r, darling
little daughter," she thought, "how _can_ you trust anything in this
weak and wicked world as you trust your broken reed of a mother? I don't
know, dear child, any more than you do, where we are going, nor how we
are going to get there. We are just stumbling along, your father and I,
as best we can, dragging you and your brothers along with us. And all we
can do for you, or for each other, is to love you and . . ."

Elly withdrew her hand. "There, Mother, I know they're clean enough now.
I'm afraid I'll be late if I don't go. And you know she scolds like
everything if anybody's late." She repeated in a rapid murmur, "The
tributaries of the Delaware on the left bank are . . ."

Her mother's mind went back with a jerk to the question of
river-tributaries. "And what's the use of cramming her memory with facts
she could find in three minutes in any Atlas if by any strange chance
she should ever ever need to know about the tributaries of the Delaware.
As well set her to learning the first page of the Telephone Directory!
Why don't I do the honest thing by her and say to her that all that is
poppy-cock?"

* * * * *

An inner dialogue flashed out, lunge, parry, riposte, like rapier blades
at play. "Because if I told her it is nonsense, that would undermine her
faith in her teacher and her respect for her."

"But why _should_ she respect her teacher if her teacher does not
deserve that sort of respect? Ought even a little child to respect
anything or anybody merely because of a position of authority and not
because of intrinsic worth? No, of course not."

"Oh, you know that's only wild talk. Of course you couldn't send the
child to school, and keep her under her teacher, unless you preserve the
form of upholding the teacher's authority."

"Yes, but in Heaven's name, why _do_ we send her to school? She could
learn twenty times more, anywhere else."

"Because sending her to school keeps her in touch with other children,
with her fellow-beings, keeps her from being 'queer' or different. She
might suffer from it as she grew up, might desire more than anything in
the world to be like others."

* * * * *

Elly had been staring at her mother's face for a moment, and now said,
"Mother, what _makes_ you look so awfully serious?"

Marise said ruefully, "It's pretty hard to explain to a little girl. I
was wondering whether I was as good a mother to you a