The Teacup Club

By Elisa Armstrong Bengough

The Teacup Club' is an absorbing work about a women's club that talks about all the essential topics concerning women. The members discuss women in politics, men's real attitude toward women's progress and more. Excerpt from The Teacup Club "You can never be sure of pleasing a man," sighed the blue-eyed girl, who was calling on her dearest friend; "that is, if you try to please him," she added reflectively. "I suppose not," replied the girl with the dimple in her chin, "unless you succeed in concealing from him the fact that you are trying to please him."

• Language: English
• Publisher: DigiCat
• Release date: Jul 20, 2022
• ISBN: 8596547092766

Book preview

Elisa Armstrong Bengough

The Teacup Club

EAN 8596547092766

DigiCat, 2022

Contact: [e-mail]

Table of Contents

Chapter I The Teacup Club is Formed

Chapter II The Club Discusses Woman in Politics

Chapter III Man’s Real Attitude Toward the Progress of Woman

Chapter IV Concerning the Heroine of To-day

Chapter V The Club Settles Some Currency Problems

Chapter VI The Pioneer New Woman

Chapter VII Woman in Legislation

Chapter VIII An Executive Meeting

Chapter IX On the Use and Abuse of Political Power

Chapter X Woman as a Parliamentarian

Chapter XII The Club Investigates Theosophy

Chapter XII A Discussion and a Surprise

Chapter I

The Teacup Club is Formed

Table of Contents

You can never be sure of pleasing a man, sighed the blue-eyed girl, who was calling on her dearest friend; that is, if you try to please him, she added reflectively.

I suppose not, replied the girl with the dimple in her chin, unless you succeed in concealing from him the fact that you are trying to please him.

H’m; yes, I suppose there is something in that. However, we ought not to be hard on the poor things. The whole truth with the sterner sex is that they are never really practical. They—

How clever you are! cried the girl with the dimple in her chin, admiringly. Sometimes it does seem a pity that you are to marry Jack, instead of studying law, or—theosophy or something like that. Really, a very little study would fit you for the bar, but of course Jack—

I don’t intend to marry Jack, said the blue-eyed girl, calmly.

O, my goodness, does he know that?

I don’t know whether he knows that or not; but he does know that I’ve broken my engagement with him. I sent back his ring, and—

Dear, dear; that ring must have already cost its real value in messenger fees alone. Let me see, how many times have you sent—

And you may know that I am in earnest when I tell you that I am to pour tea for Nell to-morrow, and everybody will comment on its absence.

Do you want me to come over and stay with you to-night, dear? queried the girl with the dimple in her chin.

No, thank you, dear. I can just as well talk it over with you now. Of course it was Jack’s fault.

The girl with the dimple in her chin was silent.

Well, Emily Marshmallow, I did think that you, of all people, would sympathize with me, and—

Look here, Dorothy; of course I sympathize with you, but you remember when you quarreled with Jack the last time I—

I remember the last time that Jack quarreled with me, replied the blue-eyed girl, with dignity.

Well, I sympathized violently with you, and the consequence was that you wouldn’t speak to me for a month after you made up with him!

O, of course, if you really do sympathize with me, I—

You might know that. But tell me all about it. Is it that you want a new ring which is too expensive for anything save a peace offering? Or is Edwin coming home on a visit? Or has—

Nothing so frivolous, my dear; this is a serious matter. Jack—that is, Mr. Bittersweet, joined a new club without even letting me know that he meant to do it. I shouldn’t have minded if he had only told of it beforehand—

Of course not, dear; for then you could have made him give it up!

Exactly. Well, when I did find it out, I told him that I plainly saw he did not really love me, and that it was lucky I had discovered the fact before it was too late!

How very original you are! murmured the girl with the dimple in her chin. Go on, dear.

Yes, it is all over and I never was so hap—happy in my life! Where is my hand—handkerchief? I—I got s—something in my eye on the way here, and—

Here it is, dear, and let me draw down the window shade, so the light will not hurt your poor eye.

You needn’t, dear. I saw them coming up the street a minute or two ago and all I’ve got to say is, that if Jack Bittersweet thinks he can make me jealous by parading up and down with a made-up thing like Frances, he is very much mistaken!

I suppose you have coaxed Edwin’s sister to write and tell him that you have broken with Jack? queried the girl with the dimple in her chin.

No, I haven’t. I did that last time and he was so unpleasant after we made up!

Who was unpleasant? Jack?

Of course not, goosie. A man is always nicer than usual just after making up. No, it was Edwin; he—men are so awfully selfish, you know! Just because I was nice to him while I was angry with Jack, he imagined I had treated him badly—did you ever hear of such a thing? How did he ever expect me to bring Jack to his senses in time for the opera season, without a little jealousy as an incentive?

Well, you know, men are so awfully vain that he probably thought—

That I really liked him? Perhaps he did. I never thought of that. Still, badly as he has behaved, I can’t help a kindly feeling for him. You see, I had such a lovely new gown for the opera and everybody knew that I expected to go often, so—

You might even have had to give in and acknowledge that you were wrong, but for Edwin!

No, dear, replied the blue-eyed girl, with great dignity. Never that. I really expected to marry Jack, you know, and it would never have done to establish such a precedent. How could I ever expect a happy married life, if I began it by acknowledging that I could ever be in the wrong?

Very true, dear. By the way, do you think a peep at my lovely new waist would do you any good?

You seem to have misunderstood me entirely, retorted the blue-eyed girl, severely, I am feeling quite happy. Indeed, I don’t know that I ever felt happier in my life, unless it was the day upon which I was mistaken for my younger sister!

But what are you going to do in regard to Jack?

Why, Emily Marshmallow, how stupid you are to-day! You seem to imagine that I want to be flattered, like a man, by being asked to explain things. I told you, didn’t I? that Jack and I quarreled about his membership in a new club. Very well, I too, have decided to join a club!

Humph, that isn’t a bad idea. But what kind of a club? An Ibsen or a Browning one, I suppose. I notice that men dislike particularly to have us members of really intellectual clubs.

Well, I did think of either an Ibsen or a Symphony club, but neither of them just seemed to suit me, so—well, the fact is that I’ve decided to found a club of my own.

But even then you can’t always have it to suit you, because the other members—

Oh, yes, I shall dear. You see, I’ll make all the—the by-laws and resolutions just as I want them, before I invite any one to join the club. I think I shall ask Evelyn to be the president, because she is married and accustomed already to making somebody do as she wishes.

Dear, dear, I’m only afraid that you are too clever to—

Succeed? Not quite so bad as that, I hope. Now, you see, the chief objection to Jack’s new club was that he wouldn’t tell me anything about it. Said he didn’t know just what its purpose was. As if a man would join a club without knowing—

I begin to see now. You mean to keep the purpose of your own club a secret, too?

That’s just it, and when Jack hears how nice it is, he’ll find out that we are a great deal cleverer than he thinks. I shall make the membership for life too, so—

But you haven’t even told me the purpose of the club yet.

The Advancement of Woman, dear. Jack hates advanced women and when I make up with him—

But you said a moment ago that you would never—

Good gracious, Emily, cried the blue-eyed girl, hastily, do stop talking a moment and let me get in a word edgewise: I’ve been trying for half an hour to get a chance to ask you where the new waist you offered to show me, is, and I can’t—

Here it is in my wardrobe and isn’t it a dream? You may try it on, if you like.

Thank you, dear; but no. I care so little for such frivolities, now that I have come to enjoy the real intellectual life. Did you ever see such darling sleeves? It does seem that a girl who could not be happy in them must—

Have at least a boil on her chin! Yes, doesn’t it? But really, Dorothy, you make me ashamed of caring so much for such vanities. Why, those very sleeves cost me two whole nights’ rest!

Never mind about that, dear; we can’t all be intellectual. Look here, Emily Marshmallow, if you’ll promise never to breathe it as long as you live, I’ll tell you the last mean thing that Frances—

Oh, do! She has a new gown that would arouse the envy of Dr. Mary Walker. All chiffon, spangles, embroidery and—

I know. My story has reference to that very gown. You know how very mysterious she always is about her new things!

M’hm. As if anybody cared to know about them! Do tell me if her waist is made—

Well, I—you see, it was this way: I knew she was having her new gown made at Madame’s, and I accidentally discovered that she was to be fitted on Friday at two.

Oh, I see. Then, you called upon Frances at one o’clock, thinking that she’d take you along, rather than risk offending Madame by being late?

No; Frances isn’t afraid of Madame—she doesn’t owe her anything. I just happened in at Madame’s at half-past two. They told me she was busy, but I said I knew she wouldn’t mind if I stepped into the fitting-room for a minute, as I had a letter from Paris and wanted to tell her all about the new skirts.

Oh, you clever thing!

Yes. So in I bounced, and there stood Frances, all in billowy waves of turquoise blue and—

But I thought her new gown was green and white, with—

And you should have seen how sweetly she smiled. So sweetly that I knew she was wild with rage!

But did you make it right with the Madame? Did—

Pretended that I must have left the Paris letter at home, and told her I’d fetch it the next day. Then, after a good, long look at Frances, I came away and—

And ran in to tell all the other girls how her new gown was made?

M’hm. Annie first: you know, she hasn’t a bit of originality and she said, at once, that she’d have her new one just like it. Then, I dropped in at Evelyn’s tea and—

Told all the others, too. M’hm.

Yes. But what do you think that cat, Frances, had done? She’d been there before me and told them all that I had come into the fitting-room out of sheer curiosity—I curious, the idea! And the gown she was trying on was not her own, after all, she said, but one about which Madame had asked her opinion and—

Gracious, do you suppose that was the truth?

Alas, I know it; groaned the blue-eyed girl, it belonged to Jack’s sister, Effie! Now, Effie detests Annie and when she sees her in a gown which is an exact reproduction of her own, she will—

Won’t she, though? Well, my dear, Effie was an unknown quantity before, but now you may depend upon one thing—she will use any influence she may have with Jack against you.

True. And all because of such a silly thing, too! But, then, people are so frivolous. Well, you will join my new club, won’t you?

Mercy, yes. You had better invite Frances, too; she will tell Effie all about it, and the first time Effie is offended with Jack, she will tell him, thinking to annoy you both—

I shall, though it is hardly necessary, either, for, once started, everybody will talk of nothing else. But, whatever you do, don’t tell Dick a word about it. Evelyn’s husband is sure to tell him, anyhow, and then he can’t say that women never keep secrets.

What utter nonsense. Of course women can keep secrets! Why, I once knew a girl intimately for two whole years and in all that time she never told me that her curls were false. I wouldn’t have known it to this day, if I hadn’t walked into her room one day when she had washed them and hung them up to dry. I’ve told that story to a dozen men, and I’ve never yet found one of them magnanimous enough to acknowledge that it proved my point!

You can’t prove anything to a man, dear, unless he wants it proved. Well, I must go. You’ll not fail me at the first meeting of the Teacup club, then?

The Teacup club, said the girl with the dimple in her chin, disappointedly, Why I thought it was to be a really intellectual club, and—

So it is. But, you know, real merit is always modest. If a lot of men get up such a thing, they give it a six-syllabled name; but we wish to evade, rather than seek, notoriety and, besides, as I said before, once we get it started, the whole town will talk of nothing else!

It fell upon a bright sunshiny day, and the meeting for the organization of the Teacup club was well attended.

And all the girls are wearing their newest gowns, too, whispered the blue-eyed girl to the girl with the dimple in her chin, that shows that they appreciate the importance of the undertaking.

And what an awfully becoming hat you are wearing, said the girl with the dimple in her chin. If I owned such a milliner’s dream I should not mind anything that could happen to me.

Which means that you have something unpleasant to tell me, said the blue-eyed girl. You need not be uneasy, she added, I’ll not move a muscle, for Frances is looking this way.

Well, then, I heard her tell Nell that Jack comes to her almost every day for sympathy and—

Humph. When a man says ‘sympathy’ he means flattery! Is that all?

All? Why I thought—

"Yes, dear. You see, I thought perhaps you had stronger proof than her own assertion. Why, Frances, dear, how well you are looking to-day! I have not seen you for such an age that I thought you must