t; then became quite serious again.

"I ain't doin' that," she said. "I never do. And I've no enmity against
all manner of fiddle-faddling, if folks have got nothin' better to do.
But 'tain't so with our girls. They work for their livin', and they've
got to work; and what I say is, they're in a way to get to hate work,
if they don't despise it, and in my judgment that's a poor business.
It's going the wrong way to be happy. Mother, they ought to marry
farmers; and they won't look at a farmer in all Shampuashuh, if you let
'em go on."

Lois remarked merrily that she did not want to look at a man anywhere.

"Then you ought. It's time. I'd like to see you married to a good,
solid man, who would learn you to talk of shorthorns and Berkshires.
Life's life, chickens; and it ain't the tinkle of a piano. All well
enough for your neighbour in the other room; but you're a different
sort."

Privately, Lois did not want to be of a different sort. The refinement,
the information, the accomplishments, the grace of manner, which in a
high degree belonged to Mrs. Barclay, seemed to her very desirable
possessions and endowments; and the mental life of a person so enriched
and gifted, appeared to her far to be preferred over a horizon bounded
by cheese and bed-quilts. Mrs. Marx was not herself a narrow-minded
woman, or one wanting in appreciation of knowledge and culture; but she
was also a shrewd business woman, and what she had seen at the Isles of
Shoals had possibly given her a key wherewith to find her way through
certain problems. She was not sure but Lois had been a little touched
by the attentions of that very handsome, fair-haired and elegant
gentleman who had done Mrs. Marx the honour to take her into his
confidence; she was jealous lest all this study of things unneeded in
Shampuashuh life might have a dim purpose of growing fitness for some
other. There she did Lois wrong, for no distant image of Mr. Caruthers
was connected in her niece's mind with the delight of the new
acquirements she was making; although Tom Caruthers had done his part,
I do not doubt, towards Lois's keen perception of the beauty and
advantage of such acquirements. She was not thinking of Tom, when she
made her copies and studied her verbs; though if she had never known
the society in which she met Tom and of which he was a member, she
might not have taken hold of them so eagerly.

"Mother," she said when Mrs. Marx was gone, "are you afraid these new