I fancy Veronica is going to be an authoress. Her mother thinks this may account for many things about her that have been troubling us.
The story never got far. It was laid aside for the more alluring work of play-writing, and apparently forgotten. I came across the copy-book containing her "Rough Notes" the other day. There is decided flavour about them. I transcribe selections; the spelling, as before, being my own.
"The scene is laid in the Moon. But everything is just the same as down here. With one exception. The children rule. The grown-ups do not like it. But they cannot help it. Something has happened to them. They don't know what. And the world is as it used to be. In the sweet old story-books. Before sin came. There are fairies that dance o' nights. And Witches. That lure you. And then turn you into things. And a dragon who lives in a cave. And springs out at people. And eats them. So that you have to be careful. And all the animals talk. And there are giants. And lots of magic. And it is the children who know everything. And what to do for it. And they have to teach the grown-ups. And the grown-ups don't believe half of it. And are far too fond of arguing. Which is a sore trial to the children. But they have patience, and are just.
"Of course the grown-ups have to go to school. They have much to learn. Poor things! And they hate it. They take no interest in fairy lore. And what would happen to them if they got wrecked on a Desert Island they don't seem to care. And then there are languages.
What they will need when they come to be children. And have to talk to all the animals. And magic. Which is deep. And they hate it.
And say it is rot. They are full of tricks. One catches them reading trashy novels. Under the desk. All about love. Which is wasting their children's money. And God knows it is hard enough to earn. But the children are not angry with them. Remembering how they felt themselves. When they were grown up. Only firm.
"The children give them plenty of holidays. Because holidays are good for everyone. They freshen you up. But the grown-ups are very stupid. And do not care for sensible games. Such as Indians. And Pirates. What would sharpen their faculties. And so fit them for the future. They only care to play with a ball. Which is of no help. To the stern realities of life. Or talk. Lord, how they talk!
"There is one grown-up. Who is very clever. He can talk about everything. But it leads to nothing. And spoils the party. So they send him to bed. And there are two grown-ups. A male and a female.
And they talk love. All the time. Even on fine days. Which is maudlin. But the children are patient with them. Knowing it takes all sorts. To make a world. And trusting they will grow out of it.
And of course there are grown-ups who are good. And a comfort to their children.
"And everything the children like is good. And wholesome. And everything the grown-ups like is bad for them. AND THEY MUSTN'T HAVE IT. They clamour for tea and coffee. What undermines their nervous system. And waste their money in the tuck shop. Upon chops. And turtle soup. And the children have to put them to bed. And give them pills. Till they feel better.
"There is a little girl named Prue. Who lives with a little boy named Simon. They mean well. But haven't much sense. They have two grown-ups. A male and a female. Named Peter and Martha.
Respectively. They are just the ordinary grown-ups. Neither better nor worse. And much might be done with them. By kindness. But Prue and Simon GO THE WRONG WAY TO WORK. It is blame blame all day long.
But as for praise. Oh never!
"One summer's day Prue and Simon take Peter for a walk. In the country. And they meet a cow. And they think this a good opportunity. To test Peter's knowledge. Of languages. So they tell him to talk to the cow. And he talks to the cow. And the cow don't understand him. And he don't understand the cow. And they are mad with him. 'What is the use,' they say. 'Of our paying expensive fees. To have you taught the language. By a first-class cow. And when you come out into the country. You can't talk it.' And he says he did talk it. But they will not listen to him. But go on raving.
And in the end it turns out. IT WAS A JERSEY COW! What talked a dialect. So of course he couldn't understand it. But did they apologise? Oh dear no.
"Another time. One morning at breakfast. Martha didn't like her raspberry vinegar. So she didn't drink it. And Simon came into the nursery. And he saw that Martha hadn't drunk her raspberry vinegar.
And he asked her why. And she said she didn't like it. Because it was nasty. And he said it wasn't nasty. And that she OUGHT to like it. And how it was shocking. The way grown-ups nowadays grumbled.
At good wholesome food. Provided for them by their too-indulgent children. And how when HE was a grown-up. He would never have dared. And so on. All in the usual style. And to prove it wasn't nasty. He poured himself out a cupful. And drank it off. In a gulp.
And he said it was delicious. And turned pale. And left the room.
"And Prue came into the nursery. And she saw that Martha hadn't drunk her raspberry vinegar. And she asked her why. And Martha told her how she didn't like it. Because it was nasty. And Prue told her she ought to be ashamed of herself. For not liking it. Because it was good for her. And really very nice. And anyhow she'd GOT to like it. And not get stuffing herself up with messy tea and coffee.
Because she wouldn't have it. And there was an end of it. And so on. And to prove it was all right. She poured herself out a cupful.
And drank it off. In a gulp. And she said there was nothing wrong with it. Nothing whatever. And turned pale. And left the room.
"And it wasn't raspberry vinegar. But just red ink. What had got put into the raspberry vinegar decanter. By an oversight. And they needn't have been ill at all. If only they had listened. To poor old Martha. But no. That was their fixed idea. That grown-ups hadn't any sense. At all. What is a mistake. As one perceives."