and apron, please pack away Miss Moffatt
and Miss Glynn. Let us be Priscilla and Margaret. This is a whim of mine,
but I have a fancy for knowing what kind of _girls_ we are. No one can
tamper with us here. Dear old Mousey never gets above a dead level, or
below it. Practically we are alone and detached. Let us play--girls!
Nice, chummy girls. Do you know, I never had a friend in my life who
wasn't labelled and scheduled? I was sent to school where just such and
such girls were sent--girls proper for me to know. Often they were not,
but that was not considered so long as they wore their labels. It wasn't
deemed necessary for me, or my kind, to go to college: our lines of
action were chosen for us. Certain labelled men were presented; always
labels, labels! Even when I was running about with my label on I used to
have mad moments of longing to snatch all the hideous things off--my own
as well as others--and find out the truth! And here we are, you and I! I
do not want to know anything about you; I want to find out for myself, in
my own way. I want you to forget that I ever wore a tag. Did you ever
have a girl chum?"

"I think I know, now," Priscilla said quietly, "why this particular
little heaven was given to me. I never, in all my life, had a girl
friend. Think of that! I did not realize what I was missing until I--came
into your life. Actually, I never had a girl or woman friend in the sense
you mean. I was a lonely, weird little child; and then I--I came to the
training school; and the girls there did not like me--I was still
weird----"

"Now, Priscilla, I do not want to know anything more about you! I intend
to find you out for myself. Come, there's a boat down there, big enough
for you and me. Do you row?"

"Yes, and paddle."

"You lived near the water! Ha! ha!"

"And you do--not row, Margaret?"

"No."

"Then you have never lived at all. You must learn to use oars and a
paddle. It's when you have your own hand on the power that makes you
go--that you live."

Margaret Moffatt turned and looked at Priscilla.

"You say, haphazard, the most Orphic things. There are times when I can
imagine you before some shrine making an offering and chanting all sorts
of uncanny rites. Of course it is when one has her hand on her own
tiller, and is heading for what she wants, that she begins to--live. I
declare, I haven't felt so young in--twenty years! I'm twenty-five,
Priscilla. My father considers me on the danger-lin