Mrs. Mulbridge immovably. "Did her
mother like her studying for a doctor?"

"Yes, I understand so. Her mother is progressive she believes in the
advancement of women; she thinks the men would oppress them if they got
a chance."

"If one half the bold things that are running about the country had
masters it would be the best thing," said Mrs. Mulbridge, opening the
lid of the coffee-pot, and clapping it to with force, after a glance
inside.

"That's where Mrs. Green wouldn't agree with you. Perhaps because it
would make the bold things happy to have masters, though she does n't
say so. Probably she wants the women to have women doctors so they won't
be so well, and can have more time to think whether they have been good
or not. You ought to hear some of the ladies over there talk, mother."

"I have heard enough of their talk."

"Well, you ought to hear Miss Gleason. There are very few things that
Miss Gleason does n't think can be done with cut flowers, from a wedding
to a funeral."

Mrs. Mulbridge perceived that her son was speaking figuratively of Miss
Gleason's sentimentality, but she was not very patient with the sketch
he, enjoyed giving of her. "Is she a friend of that Breen girl's?" she
interrupted to ask.

"She's an humble friend, an admirer, a worshipper. The Breen girl is her
ideal woman. She thinks the Breen girl is so superior to any man living
that she would like to make a match for her." His mother glanced sharply
at him, but he went on in the tone of easy generalization, and with a
certain pleasure in the projection of these strange figures against
her distorting imagination: "You see, mother, that the most advanced
thinkers among those ladies are not so very different, after all, from
you old-fashioned people. When they try to think of the greatest good
fortune that can befall an ideal woman, it is to have her married. The
only trouble is to find a man good enough; and if they can't find one,
they're apt to invent one. They have strong imaginations."

"I should think they would make you sick, amongst them," said his
mother. "Are you going to have anything more to eat?" she asked, with a
housekeeper's latent impatience to get her table cleared away.

"Yes," said Dr. Mulbridge; "I have n't finished yet. And I'm in no hurry
this morning. Sit still, mother; I want you to hear something more about
my lady friends at Jocelyn's. Dr. Breen's mother and Miss Gleason don't
feel alike about her. Her mothe