vocation for women, only
that I believe more and more every year that it is the proper study
for me. It certainly cannot be the proper vocation of all women to
bring up children, so many of them are dead failures at it; and I
don't see why all girls should be thought failures who do not marry. I
don't believe that half those who do marry have any real right to it,
at least until people use common sense as much in that most important
decision as in lesser ones. Of course we can't expect to bring about
an ideal state of society all at once; but just because we don't
really believe in having the best possible conditions, we make no
effort at all toward even better ones. People ought to work with the
great laws of nature and not against them."

"You don't know anything about it," said Mrs. Fraley, who hardly knew
what to think of this ready opposition. "You don't know what you are
talking about, Anna. You have neither age nor experience, and it is
easy to see you have been associating with very foolish people. I am
the last person to say that every marriage is a lucky one; but if you
were my daughter I should never consent to your injuring your chances
for happiness in this way."

Nan could not help stealing a glance at poor Miss Eunice, behind her
fragile battlement of the tea-set, and was deeply touched at the
glance of sympathy which dimly flickered in the lonely eyes. "I do
think, mother, that Anna is right about single women's having some
occupation," was timidly suggested. "Of course, I mean those who have
no special home duties; I can see that life would not"--

"Now Eunice," interrupted the commander in chief, "I do wish you
could keep an opinion of your own. You are the last person to take up
with such ideas. I have no patience with people who don't know their
own minds half an hour together."

"There are plenty of foolish women who marry, I'll acknowledge," said
Miss Prince, for the sake of coming to the rescue. "I was really angry
yesterday, when Mrs. Gerry told me that everybody was so pleased to
hear that Hattie Barlow was engaged, because she was incapable of
doing anything to support herself. I couldn't help feeling that if
there was so little power that it had never visibly turned itself in
any practical direction, she wasn't likely to be a good housekeeper. I
think that is a most responsible situation, myself."

Nan looked up gratefully. "It isn't so much that people can't do
anything, as that they try to do the wrong things, Aunt Nancy. We all
are busy enough or ought to be; only the richest people have the most
cares and have to work hardest. I used to think that rich city people
did nothing but amuse themselves, when I was a little girl; but I
often wonder nowadays at the wisdom and talent that are needed to keep
a high social position respected in the world's eyes. It must be an
orderly and really strong-minded woman who can keep her business from
getting into a most melancholy tangle. Yet nobody is afraid when the
most foolish girls take such duties upon themselves, and all the world
cries out with fear of disaster, if once in a while one makes up her
mind to some other plan of life. Of course I know being married isn't
a trade: it is a natural condition of life, which permits a man to
follow certain public careers, and forbids them to a woman. And since
I have not wished to be married, and have wished to study medicine, I
don't see what act of Parliament can punish me."

"Wait until Mr. Right comes along," said Mrs. Fraley, who had pushed
back her chair from the table and was beating her foot on the floor in
a way that betokened great displeasure and impatience. "I am only
thankful I had my day when women were content to be stayers at home. I
am only speaking for your good, and you'll live to see the truth of
it, poor child!"

"I am sure she will get over this," apologized Miss Prince, after they
had reached the parlor, for she found that her niece had lingered with
Miss Fraley in the dining-room.

"Don't talk to me about the Princes changing their minds," answered
the scornful old hostess. "You ought to know them better than that by
this time." But just at that moment young Gerry came tapping at the
door, and the two ladies quickly softened their excited looks and
welcomed him as the most powerful argument for their side of the
debate. It seemed quite a thing of the past that he should have
fancied Mary Parish, and more than one whisper had been listened to
that the young man was likely to have the Prince inheritance, after
all. He looked uncommonly well that evening, and the elder women could
not imagine that any damsel of his own age would consider him
slightingly. Nan had given a little shrug of impatience when she heard
his voice join the weaker ones in the parlor, and a sense of
discomfort that she never had felt before came over her suddenly. She
reminded herself that she must tell her aunt that very night that the
visit must come to an end. She had neglected her books and her drives
with the doctor altogether too long already.
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