up, but Aunt Elizabeth says fifteen is too young for that. She says girls are not so womanly at fifteen nowadays as they were in her time. Aunt Elizabeth is really frightened, I know, that if she lets me grow up I’ll be eloping—‘like Juliet.’ But I’m in no hurry to grow up. It’s nicer to be just like this—betwixt-and-between. Then, if I want to be childish I can be, none daring to make me ashamed; and if I want to behave maturely I have the authority of my extra inches.
“It’s a gentle, rainy evening tonight. There are pussy willows out in the swamp and some young birches in the Land of Uprightness have cast a veil of transparent purple over their bare limbs. I think I will write a poem on A Vision of Spring.
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“There has been quite an outbreak of spring poetry in High School. Evelyn has one in the May Quill on Flowers. Very wobbly rhymes.
“And Perry! He also felt the annual spring urge, as Mr. Carpenter calls it, and wrote a dreadful thing called The Old Farmer Sows His Seed. He sent it to The Quill and The Quill actually printed it—in the ‘jokes’ column. Perry is quite proud of it and doesn’t realise that he has made an ass of himself. Ilse turned pale with fury when she read it and hasn’t spoken to him since. She says he isn’t fit to associate with. Ilse is far too hard on Perry. And yet, when I read the thing, especially the verse,
I’ve done my best,
Now I'll leave the crop alone
And let God do the rest.’
I wanted to murder him myself. Perry can’t understand what is wrong with it.
“‘It rhymes, doesn’t it?’
“Oh, yes, it rhymes!
