nd provide for you."

"You know that is not true," she answered quietly; "but I have been
looking forward so long to going to school."

"And living with Miss Prudence and becoming like her!"

"Don't you want me to be like her?"

"No," he burst out. "I want you to be like Linnet, and to think that
little house and house-keeping, and a good husband, good enough for you.
What is the good of studying if it doesn't make you more a perfect woman?
What is the good of anything a girl does if it doesn't help her to be a
woman?"

"Miss Prudence is a perfect woman."

Marjorie's tone was quiet and reasonable, but there was a fire in her
eyes that shone only when she was angry.

"She would be more perfect if she stayed at home in Maple Street and made
a home for somebody than she is now, going hither and thither finding
people to be kind to and to help. She is too restless and she is not
satisfied. Look at Linnet; she is happier to-day with her husband that
reads only the newspapers, the nautical books, and his Bible, than Miss
Prudence with all her lectures and concerts and buying books and knowing
literary people! She couldn't make a Miss Prudence out of Linnet, but she
will make a Miss Prudence twice over out of you."

"Linnet is happy because she loves Will, and she doesn't care for books
and people, as we do; but we haven't any Will, poor Miss Prudence and
poor Marjorie, we have to substitute people and books."

"You might have, both of you!" he went on, excitedly; "but you want
something better, both of you,--_higher_, I suppose you think! There's
Mr. Holmes eating his heart out with being only a friend to Miss
Prudence, and you want me to go poking along and spoiling my life as he
does, because you like books and study better!"

Marjorie laughed; the fire in Morris' blue eyes was something to see, and
the tears in his voice would have overcome her had she not laughed
instead. And he was going far away, too.

"Morris, I didn't know you were quite such a volcano. I don't believe Mr.
Holmes stays here and _pokes_ because of Miss Prudence. I know he is
melancholy, sometimes, but he writes so much and thinks so much he can't
be light-hearted like young things like us. And who does as much good as
Miss Prudence? Isn't she another mother to Linnet and me? And if she
doesn't find somebody to love as Linnet does Will, I don't see how she
can help it."

"It isn't in her heart or she would have found somebody; it is what i