d you
were to insist on wearing caps. Mrs. Morton was quite embarrassed; she
said she would never have mentioned such a thing."

"But I have set my heart on wearing them, Aunt Agatha," I returned, very
quickly; "you have no idea how nice I shall look in a neat bib apron
over my dark print gown, and a regular cap such as hospital nurses wear.
I should be quite disappointed if I did not carry out that part of my
programme; the only thing that troubles me is the smallness of my
salary--I mean wages. Thirty pounds a year will never make my fortune."

"You cannot ask more with a good conscience, Merle; you have never been
out before, and have no experience. Mrs. Morton said herself that her
husband had promised to raise it at the end of six months if you proved
yourself competent; it is quite as much as a nursery governess's
salary."

"Oh, I am not mercenary," I replied, hastily, "and I shall save out of
thirty pounds a year. I must keep a nice dress for my home visits and
for Sundays, though it is dreadful to think that I shall not always go
to church every Sunday until little Joyce is older; that will be a sad
deprivation."

"Yes, my poor child, but you must not speak as though this were the only
serious drawback; you will find plenty of difficulties in your position;
even Mrs. Morton confessed that."

"The world is full of difficulties," I returned, loftily; "there have
been thorns and briars ever since Adam's time. Do you remember your
favourite fable of the old man and the bundle of sticks, Aunt Agatha? I
mean to treat my difficulties in the same way he managed his. I shall
break each stick singly."

She smiled approvingly at this, and then, as Uncle Keith's knock reached
her ear, she rose quickly and went out of the room.

The moment I was left alone my assumed briskness of manner dropped into
the mental dishabille that we wear for our own private use and comfort.
Those two had always so much to say to each other that I was sure of at
least half an hour's solitude, and in some moods self is the finest
company. Yes, I had destroyed my boats, and now my motto must be
"Forward!" This afternoon I had pledged myself to a new service--a
service of self-renunciation and patient labour, undertaken--yes, I dare
to say it--for the welfare of the large sisterhood of waiting and
working women. A servant? No, a soldier; for I should be one among the
vanguard, who strive to make a breach in the great fortress of
conventiona