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you think the man has no yearning for higher things？ Do you think we
like the office； the shop； the factory？ We ought to be writing
poetry； painting pictures； the whole world admiring us。 You seem to
imagine your man goes off every morning to a sort of City picnic； has
eight hours' funwhich he calls workand then comes home to annoy
you with chatter about dinner。
It is the old fable reversed； man said woman had nothing to do all
day but to enjoy herself。 Making a potato pie！ What sort of work
was that？ Making a potato pie was a lark； anybody could make a
potato pie。
So the woman said； 〃Try it；〃 and took the man's spade and went out
into the field； and left him at home to make that pie。
The man discovered that potato pies took a bit more making than he
had reckonedfound that running the house and looking after the
children was not quite the merry pastime he had argued。 Man was a
fool。
Now it is the woman who talks without thinking。 How did she like
hoeing the potato patch？ Hard work； was it not； my dear lady？ Made
your back ache？ It came on to rain and you got wet。
I don't see that it very much matters which of you hoes the potato
patch； which of you makes the potato pie。 Maybe the hoeing of the
patch demands more muscleis more suited to the man。 Maybe the
making of the pie may be more in your department。 But； as I have
said； I cannot see that this matter is of importance。 The patch has
to be hoed； the pie to be cooked； the one cannot do the both。 Settle
it between you； and； having settled it； agree to do each your own
work free from this everlasting nagging。
I know； personally； three ladies who have exchanged the woman's work
for the man's。 One was deserted by her husband； and left with two
young children。 She hired a capable woman to look after the house；
and joined a ladies' orchestra as pianist at two pounds a week。 She
now earns four； and works twelve hours a day。 The husband of the
second fell ill。 She set him to write letters and run errands； which
was light work that he could do； and started a dressmaker's business。
The third was left a widow without means。 She sent her three
children to boarding…school； and opened a tea…room。 I don't know how
they talked before； but I know that they do not talk now as though
earning the income was a sort of round game。
＇When they have tried it the other way round。＇
On the Continent they have gone deliberately to work； one would
imagine； to reverse matters。 Abroad woman is always where man ought
to be； and man where most ladies would prefer to meet with women。
The ladies garde…robe is superintended by a superannuated sergeant of
artillery。 When I want to curl my moustache； say； I have to make
application to a superb golden…haired creature； who stands by and
watches me with an interested smile。 I would be much happier waited
on by the superannuated sergeant； and my wife tells me she could very
well spare him。 But it is the law of the land。 I remember the first
time I travelled with my daughter on the Continent。 In the morning I
was awakened by a piercing scream from her room。 I struggled into my
pyjamas； and rushed to her assistance。 I could not see her。 I could
see nothing but a muscular…looking man in a blue blouse with a can of
hot water in one hand and a pair of boots in the other。 He appeared
to be equally bewildered with myself at the sight of the empty bed。
From a cupboard in the corner came a wail of distress：
〃Oh； do send that horrid man away。 What's he doing in my room？〃
I explained to her afterwards that the chambermaid abroad is always
an active and willing young man。 The foreign girl fills in her time
bricklaying and grooming down the horses。 It is a young and charming
lady who serves you when you enter the tobacconist's。 She doesn't
understand tobacco； is unsympathetic； with Mr。 Frederic Harrison；
regards smoking as a degrading and unclean habit； cannot see；
herself； any difference between shag and Mayblossom； seeing that they
are both the same price； thinks you fussy。 The corset shop is run by
a most presentable young man in a Vandyck beard。 The wife runs the
restaurant； the man does the cooking； and yet the woman has not
reached freedom from bother。
＇A brutal suggestion＇
It sounds brutal； but perhaps woman was not intended to live free
from all bothers。 Perhaps even the higher lifethe skirt…dancing
and the poker workhas its bothers。 Perhaps woman was intended to
take her share of the world's workof the world's bothers。
CHAPTER XII
＇Why I hate Heroes＇
When I was younger； reading the popular novel used to make me sad。 I
find it vexes others also。 I was talking to a bright young girl upon
the subject not so very long ago。
〃I just hate the girl in the novel；〃 she confessed。 〃She makes me
feel real bad。 If I don't think of her I feel pleased with myself；
and good； but when I read about herwell； I'm crazy。 I would not
mind her being smart； sometimes。 We can all of us say the right
thing； now and then。 This girl says them straight away； all the
time。 She don't have to dig for them even； they come crowding out of
her。 There never happens a time when she stands there feeling like a
fool and knowing that she looks it。 As for her hair： 'pon my word；
there are days when I believe it is a wig。 I'd like to get behind
her and give it just one pull。 It curls of its own accord。 She
don't seem to have any trouble with it。 Look at this mop of mine。
I've been working at it for three…quarters of an hour this morning；
and now I would not laugh； not if you were to tell me the funniest
thing； you'd ever heard； for fear it would come down again。 As for
her clothes； they make me tired。 She don't possess a frock that does
not fit her to perfection； she doesn't have to think about them。 You
would imagine she went into the garden and picked them off a tree。
She just slips it on and comes down； and thenmy stars！ All the
other women in the room may just as well go to bed and get a good
night's rest for all the chance they've got。 It isn't that she's
beautiful。 From what they tell you about her； you might fancy her a
freak。 Looks don't appear to matter to her； she gets there anyhow。
I tell you she just makes me boil。〃
Allowing for the difference between the masculine and feminine
outlook； this is precisely how I used to feel when reading of the
hero。 He was not always good； sometimes he hit the villain harder
than he had intended； and then he was sorrywhen it was too late；
blamed himself severely； and subscribed towards the wreath。 Like the
rest of us； he made mistakes； occasionally married the wrong girl。
But how well he did everything！does still for the matter of that； I
believe。 Take it that he condescends to play cricket！ He never
scores less than a hundreddoes not know how to score less than a
hundred； wonders how it could be done； supposing； for example； you
had an appointment and wanted to catch an early train。 I used to
play cricket myself； but I could always stop at ten or twenty。 T