le. That is, we do not square up
by truth, but by the forms of truth.

The Woman's Business has always suffered from lack of facility in
adapting itself to new forms of expression. The natural task found, a
method of handling it in a fashion sufficiently acceptable to prevent
family revolts mastered, and the woman usually is as fixed as a star
in its orbit. She resents changes of method, new interpretations, and
fresh expressions. It is she, not man, who stands an immovable
mountain in the path of militant feminism.

In this course she is following her nature. An instinct more powerful
than logic tells her that she must preserve the thing she is making,
that center for which she is responsible, that place where her child
is born and reared, where her mate retreats, to be reassured that the
effort to which he has committed himself is worth while, where all the
community to which she belongs is served and strengthened. If this
place is preserved, she must do it. Man, an experimenter and
adventurer, cannot.

Changes she fears. She sees them as disturbers of her plans and her
ideals. But the changes will not stay. They gather about her retreat,
beat at the doors, creep in at the windows, win her husband and
children from her very arms. The home on which she depended to keep
them becomes impotent. While she stands an implacable guardian of a
form of truth, truth has moved on, broadened its outlook, and clothed
itself in new expressions.

It is entirely understandable that the woman who sees herself left
behind with her dead gods should cry out against change as the ruin of
her hopes. It is equally understandable that those who find themselves
adrift should doubt the home as an institution. At the bottom of the
revolt of thousands of our "uneasy women" of to-day lies this doubt.
The home failed them, and with the logic of limited experience they
cast it out of their calculations.

But the home is one of the unescapable facts of nature and
society--unescapable because the child demands it. One of the earliest
convictions of the child is that he has a _right_ to a home. To him it
appears as the great necessity. He cannot see himself outside of it.
To be at large in the world throws him into panic. The sacrifices and
pains very young children suffer uncomplainingly, particularly in
great cities and factory towns, is a pathetic enough demonstration of
what the word means to them. Mere children by the hundreds support
famil