little. Jack seems to be rather drifting away
from me. He gets to know so many new people, and he doesn't like
explaining; and then his mind seems full of new ideas. I suppose it is
bound to happen; and of course I have very little to do here; papa
likes doing everything, and doing it in his own way. He can't bear to
let anything out of his hands; so I just go about and talk to the
people. But I am not a very contented person. I want something, I
think, and I don't know what it is. It is difficult to take up anything
serious, when one is all alone. I should like to go to Newnham, but I
can't leave father by himself; books don't seem much use, though I read
a great deal. I want something real to do, like Jack! Papa is so
energetic; he manages the house and pays all the bills; and there
doesn't seem any use for me--though if I were of use, I should find
plenty of things to do, I believe."

"Yes," said Howard, "I quite understand, and I am glad you have told
me. You know I am a sort of doctor in these matters, and I have often
heard undergraduates say the same sort of thing. They are restless,
they want to go out into life, they want to work; and when they begin
to work all that disquiet disappears. It's a great mercy to have things
to do, whether one likes it or not. Work is an odd thing! There is
hardly a morning at Cambridge when, if someone came to me and offered
me the choice of doing my ordinary work or doing nothing for a day, I
shouldn't choose to do nothing. And yet I enjoy my work, and wouldn't
give it up for anything. It is odd that it takes one so long to learn
to like work, and longer still to learn that one doesn't like idleness.
And yet it is to win the power of being idle that makes most people
work. Idleness seems so much grander and more dignified."

"It IS curious," said Maud, "but I seem to have inherited papa's taste
for occupation, without his energy. I wish you would advise me what to
do. Can't one find something?"

"What does my aunt say?" said Howard.

"Oh, she smiles in that mysterious way she has," said Maud, "and says
we have to learn to take things as they come. She knows somehow how to
do without things, how to wait; but I can't do that without getting
dreary."

"Do you ever try to write?" said Howard.

"Yes," said Maud, laughing, "I have tried to write a story--how did you
guess that? I showed it to Cousin Anne, and she said it was very nice;
and when I showed it to Jack, and told him