was saying to myself, `Has the poor child
got to go through all that for herself, as I have done?' Oh! Rosie,
dear! if I could only give you the benefit of all my vexed thoughts on
that very subject!"

"Well, why not? That is just what I want. Only, don't begin in that
discouraging way, about there being so few things a woman can do. I
know all that, already."

"We might go to Norman for a while together, at any rate," said Graeme,
feeling how impossible it would be to satisfy one another by what might
be said, since all could not be spoken between them.

"Yes. That is just what I said, at first. And we could see about it
there. We could much more easily make our plans, and carry them out
there, than here. And, in the meantime, we could find plenty to do in
Hilda's house with the children and all the rest. I wish we could go
soon."

And then she went over what she had often gone over before, the way of
life in their brother Norman's house--Hilda's housekeeping, and her way
with her children, and in society, and so on, Graeme asking questions,
and making remarks, in the hope that the conversation might not, for
this time, come back to the vexed question, of what women may do in the
world. It grew dark in the meantime, but they were waiting for Harry
and letters, and made no movement; and, by and by, Rose said, suddenly:

"I am sure you used to think about all this, Graeme--about woman's work,
and how stupid it is to live on in this way, `waiting at the pool,' as
Hannah Lovejoy used to say. I declare it is undignified, and puts
thoughts into people's heads, as though--. It would be different, if we
were living in our father's house, or, even, if we had money of our own.
You used to think so, yourself, Graeme. Why should Arthur and Harry do
everything for us?"

"Yes, I remember. When Fanny first came, I think I had as many thoughts
about all this as you have now. I was very restless, and discontented,
and determined to go away. I talked to Janet about it one night."

"And she convinced you that you were all wrong, I suppose," said Rose.
"And you were content ever after."

"No. I don't think she helped me much, at the time. But her great
doctrine of patience and quiet waiting, and circumstances together,
convinced me, afterward, that I did not need to go in search of my work,
as seemed to me then the thing to do. I found it ready at my hand,
though I could not see it then. Her wisdom was higher