nd that alters the state of the
case at once. The wife with money says to people: Come here, and be
my slaves. Toil for me, whilst I am enjoying myself in ways that Dame
Nature wouldn't allow. I want to read, to play music, to see my friends,
to see the world. Unless you will slave for me, I can't budge from
nursery and kitchen.--Isn't it a queer thing?'

The less sophisticated woman had a difficulty in catching Nancy's point
of view. She began to argue that domestic service was no slavery.

'But it _comes_ to that,' Nancy insisted. 'And what I mean is, that the
thought has made me far more contented than I was at first. After all,
one can put up with a great deal, if you feel you're obeying a law of
Nature. Now, I have brains, and I should like to use them; but Nature
says that's not so important as bringing up the little child to whom I
have given life. One thought that troubles me is, that every generation
of women is sacrificed to the generation that follows; and of course
that's why women are so inferior to men. But then again, Nature says
that women are born _only_ to be sacrificed. I always come round to
that. I don't like it, but I am bound to believe it.'

'Children grow up,' said Mary, 'and then mothers are free.'

'Free to do what? To think of what they _might_ have done in the best
years of their life.'

It was not said discontentedly; Nancy's mood seemed to be singularly
calm and philosophical. She propped her chin on her hand, and gazed at
the fire.

'Well,' remarked Mary, with a smile, 'you, at all events, are not one of
the poorest women. All seems to be going well, and you will be able, I
am sure, to get all the help you need.'

'Perhaps. But I shall never feel quiet in my conscience. I shall feel
as if I had defeated Nature by a trick, and fear that she'll somehow be
revenged on me.'

This was quite beyond Mary's scope of thought, and she frankly said so.

'One thing I'm quite sure of, Nancy,' she added, 'and that is, that
education makes life very much harder to live. That's why I don't
hold with educating the poor--not beyond reading and writing. Without
education, life is very plain, though it may be a struggle. But from
what I have seen of highly-taught people, I'm very sure they suffer
worse in their minds than the poor ever do in their bodies.'

Nancy interrupted her.

'Hush! Was that baby?'

'Only the wind, I think.'

Not content, Nancy went to the foot of the stairs. Whilst she