ack
to simplicity and to the home, because they will have learned things
from men and will have taught things to men, and by mutual
understanding each will choose the best."

Cousin Patty was inspired by the thought. "I never heard any one put
it that way before."

"Perhaps not--but I have seen much of the world--and of men--and of
women."

"Yet all women are not alike."

"No." His eyes swept the table. "You three--Miss Ballard, Miss
Jeliffe--how far apart--yet you're all women--all, I may say, awakened
women--refusing to follow the straight and narrow path of the old
ideal. Isn't it so?"

"Yes. I'm in business--none of our women has ever been in business.
Mary won't marry for a home--yet all of her women have, consciously or
unconsciously, married for a home. And Miss Jeliffe I don't know well
enough to judge. But I fancy she'll blaze a way for herself."

His eyes rested on Delilah. "She has blazed a way," he said, slowly;
"she's a most remarkable woman."

Delilah, looking up, caught his glance and smiled.

"Are they in love with each other?" Cousin Patty asked Mary that night.

Mary laughed. "Delilah's a will-o'-the-wisp; who knows?"

With their days filled, there was little time for intimacy or
confidential talks between Mary and Cousin Patty. And since Mary would
not ask questions about Roger, and since Cousin Patty seemed to have
certain reserves in his direction, it was only meager information which
trickled out; and with this Mary was forced to be content.

Grace marched in the Suffrage Parade, and they applauded her from their
seats on the Treasury stand. Aunt Frances, who sat with them, was
filled with indignation.

"To think that _my_ daughter----"

Cousin Patty threw down the gauntlet: "Why not your daughter, Mrs.
Clendenning?"

"Because the women of our family have always been--different."

"So have the women of my family," calmly, "but that's no reason why we
should expect to stand still. None of the women of my family ever made
wedding cake for a living. But that isn't any reason why I should
starve, is it?"

Aunt Frances shifted the argument. "But to march--on the street."

"That's their way of expressing themselves. Men march--and have
marched since the beginning. Sometimes their marching doesn't mean
anything, and sometimes it does. And I'm inclined," said Cousin Patty
with an emphatic nod of her head, "to think that this marching means a
great deal."

On and on