Chapter 14

KATE BLOGGS _and her cousin_, ORPHEA BLAGGS, _in conversation_.

_Orphea_. What will you do, dear?

_Kate_. A deed without a name! A deed will waken me at dead of night! A deed whose stony face will stare at me With vile grimace, and freeze my curdling blood! Will make me quake before the eye of day; Shrink from the sun; and welcome fearsome night! A deed will chase my trembling steps by ways Unknown, through lonely streets, into dark haunts!-- Will make me tremble if a child observes Me close; and quake, if, in a public crowd, One glances at me twice! A deed I'll blush for, yet I'll do't; and charge Its ugliness on those who forced me to't-- In short, I'll wear the breeks.

_Orphea_. Oh, Katie! You?

_Kate_. Yes, me, dear coz.

_Orphea_. But then your hair, and voice!

_Kate_. I'll train my voice to mouth out short, thick words, As Bosh! Trash! Fudge! Rot! And I'll cultivate An Abernethian, self-assertive style, That men may think there is a deal more in My solid head than e'er comes out. My hair I'll cut short off.

[_She looses down her abundant brown hair, and passes her hands through it caressingly_.

Ah, woman's simple pride! these tresses brown Must all be shorn. Like to Godiva fair, Whose heart, so true, forgot itself, to serve Her suffering kind; I, too, must make My hair an offering to my sex; a protest strong 'Gainst man's oppression. Oh, wavy locks, that won my father's praise, I must be satisfied to cut ye off, And keep ye in a drawer 'till happier times, When I again may wear ye as a crown: Perchance a bang.

_Orphea_. 'Twould, perhaps, be best to wear some as moustache.

_Kate_. The very thing! then whiskers won't be missed.

_Orphea_. But oh, your mannish garb! How dreadful, Kate!

_Kate_. True; but it must be done, and you must help.

[_Exeunt_.

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