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The New Woman

No. 6—Miss Zena Jupp or Sweetness and Light

The representative of "Smad" found Miss Jupp at home, for a wonder. She was seated by the fire, having just washed her hair.

"Don't touch me, it's wet," she trilled coyly. Disclaiming any intention to wanton with the tangles in Naera's hair, our rather overcome interviewer stated his business. But first let me tell you about the embroidery. The heroine of my lay was busy with flying needles (or is that term only applied to knitting?) on a square of "material" at least six inches by four.

"Dishcloth?" I asked. "No, glass towel, you ass."

Now, fancy embroidering glass towels, and what funny things girls have in "the box."

On finding herself the subject of an interview, Zena was inclined to be reticent, and was far from her usual sweet, trilling self. However, it was found possible to extract her views on several topical subjects. First with regard to Constitutions. "Oh, I've never been so fed up in my life writing those beastly Constitutions. At first it was wonderful fun, but after a while I got sick of clauses and aims and objects and things. And the other members—the male ones. Eaton, so faultless, I felt like an abandoned wretch. Max and Ray, of course one groups them together. All hair and temperament and interminable arguments."

"I think that it's very nice to have a career. I have a career. I teach elocution, and if I can refrain from spending so much money on books and music, I am going to Sydney for the opening of the Bridge. You know I'm terrible. I simply can't save. I always mean to. Still, careers are not everything —J like homes, and embroidering glass towels, and making toffee. We worldly women must have some of the domestic virtues. Now I refuse to say anything about people at College. No, I mean it, and I'm not going to tell you what I think of Charlie Plank. Poor Charlie. I suppose it is the constant buzzing of telephones makes him look like that. He's got an engaged look, anyway. Let's talk about someone else, I hate small talk.

"Life is not such a bore as some people try to make out. They simply don't know how to enjoy themselves. As for the ills of life, they are of no account. Why worry, it might never happen—that's my philosophy.

"I have attended Study Circles of the S.C.M. There is nothing mysterious about them at all. My views on religion? No, thank you, I'm not answernig that one. Too difficult for a little girl. Oh! 'Varsity boys? Now that's better. I can't bear some of our supercilious ladies who say that there are no nice men at the University. Dozens of them. It embarrasses me sometimes to find full-blown 'Varsity men who were pupils of mine at the Tec. I feel really motherly towards some of them. Anyway, there are plenty of nice men, as I said before. No, i won't tell you their names. It is much better to like a man than to let him know you like him, and that's a tip to every woman."

At this stage the lady closed the interview by expressing the hope that the Women's Common Room would be calcimined. Presumably her hair had dried. Anyway, she conjured up a delicious supper, and sent a tired but happy reporter away with this story—such as it is.