My mother nodded.

"Yes," she answered, "the pretty ladies, the wicked ladies."




CHAPTER II

DICKEY DOWNY'S MEDITATION

It hath the excuse of youth.
--_Shakespeare._


That night I pondered long upon what my mother had told me. Ever since
I left my shell I had been taught to respect my elders, and that it was
a mark of ill manners and bad breeding for children to question the
superior knowledge of those much older than themselves.
Notwithstanding this, in my secret heart I could not help thinking that
my mother was mistaken in her estimate of women when she called them
wicked. She had surely misjudged them. However, I took good care not
to mention these doubts to her.

I had heard from my grandmother, who had traveled a great deal from the
tropics to the North and back again, that women were the leaders in the
churches and were foremost in all Christian and philanthropic work;
that they provided beautiful homes for orphan children, where they took
care of them and nursed them when they were sick. She told me about