MY ASTONISHING DODO
She was twenty-six, and owned it cheerfully, the day I met her.
This prejudiced me in her favor at once, for I prize honesty in women, and on this point it is unusual. She did not, it is true, share largely in my special artistic tastes, or, to any great extent, in my social circle; but she was a fine wholesome sweet woman, cheerful and strong, and I wished to make a friend of her. I greatly prized my good friends among women, for I had conscientious views against marrying on a small salary.
Later it appeared that she had other and different views, but she did not mention them then.
Dorothea was her name. Her family called her Dora, her intimate friends, Dolly, but I called her Dodo, just between ourselves.
A very good-looking girl was Dodo, though not showy; and in no way distinguished in dress, which rather annoyed me at first; for I have a great admiration for a well-gowned, well-groomed woman.
My ideas on matrimony were strongly colored by certain facts and figures given me by an old college friend of mine. He was a nice fellow, and his wife one of the loveliest girls of our set, though rather delicate. They lived very comfortably in a quiet way, with a few good books and pictures, and four little ones.
“It’s a thousand dollars a year for the first year for each baby,” he told me, “and five hundred a year afterward.”
I was astonished. I had no idea the little things cost so much.
“There’s the trained nurse for your wife,” he went on, “at $25.00 a week for four weeks; and then the trained nurse for your baby, at $15.00 a week for forty-eight weeks; that makes $820.00. Then the doctor’s bills, the clothes and so on—with the certified milk—easily take up the rest.”
“Isn’t fifteen dollars a week a good deal for a child’s nurse?” I asked.
“What do you pay a good stenographer?” he demanded.
“Why, a special one gets $20.00,” I admitted. “But that work needs training and experience.”
“So does taking care of babies!” he cried triumphantly. “Don’t try to save on babies, Morton; it’s poor economy.”
I liked his point of view, and admired his family extremely. His wife was one of those sympathetic appreciative women who so help a man in his work. But the prospects of my own marriage seemed remote. That was why I was so glad of a good wholesome companionable friend like Dodo.
We were so calmly intimate that I soon grew to discuss many of my ideas and plans with her. She was much interested in the figures given by my friend, and got me to set them all down for her. He had twice my salary, and not a cent left at the year’s end; and they were not in “society” either. Five hundred dollars was allowed for his personal expenses, and the same for her; little enough to dress on nowadays, he had assured me, with all amusements, travel, books and periodicals, and dentist bills, included.
“I don’t think it ought to cost so much,” said Dodo.
She was a business woman, and followed the figures closely; and of course she appreciated the high views I held on the subject, and my self-denial, too.
I can’t tell to this day how it happened; but before I knew it we were engaged. I was almost sorry, for a long engagement is a strain on both parties; but Dodo cheered me up; she said we were really no worse off than we were before, and in some ways better. At times I fully agreed with her.
So we drifted along for about a year, and then, after a good deal of distant discussion, we suddenly got married.
I don’t recall now just why we so hastily concluded to do it; I seemed to be in a kind of dream; but anyway we did, and were absurdly happy about it, too.
“Don’t be a Goose, dear boy!” she said. “It isn’t wicked to be married.
And we’re quite old enough!”
“But we can’t afford it—you know we can’t,” I said. This was while we were camping out on our honey-vacation.
“Mr. Morton Howland,” said my wife; “don’t you worry one bit about affording it. I want you to understand that you’ve married a business woman.”
“But you’ve given up your position!” I cried, aghast. “Surely, you don’t think of going back!”
“I’ve given up one position,” she replied with calmness, “and taken another. And I mean to fill it. Now you go peacefully on earning what you did before, and leave the housekeeping business to me—will you, Dear?”
Naturally I had to; for I couldn’t keep house; even if I so desired I didn’t know how. But I had read so much and heard so much and seen so much of the difficulties of housekeeping for young married people, that I confess I was a good deal worried.
Toward the end of our trip I began to anticipate the burden of house-hunting.
“About where do you think we are going to live?” I tentatively inquired.
“At 384 Meter Avenue,” she promptly answered. I nearly dropped the paddle (we were canoeing at the moment), I was so astonished.
“That’s a good location—for cheap flats,” I said slowly. “Do you mean to say you’ve rented one, all by yourself?”
She smiled comfortingly. Lovely teeth had my Dodo, strong and white and even, though not small.
“Not quite so bad as that, Dear,” she answered, “but I’ve got the refusal. My friends the Scallens had it, and are moving out this Fall. It’s a new building, they had it all papered very prettily, and if you like it we can move in as soon as they leave—say a week after moving time—it will be cheaper then. We’ll look at it as soon as we return.”
We did. It seemed suitable enough; pleasant, and cheaper than I had thought possible. Indeed, I demurred a little on the question of style, and accessibility to friends; but Dodo said the people who really cared for us would come, and the people who did not could easily be spared.
We had married so hastily, right on the verge of vacation time, that I had hardly given a thought to furnishing but Dodo seemed to know just where to go and what to get; at much less cost than I had imagined.
She produced $250.00 from her bank account, which she had been saving for years she said. I put up about the same; and we had that little flat as pretty and comfortable as any home I ever saw.
She set her foot down about pictures though. “Time enough for those things when we can afford it,” she said, and we certainly could not afford it then.
Then was materialized from some foreign clime a neat, strong young woman to do our house-work, washing and all.
“She’s an apprentice,” said Dodo. “She is willing to learn housekeeping, and I am willing to teach her.”
“How do you come to be so competent in house-work?” said I; “I thought you were a bookkeeper.”
Then Dodo smiled her large bright smile. “Morton, dear,” she said, “I will now tell you a Secret! I have always intended to marry, and, as far as possible, I learned the business. I am a business woman, you know.”
She certainly did know her business. She kept the household accounts like—well, like what she was—an expert accountant. When she furnished the kitchen she installed a good reliable set of weights and measures. She weighed the ice and the bread, she measured the milk and the potatoes, and made firm, definite, accurate protests when things went wrong; even sending samples of queer cream to the Board of Health for analysis. What with my business stationery and her accurate figures our letters were strangely potent, and we were well supplied, while our friends sadly and tamely complained of imposture and extortion.
Her largest item of expense in furnishing was a first-class sewing machine, and a marvellous female figure, made to measure, which stood in a corner and served as a “cloak tree” when not in use.
“You don’t propose to make your own clothes, surely?” said I when this headless object appeared.
“Some of ’em,” she admitted, “you’ll see. Of course I can’t dress for society.”
Now I had prepared myself very conscientiously to meet the storms and shallows of early married life, as I had read about them; I was bound I would not bring home anybody to dinner without telephoning, and was prepared to assure my wife verbally, at least twice a day, that I loved her. She anticipated me on the dinner business, however.
“Look here!” she said, leading me to the pantry, when it was filled to her liking, and she showed me a special corner all marked off and labelled “For Emergencies.” There was a whole outfit of eatables and drinkables in glass and tin.
“Now do your worst!” she said triumphantly. “You can bring home six men in the middle of the night—and I’ll feed them! But you mustn’t do it two nights in succession, for I’d have to stock up again.”
As to tears and nervousness and “did I love her,” I was almost, sometimes, a bit disappointed in Dodo, she was so calm. She was happy, and I was happy, but it seemed to require no effort at all.
One morning I almost forgot, and left the elevator standing while I ran back to kiss her and say “I love you, dearest.” She held me off from her with her two strong hands and laughed tenderly. “Dear boy!” she said, “I mean you shall.”
I meditated on that all the way downtown.
She meant I should. Well, I did. And the next time one of my new-married friends circuitously asked for a bit of light on what was to him a dark and perplexing question, I suddenly felt very light-hearted about my domestic affairs. Somehow we hadn’t any troubles at all. Dodo kept well; we lived very comfortably and it cost far less than I had anticipated.
“How did you know how to train a servant?” I asked my wife.
“Dear,” said she, “I have admitted to you that I always intended to be married, when I found the man I could love and trust and honor.” (Dodo overestimates my virtues, of course.)
“Lots of girls intend to marry,” I interposed.
“Yes, I know they do,” she agreed, “they want to love and he loved, but they don’t learn their business! Now the business of house-work is not so abstruse nor so laborious, if you give your mind to it. I took an evening-course in domestic economy, read and studied some, and spent one vacation with an aunt of mine up in Vermont who ‘does her own work.’ The next vacation I did ours. I learned the trade in a small way.”
We had a lovely time that first year. She dressed fairly well, but the smallness of her expense account was a standing marvel, owing to the machine and the Headless One.
“Did you take a course in dressmaking, too?” I inquired.
“Yes, in another vacation.”
“You had the most industrious vacations of anyone I ever knew,” said I, “and the most varied.”
“I am no chicken, you see, my dear,” was her cheerful reply, “and I like to work. You work, why shouldn’t I?”
The only thing I had to criticize, if there was anything, was that Dodo wouldn’t go to the theatre and things like that, as often as I wanted her to. She said frankly that we couldn’t afford it, and why should I want to go out for amusement when we had such a happy home? So we stayed at home a good deal, made a few calls, and played cards together, and were very happy, of course.
All this time I was in more or less anxiety lest that thousand dollar baby should descend upon us before we were ready, for I had only six hundred in the bank now. Presently this dread event loomed awe-inspiringly on our horizon. I didn’t say anything to Dodo about my fears, she must on no account be rendered anxious, but I lay awake nights and sometimes got up furtively and walked the floor in my room, thinking how I should raise the money.
She heard me one night. “Dear!” she called softly. “What are you doing? Is it burglars?”
I reassured her on that point and she promptly reassured me on the other, as soon as she had made me tell her what I was worrying about.
“Why, bless you, dear,” she said, serenely, “you needn’t give a thought to that. I’ve got money in the bank for my baby.”
“I thought you spent all of it for the furnishings,” said I.
“Oh, that was the Furnishing Money! Cuddle down here, or you’ll get cold, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
So she explained in her calm strong cheerful way, with a little contented chuckle now and then, that she had always intended to be married.
“This is now no news,” I exclaimed severely, “tell me something different.”
“Well, in order to prepare for this Great Event,” she went on, “I learned about housework, as you have seen. I saved money enough to furnish a small flat and put that in one bank. And I also anticipated this not Impossible Contingency and saved more money and put it in another bank!”
“Why two banks, if a mere man may inquire?”
“It is well,” she replied sententiously, “not to have all one’s eggs in one basket.”
I lay still and meditated on this new revelation.
“Have you got a thousand dollars, if this Remote Relative may so far urge for information?”
“I have just that sum,” she replied.
“And, not to be impertinent, have you nine other thousands of dollars in nine other banks for nine other not Impossible Contingencies?”
She shook her head with determination. “Nine is an Impossible Contingency,” she replied. “No, I have but one thousand dollars in this bank. Now you be good, and continue to practice your business, into the details of which I do not press, and let me carry on the Baby Business, which is mine.”
It was a great load off my mind, and I slept well from that time on.
So did Dodo. She kept well, busy, placid, and cheerful. Once, I came home in a state of real terror. I had been learning, from one of my friends, and from books, of the terrible experience which lay before her. She saw that I was unusually intense in my affection and constantly regarded her with tender anxiety. “What is the matter with you, Morton?” said she. “I’m—worried,” I admitted. “I’ve been thinking—what if I should lose you! Oh Dodo! I’d rather have you than a thousand babies.”
“I should think you would,” said she calmly. “Now look here, Dear Boy! What are you worrying about? This is not an unusual enterprise I’ve embarked on; it’s the plain course of nature, easily fulfilled by all manner of lady creatures! Don’t you be afraid one bit, I’m not.”
She wasn’t. She kept her serene good cheer up to the last moment, had an efficient but inexpensive woman doctor, and presently was up again, still serene, with a Pink Person added to our family, of small size but of enormous importance.
Again I rather trembled for our peace and happiness, and mentally girded up my loins for wakeful nights of walking. No such troubles followed. We used separate rooms, and she kept the Pink Person in hers. Occasionally he made remarks in the night, but not for long. He was well, she was well—things went along very much as they did before.
I was “lost in wonder, love and praise” and especially in amazement at the continued cheapness of our living.
Suddenly a thought struck me. “Where’s ths nurse?” I demanded.
“The nurse? Why she left long ago. I kept her only for the month.”
“I mean the child’s nurse,” said I, “the fifteen dollar one.”
“Oh—I’m the child’s nurse,” said Dodo.
“You!” said I. “Do you mean to say you take all the care of this child yourself?”
“Why, of course,” said Dodo, “what’s a mother for?”
“But—the time it takes,” I protested, rather weakly.
“What do you expect me to do with my time, Morton?”
“Why, whatever you did before—This arrived.”
“I will not have my son alluded to as ‘This’!” said she severely. “Morton J. Hopkins, Jr., if you please. As to my time before? Why, I used it in preparing for time to come, of course. I have things ready for this youngster for three years ahead.”
“How about the certified milk?” I asked.
Dodo smiled a superior smile; “I certify the milk,” said she.
“Can you take care of the child and the house, too?”
“Bless you, Morton, ‘the care’ of a seven-room flat and a competent servant does not take more than an hour a day. And I market while I’m out with the baby.
“Do you mean to say you are going to push the perambulator yourself?”
“Why not?” she asked a little sharply, “surely a mother need not be ashamed of the company of her own child.”
“But you’ll be taken for a nurse—”
“I am a nurse! And proud of it!”
I gazed at her in my third access of deep amazement. “Do you mean to say that you took lessons in child culture, too?”
“Too? Why, I took lessons in child culture first of all. How often must I tell you, Morton, that I always intended to be married! Being married involves, to my mind, motherhood, that is what it is for! So naturally I prepared myself for the work I meant to do. I am a business woman, Morton, and this is my business.”
*
That was twenty years ago. We have five children. Morton, Jr., is in college. So is Dorothea second. Dodo means to put them all through, she says. My salary has increased, but not so fast as prices, and neither of them so fast as my family. None of those babies cost a thousand dollars the first year though, nor five hundred thereafter; Dodo’s thousand held out for the lot. We moved to a home in the suburbs, of course; that was only fair to the children. I live within my income always—we have but one servant still, and the children are all taught housework in the good old way. None of my friends has as devoted, as vigorous and—and—as successful a wife as I have. She is the incarnate spirit of all the Housewives and House-mothers of history and fiction. The only thing I miss in her—if I must own to missing anything—is companionship and sympathy outside of household affairs. My newspaper work—which she always calls “my business”—has remained a business. The literary aspirations I once had were long since laid aside as impracticable. And the only thing I miss in life beyond my home is, well—as a matter of fact, I don’t have any life beyond my home—except, of course, my business.
My friends are mostly co-commuters now. I couldn’t keep up with the set I used to know. As my wife said, she could ‘t dress for society, and, visibly, she couldn’t. We have few books, there isn’t any margin for luxuries, she says; and of course we can’t go to the plays and concerts in town. But these are unessentials—of course—as she says.
I am very proud of my home, my family, and my Amazing Dodo.