d
nothing but the purring of the wind, the gentle flapping of canvas, the
splash of the waves, the regular throb of the ship's propeller.
Conditions were ideal for day-dreams, and Grace was thinking.

As she idly watched the foaming water rush past the rail she thought how
pleasantly fate had planned her life. She might have been born poor and
compelled to work in a store for miserable wages, standing on her feet
behind a counter ten long and weary hours a day, forbidden to sit down
on pain of dismissal, bullied by arrogant employers, insulted by
inconsiderate customers. This she knew was the lot of thousands of girls
whose pale, tired faces had frequently aroused her sympathy when
shopping. She belonged to the small, lucky minority--the ruling
class--which by the power of its great wealth is able to enslave
nine-tenths of the human race. The world, she ruminated, was full of
unfortunates whose only fault was that they were born poor. Her mind
reverted to the handsome stoker whom they had dragged on board with such
little ceremony the day the ship sailed from New York. She wondered what
his life had been to force him to take to such an occupation, and what
had become of him. Perhaps at that very moment, while she sat there
surrounded by every luxury, he was suffering the agonies of the damned.
She reproached herself for not making inquiries after him. When she next
saw the captain she would certainly do so.

How different was her own life! Sailing along on this splendid ship,
with perfect weather and ideal surroundings, the world seemed to exist
only to afford her pleasure. If the sun shone brightly, it was only to
give her joy; if the soft winds blew, it was only to caress her cheek.
It seemed unjust. Things were not equal. At times she was sorry that her
father was so rich. Had he been poor, she would have had an incentive to
work hard and do something. Although she had everything she desired, she
was not really happy. She felt there was something wanting, and she
thought it was because her life lacked a definite aim. Other girls did
things--they painted pictures, wrote books, went on the stage. If her
father became bankrupt to-morrow, where would she be? A perfectly
useless member of society, ornamental, possibly, but quite useless. Only
two alternatives would be open to her--either to seek some humble
employment or throw herself in the arms of a rich man. She would not be
the first victim of the plutocracy which cl