rest of my
eloquence, died a natural death on my way home. "There are too many of
the poor things in this world, and the female market is overstocked.
They are invading telegraph offices, and treading on the heels of
business men, but sheer pride and stupidity prevent them from trying to
open nursery doors."

"Unladylike to be a servant," another imaginary objection on Uncle
Keith's part. "Oh, fie, Uncle Keith! this from you, who read your Bible
and go to church; and yet I remember a certain passage, 'Whosoever will
be chief among you let him be your servant,' which has hallowed the very
idea of service ever since.

"To serve others seems the very meaning of womanhood; in some sense, a
woman serves all the days of her life. No, I am not farfetched and
unpractical." Another supposed masculine tirade. "I have thought over
the whole thing most carefully. I am not only working for myself, but
for others. I want to open the eyes of my generation, and, like the
Challoners, to lead a new crusade against the mighty sham of
conventionality. Understand me, Uncle Keith, I do not say to these young
gentlewomen, put your pride in your pocket and wheel your perambulator
with the twins, or carry the baby into the park before the eyes of your
aristocratic acquaintance; that would be unnecessary and foolish; you
may leave that part to the under-nurse, who brings your meals and scours
your nurseries; I simply say to them, if you have no capacity for
teaching, if nature has unfitted you for other work, and you are too
proud and conscientious to live a dragging, dependent life under the
roof of some overburthened relative, take the charge of some
aristocratic nursery. Do not think it beneath your womanhood to feed and
wash and clothe an infant, or to watch over weak, toddling creatures.
Your work may be humble, but you will grow to love it, and if no one
else will put the theory to the test, I, Merle Fenton, will do so,
though I must take the plunge unaided, and alone."

But all these feeling observations were locked up in my own inner
consciousness, for during the remainder of the evening Uncle Keith
simply ignored the subject and read his book with a pretence of being
perfectly absorbed in it, though I am certain that his eyes twinkled
mischievously whenever he looked in my direction, as though he were
quite aware of my flood of repressed oratory.

I determined to have it out with Aunt Agatha, so I followed her into her
room, and as