We had as yet no work, so we hung about them in their
forest tasks; that was natural, too.

But when we began to talk about each couple having "homes" of our own,
they could not understand it.

"Our work takes us all around the country," explained Celis. "We cannot
live in one place all the time."

"We are together now," urged Alima, looking proudly at Terry's stalwart
nearness. (This was one of the times when they were "on," though
presently "off" again.)

"It's not the same thing at all," he insisted. "A man wants a home of
his own, with his wife and family in it."

"Staying in it? All the time?" asked Ellador. "Not imprisoned, surely!"

"Of course not! Living there--naturally," he answered.

"What does she do there--all the time?" Alima demanded. "What is her
work?"

Then Terry patiently explained again that our women did not work--with
reservations.

"But what do they do--if they have no work?" she persisted.

"They take care of the home--and the children."

"At the same time?" asked Ellador.

"Why yes. The children play about, and the mother has charge of it all.
There are servants, of course."

It seemed so obvious, so natural to Terry, that he always grew
impatient; but the girls were honestly anxious to understand.

"How many children do your women have?" Alima had her notebook out now,
and a rather firm set of lip. Terry began to dodge.

"There is no set number, my dear," he explained. "Some have more, some
have less."

"Some have none at all," I put in mischievously.

They pounced on this admission and soon wrung from us the general fact
that those women who had the most children had the least servants, and
those who had the most servants had the least children.

"There!" triumphed Alima. "One or two or no children, and three or four
servants. Now what do those women DO?"

We explained as best we might. We talked of "social duties,"
disingenuously banking on their not interpreting the words as we did; we
talked of hospitality, entertainment, and various "interests." All the
time we knew that to these large-minded women whose whole mental outlook
was so collective, the limitations of a wholly personal life were
inconceivable.

"We cannot really understand it," Ellador concluded. "We are only half
a people. We have our woman-ways and they have their man-ways and their
both-ways. We have worked out a system of living which is, of course,
limited. They must have a broader, richer, better