It is impossible
to break up a set. And as for that matter, half-past ten is two hours and
a half past their bed-time; they might as well stay an hour longer. I wish
nobody would ever ask my children to a party. I cannot keep them at home,
if they are asked. Of course, I _might_; but I have not the moral courage
to see them so unhappy. All the other children go; and what can I do?"
This is a tender, loving mother, whose sweet, gentle, natural methods with
her children have made them sweet, gentle, natural little girls, whom it
is a delight to know. But "what can she do?" The question is by no means
one which can be readily answered. It is very easy for off-hand severity,
sweeping condemnation, to say, "Do! Why, nothing is plainer. Keep her
children away from such places. Never let them go to any parties which
will last later than nine o'clock." This is the same thing as saying,
"Never let them go to parties at all." There are no parties which break up
at nine o'clock; that is, there are not in our cities. We hope there are
such parties still in country towns and villages,--such parties as we
remember to this day with a vividness which no social enjoyments since
then have dimmed; Saturday-afternoon parties,--_matinees_ they would have
been called if the village people had known enough; parties which began at
three in the afternoon and ended in the early dusk, while little ones
could see their way home; parties at which there was no "German," only the
simplest of dancing, if any, and much more of blind-man's-buff; parties at
which "mottoes" in sugar horns were the luxurious novelty, caraway cookies
the staple, and lemonade the only drink besides pure water.
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