though. And there
is to be a meeting of this auxiliary of the political study club,--I
don't know what it's all about, but one feels one must go. I declare,"
Cornelia poured a second cup, "next winter I'm going to try to do less.
There isn't a single morning or afternoon that I'm not attending some
meeting or going to some affair. Between pure milk and politics and
charities and luncheons,--it's just too much! Belle says that women do
all the work of the world, in these days--"

"And yet we don't GET AT anything," said Mrs. Phelps, in her brisk,
impatient little way. "I attend meetings, I listen to reports, I sit on
boards--But what comes of it all! Trained nurses and paid workers do
all the actual work--"

"But mother, dear, a great deal will come of it all," Cornelia was
mildly reproachful. "You couldn't inspect babies and do nursing
yourself, dear! Investigating and tabulating and reporting are very
difficult things to do!"

"Sometimes I think, Cornelia, that the world was much pleasanter for
women when things were more primitive. When they just had households
and babies to look out for, when every one was personally NEEDED."

"Mother, DEAR!" Cornelia protested indulgently. "Then we haven't
progressed at all since MAYFLOWER days?"

"Oh, perhaps we have!" Mrs. Phelps shrugged doubtfully. "But I am
sometimes sorry," she went on, half to herself, "that birth and wealth
and position have kept me all my life from REAL things! I can't help my
friends in sickness or trouble, Cornelia, I don't know what's coming on
my own table for dinner, or what the woman next door looks like! I can
only keep on the surface of things, dressing a certain way, eating
certain things, writing notes, sending flowers, making calls!"

"All of which our class--the rich and cultivated people of the
world--have been struggling to achieve for generations!" Cornelia
reminded her. "Do you mean you would like to be a laborer's mother,
mater, with all sorts of annoying economies to practice, and all sorts
of inconveniences to contend with?"

"Yes, perhaps I would!" her mother laughed defiantly.

"I can see you've had another letter from California," said Cornelia,
pleasantly, after a puzzled moment. "You are still a pioneer in spite
of the ten generations, mater. Austin's wife is NOT a lady, Austin is
absolutely different from what he was, the people out there are
actually COMMON, and yet, just because they like to have you, and think
you are i