there is nothing you can do. You are really a very useless girl for your
age."

"There are heaps of things I could do."

"Tell me a few of them."

I was silent. The professions at which I felt I had the latent power to
excel, were I but given a chance, were in a sphere far above us, and to
mention my feelings and ambitions to my matter-of-fact practical mother
would bring upon me worse ridicule than I was already forced to endure
day by day.

"Mention a few of the things you could do."

I might as well have named flying as the professions I was thinking of.
Music was the least unmentionable of them, so I brought it forward.

"Music! But it would take years of training and great expense before you
could earn anything at that! It is quite out of the question. The only
thing for you to do is to settle down and take interest in your work, and
help make a living at home, or else go out as a nurse-girl, and work your
way up. If you have any ability in you it would soon show. If you think
you could do such strokes, and the home work is not good enough for you,
go out and show the world what a wonderful creature you are."

"Mother, you are unjust and cruel!" I exclaimed. "You do not understand
one at all. I never thought I could do strokes. I cannot help being
constituted so that grimy manual labour is hateful to me, for it is
hateful to me, and I hate it more and more every day, and you can preach