cular, but she
seems quite satisfied. I hope she'll see you some day, and then she'll
love you on her own account."

"Suppose she didn't?" hazarded Aldred.

"She couldn't help it. Mother and I have just the same tastes; we admire
courage and spirit, and people who do things in the world. Nearly all
Mother's friends are interesting in some way. Mr. Joyce is an explorer,
and Mr. Hall has done grand temperance work; Miss Abercombie is an
artist, and Miss Verney is helping to run a settlement in the slums.
Mother says it does her good to know them, and spurs her on to try to do
more herself."

"What does she do?"

"Oh, heaps! No one could live a busier life than Mother. She's president
of ever so many societies and guilds! She looks after poor girls, and
finds employment for them, and sends them to the country when they need
holidays. Then, in our own village there are the Orphanage and the
Cottage Hospital to visit, and the district nurse and the deaconess to
help, and clothing clubs and local charities to manage. She opens
bazaars, and gives the prizes at schools, and acts as judge at flower
shows. When Father was in Parliament it was really dreadful; Mother
could hardly get through her enormously long list. But he lost his seat
at the last election, and she has had a little easier time since then."

"But need she do it, if she doesn't like it?" objected Aldred.

There was a puzzled look on Mabel's face as she answered: "You, of all
people, to ask such a question! Of course, she feels bound to give what
help she can. She says her social influence is her one talent, and she
must use it wherever a good cause needs a champion. She would be
terribly missed, if she stopped supporting those various societies. It's
what I'm to take up myself when I leave school. You, I expect, will go
in for some splendid work, like Florence Nightingale, or Sister Dora. I
have a presentiment that your name will be handed down to fame."

The idea of devoting her life to such self-sacrifice absolutely
staggered Aldred. She did not attempt, however, to shatter Mabel's
dreams for her future, but only gave an ambiguous reply. When her friend
was in this exalted mood, she evidently did not like to be checked, and
the least hint that her high ideals were not shared would make a little
rift within the lute, and destroy her confidence.

Now that she had secured what she considered her rightful place at
Birkwood, Aldred was thoroughly happy in he