oubles me. If you can understand!"

"Oh, I do understand!" Mrs. March returned. "By his innocence, you mean.
That is the worst of children. Their innocence breaks our hearts and
makes us feel ourselves such dreadful old things."

"His innocence, yes," pursued Mrs. Adding, "and his ideals." She began to
laugh again. "He may have gone off for a season of meditation and prayer
over the misbehavior of these bicyclers. His mind is turning that way a
good deal lately. It's only fair to tell you, Mr. March, that he seems to
be giving up his notion of being an editor. You mustn't be disappointed."

"I shall be sorry," said the editor. "But now that you mention it, I
think I have noticed that Rose seems rather more indifferent to
periodical literature. I supposed he might simply have exhausted his
questions--or my answers."

"No; it goes deeper than that. I think it's Europe that's turned his mind
in the direction of reform. At any rate he thinks now he will be a
reformer."

"Really! What kind of one? Not religious, I hope?"

"No. His reform has a religious basis, but its objects are social. I
don't make it out, exactly; but I shall, as soon as Rose does. He tells
me everything, and sometimes I don't feel equal to it, spiritually or
even intellectually."

"Don't laugh at him, Mrs. Adding!" Mrs. March entreated.

"Oh, he doesn't mind my laughing," said the mother, gayly. Rose came
shyly back into the room, and she said, "Well, did you rebuke those bad
bicyclers?" and she laughed again.

"They're only a custom, too, Rose,", said March, tenderly. "Like the man
resting while the women worked, and the Emperor, and all the rest of it."

"Oh, yes, I know," the boy returned.

"They ride modern machines, but they live in the tenth century. That's
what we're always forgetting when we come to Europe and see these
barbarians enjoying all our up-to-date improvements."

"There, doesn't that console you?" asked his mother, and she took him away
with her, laughing back from the door. "I don't believe it does, a bit!"

"I don't believe she understands the child," said Mrs. March. "She is
very light, don't you think? I don't know, after all, whether it wouldn't
be a good thing for her to marry Kenby. She is very easygoing, and she
will be sure to marry somebody."

She had fallen into a tone of musing censure, and he said, "You might put
these ideas to her."

XL.

With the passage of the days and weeks, the strange faces w