llness, and Fanny in hers, I have done nothing worth naming as work."

"That same nursing was not a little. And do you call the housekeeping
nothing? It is all very well, Fanny's jingling her keys, and playing
lady of the house, but we all know who has the care and trouble. If
last year has nothing to show for work, I think you may make the same
complaint of all the years that went before. It is not that you are
getting weary of the `woman's work, that is never done,' is it, dear?"

"No, Will. I hope not. I think not. But this last year has been very
different from all former years. I used to have something definite to
do, something that no one else could do as well. I cannot explain it.
You would laugh at the trifles that make the difference."

"I see one difference," said Will. "You have the trouble, and Fanny has
the credit."

"No, Will. Don't say that I don't think that troubles me. It ought
not; but it is not good for Fanny, to allow her to suppose she has the
responsibility and care, when she has not really. And it is not fair to
her. When the time comes that she must have them, she will feel the
trouble all the more for her present delusion. And she is learning
nothing. She is utterly careless about details, and complicates matters
when she thinks she is doing most, though, I must say, Nelly is very
tolerant of the `whims' of her young mistress, and makes the best of
everything. But Will, all this must sound to you like finding fault
with Fanny, and indeed, I don't wish to do anything so disagreeable."

"I am sure you do not, Graeme. I think I can understand your troubles,
but I am afraid I cannot tell you how to help them."

"No, Will. The kind of life we are living is not good for any of us.
What I want for myself is some kind of real work to do. And I want it
for Rose."

"But, Graeme, you would never surely think of going away,--I mean, to
stay always?"

"Why not? We are not needed here, Rose and I. No, Will, I don't think
it is that I am growing tired of `woman's work.' It was very simple,
humble work I used to do, trifles, odds and ends of the work of life;
stitching and mending, sweeping and dusting, singing and playing,
reading and talking, each a trifling matter, taken by itself. But of
such trifles is made up the life's work of thousands of women, far wiser
and better than I am; and I was content with it. It helped to make a
happy home, and that was much."

"You have fo