intellect in adolescence--intellect finding its strength--intellect
in revolt against the tyranny of industrialism.

The staircase creaked softly, and following a knock at the door, Mrs.
Peachey entered with her arms full of bed-clothes.

"I am so sorry I kept you waiting, Mr. Treadwell, but I was obliged to
stop to speak to a caller. Oh, thank you. Do you really know how to make
up a bed? How very clever of you! I'm sure Mr. Peachey couldn't do such
a thing if his life depended upon it. Men are so helpless that it
surprises me--it really does--when they know how to do anything. Oh, of
course, you have lived about the world so much that you have had to
learn how to manage. And you've been abroad? How very interesting! Some
day when I have the time you must tell me about it. Not that I should
ever care to go myself, but I love to hear other people talk about their
travels. Professor Trimble--he lived over there a great many years--gave
a talk before the Ladies' Aid Society of our church, and everybody said
it was quite as instructive as going one's self. And then, too, one
escaped all the misery of seasickness."

All the time she was busily spreading his bed, while he assisted her
with what she described to her husband afterward as "the most charming
manner, just as if he enjoyed it." This charming manner, which was the
outward expression of an inborn kindliness, won her entirely to his side
before the bed-making was over. That any one so frank and pleasant, with
such nice boyish eyes, and so rich a colour, should prove untrustworthy,
was unbelievable to that part of her which ruled her judgment. And since
this ruling part was not reason, but instinct, she possessed, perhaps,
as infallible a guide to opinions as ever falls to the lot of erring
humanity. "I know he's all right. Don't ask me _how_ I know it, Mr.
Peachey," she observed while she brushed her hair for the night; "I
don't know how I know it, but I do know it."

Oliver, meanwhile, had thrown off his coat, and settled down to work
under the flickering gas, at the end of the mantelpiece. Inspiration had
seized him while he helped Mrs. Peachey make his bed, and his "charming
manner," which had at first been natural enough, had become at last
something of an effort. He was writing the second act of a play in
which he meant to supplant the pretty shams of the stage by the aspect
of sober reality. The play dealt with woman--with the new woman who has
grown so old