his work; to carry it
further if I may. But I must know.'

Her aunt had been listening with growing interest, and with growing
respect too, for she realised the intense earnestness which lay behind
the girl's words and her immediate purpose. Her voice and manner were
both softened:

'But, my dear, surely it is not necessary to go into the Court to know
these things. The results of each case become known.'

'That is just it, Auntie,' she answered quickly. 'The magistrates have
to hear the two sides of the case before even they can make up their
minds. I want to hear both sides, too! If people are guilty, I want to
know the cause of their guilt. If they are innocent, I want to know what
the circumstances can be which make innocence look like guilt. In my own
daily life I may be in the way of just such judgments; and surely it is
only right that judgment should be just!'

Again she paused; there rose before her mind that conversation in the
churchyard when Harold had said that it was difficult for women to be
just.

Miss Rowly reflected too. She was becoming convinced that in principle
the girl was right. But the details were repugnant as ever to her;
concentrating her mind on the point where she felt the ground firm under
her, she made her objection:

'But, Stephen dear, there are so many cases that are sordid and painful!'

'The more need to know of sordid things; if sordidness plays so important
a part in the tragedy of their lives!'

'But there are cases which are not within a woman's province. Cases that
touch sin . . . '

'What kind of sin do you mean? Surely all wrong-doing is sin!' The old
lady was embarrassed. Not by the fact, for she had been for too many
years the mistress of a great household not to know something of the
subject on which she spoke, but that she had to speak of such a matter to
the young girl whom she so loved.

'The sin, my dear, of . . . of woman's wrong-doing . . . as woman . . .
of motherhood, without marriage!' All Stephen's nature seemed to rise in
revolt.

'Why, Auntie,' she spoke out at once, 'you yourself show the want of the
very experience I look for!'

'How? what?' asked the old lady amazed and bristling. Stephen took her
hand and held it affectionately as she spoke:

'You speak of a woman's wrong-doing, when surely it is a man's as well.
There does not seem to be blame for him who is the more guilty. Only for
poor women! . . . And, Auntie dear, it i