The Bennington evening banner. (Bennington, Vt.) 19??-1961, 1905-11-23
FEMININE
CURIOSITY
HosErsoOs eosysssArios
ny HELEN ROWLAND

1 81 ~ AAo uoni ~ my ucn TAG A.
Island % rnfiies in the midst ~ a 81.
81 scattered papers, pipes. pens. lobae
a. and nshihE tackle. that requested
,on-nol a. touch nay desk,"
And I thought" replied Polly, tilt
ms her hose indluereniiy that nlne
beard Ne only a myth"
sFoaned,
u even iancied." she vent on, care
FULLY sorting ont a handful of lGbaco0
TAGS aud slowing them safely Ia the
drawer devoted a. my most valuable
papers. THAT be- Vas exceedingly Ia.
human and unnatural bat now I have
discovered that be wa perfectly hu,
man and perfectly natural" and ahe
deIsned Ia turn and take me in. from
tue tips ~ nay FidlnE boots 10 the top
Of my head. with glance that ~sin,
~ compared me Ia the ancient yrani.
''hluebcard. I remarked hanEinG 40
my crop and heiplsssly sinking into
the Morris chair. would have been
an ideal husband. u Faiima's curiosity
had not driven him TO the verge Of
murder
Polly tossed her rhin and indusirl-
ously fiung the decd 10 our house and
all my Insurance receipts into the
uasb'basket a, her side. from which
! surreplitiousiy rescued them.
'iie was" I continued. entirely ton
lenienL"
''roo-wha,!" Polly stopped her
rummaging TO EaSe At mo.
lie gave faiima the key TO his Sc
crci closet" declared.
Well" reJoined Polly. resumlng her
work. didn't you giye me the Keys
10 your desk7"
Not all Of them" assured her.
leaning back to watch the effect OF
my announcement upon the small per
ron At my feet. Not the one TO the
little drawer where keep my private
II mean my personal"
"o-o-ohl" breathed Polly. Il won
esred where that key was But
never even dreamed you had kept u
from purposely!" and the re-.
rrosch In her eyes would have stung a
harder man than I.
There was silence for a moment and
then cleared my throat.
Hmm, Bluccbard." I continued. in
spite OF his varied matrimonial expert.
enoes did not understand women.
He"
NONSENSE" laughed Polly. No man
ever understood women-except per-
haps solomon"
Solomon" sighed. digging my IA
vorite pipe out Of a pile OF rubbish
aud rcscuing my tobacco from the
trash basket. was a happy oriental.
Not one OF his wives would have dared
step n foot into his private apartments.
much less rummage about his blue
leard's closet"
'or his desk" giggled Polly.
"or his pipes"
"or his pride and self.esteem."
mo. nor attempt to lay his tender
est memories and darkest secrets bare
To the light"
Polly tore up an old dinner card with
an energy worthy Of better cause.
80 there are secrets. and scalps and |
corpses In your desk?" she exclaimed.
II didn't say so. replied eyasiyely. |
land II there are" continued i'm
pressively. why shouldn't. you leave
them there? Secrets. Polly. are like !
sleeping dogs best left lying. Curios- |
lily Is the great feminine crime. the in
ferited curse of woman. which has de- |
scended straight down from Eve. One |
would have thought. after that scrape |
that you would have learned lesson. |
But you are all Ewes and Pandoras |
and Fatimas. There isn't a door. nor |
closet that Is sacred from you. Now |
man is never curious"
Pooh" said Polly. "of course a man |
is not curious. Why should he be. |
" hen women tell him everything? He |
has nothing to be curious about. You |
never heard Of wife with a Blue
boards closet, did you? II is always |
the men who have them. They carry
their secrets about with them rs
proudly as they would a decoration or
a medal They have even been known
to take them to the grave. A woman
couldn't do such thing"
mo, indeed" agreed, cheerfully.
"If she happened to die with one on
her soul she would be sure to drop 1t
on the way to the burying ground"
And as long as men continue to
have Bluebeard's Closets" pursued
Polly, ignoring me, women will con-
tinue to pry into them. That is the
penalty of keeping your tender mem
cries and your scalps lying about"
and she resumed her rummagng with
al air Of having settled the question.
watched her from the depths of my
Morris chair-and of despair-with
what would have been a sinking heart
had not the sight of her elbows be-
meath rolled-up sleeves and of her
curls peeping out from a ridiculously
small and useless dust-cap lightened it.
Every man" resumed, has a
Bluebeard's closet--a holy of holes,
whether he keeps scalps and corpses