le, but it can hardly be,
darling, that you can go on much longer without coming into contact with
others; and then, more and more, you must realize that you are cut off
from much that other girls may enjoy."

"Why?" questioned Erica. "Why can't they be friendly? Why must they cut
us off from everything?"

"It does seem unjust; but you must remember that we belong to an
unpopular minority."

"But if I belonged to the larger party, I would at least be just to
the smaller," said Erica. "How can they expect us to think their system
beautiful when the very first thing they show us is hatred and meanness.
Oh! If I belonged to the other side I would show them how different it
might be."

"I believe you would," said the mother, smiling a little at the idea,
and at the vehemence of the speaker. "But, as it is, Erica, I am afraid
you must school yourself to endure. After all, I fancy you will be glad
to share so soon in your father's vexations."

"Yes," said Erica, pushing back the hair from her forehead, and giving
herself a kind of mental shaking. "I am glad of that. After all, they
can't spoil the best part of our lives! I shall go into the garden to
get rid of my bad temper; it doesn't rain now."

She struggled to her feet, picked up the little fur hat which had fallen
off, kissed her mother, and went out of the room.

The "garden" was Erica's favorite resort, her own particular property.
It was about fifteen feet square, and no one but a Londoner would have
bestowed on it so dignified a name. But Erica, who was of an inventive
turn, had contrived to make the most of the little patch of ground, had
induced ivy to grow on the ugly brick walls, and with infinite care and
satisfaction had nursed a few flowers and shrubs into tolerably healthy
though smutty life. In one of the corners, Tom Craigie, her favorite
cousin, had put up a rough wooden bench for her, and here she read and
dreamed as contentedly as if her "garden ground" had been fairy-land.
Here, too, she invariably came when anything had gone wrong, when the
endless troubles about money which had weighed upon her all her
life became a little less bearable than usual, or when some act of
discourtesy or harshness to her father had roused in her a tingling,
burning sense of indignation.

Erica was not one of those people who take life easily; things went very
deeply with her. In spite of her brightness and vivacity, in spite of
her readiness to see the ludicrous