"Apropos of frivolity," Rowland said, "I 'm sure you have very little
of it, unless at West Nazareth it is considered frivolous to walk in the
woods and nod to the nodding flowers. Do kindly tell me a little about
yourself." And to compel her to begin, "I know you come of a race of
theologians," he went on.

"No," she replied, deliberating; "they are not theologians, though they
are ministers. We don't take a very firm stand upon doctrine; we are
practical, rather. We write sermons and preach them, but we do a great
deal of hard work beside."

"And of this hard work what has your share been?"

"The hardest part: doing nothing."

"What do you call nothing?"

"I taught school a while: I must make the most of that. But I confess I
did n't like it. Otherwise, I have only done little things at home, as
they turned up."

"What kind of things?"

"Oh, every kind. If you had seen my home, you would understand."

Rowland would have liked to make her specify; but he felt a more urgent
need to respect her simplicity than he had ever felt to defer to the
complex circumstance of certain other women. "To be happy, I imagine,"
he contented himself with saying, "you need to be occupied. You need to
have something to expend yourself upon."