to try. But when he's tied down with a lot of work at
the school, then he uses every spare moment and gets something
done--'just to spite the devil.'"

She smiled drolly.

"You'll see when it comes."

Milly looked unconvinced and said something about "the unfair burden on
women," the sort of talk her more advanced women friends were beginning
to indulge in. Mrs. Reddon had other views.

"It's the natural thing," she persisted. "If I didn't want children for
myself, I'd have 'em anyway for Sam."

"Does he like babies?"

"Not especially. Few men do at first. But it trains him. And it makes a
hold in the world for him."

"What do you mean?"

"Children make a home--you have to have one. The man can't run away and
forget it."

She smiled with her droll expression of worldly wisdom.

"Sam would be in mischief half the time, if it weren't for us. He'd be
running here and there, sitting up all hours, wasting his energies
smoking and drinking with everybody he met--and now he can't--very
much."

"But--but--how about you?"

"Oh," the little woman continued calmly, "I don't flatter myself that I
could hold my husband long alone, without the children." She looked
Milly straight in the eyes and smiled. "Few women can, you know."

"I don't see why not."

"They get used to us--in every way--and want change, don't you see that?
They know every idea we have, every habit, every look good and
bad--clever men, especially."

"So we know them!"

"Of course! But women don't like change, variety--the best of us don't.
We aren't venturesome. Men are, you see, and that's the difference.... I
don't know that we mightn't become so if we had the chance, but we've
been deprived of it for so long that we have lost the courage, the
desire for change almost. What we know we cling to, isn't that so?"

She rose to capture the wandering Elsie.

"I must go back now to get Sam's _dejeuner_. Won't you come? He'd love
to see you--he often speaks about you and your husband."

Milly accepted readily enough. Although she did not agree with all that
Marion Reddon had said, she was soothed by the talk, and she had a
curiosity to see the Reddon _menage_ in operation.

"So," she remarked, as they passed through the great gilt gate out to
the noisy street, "you think a woman should have children to keep a man
true to her."

"Tied to her," Marion Reddon emended, "and truer than he otherwise might
be. Then they are something in case the hus