"Somebody told you that patience was a pretty ornament. It is if it's
the genuine article and properly used. But letting a man spend his
wages hoggishly on himself and robbing his children and driving them
from their lawful home and cheating you out of every right and even
your self-respect is nothing to be patient about. As for tears, they
have their uses, but they never mended wrongs that I know of. It's
fool, weeping, patient women that make selfish, mean men. It's plain,
honest, righteous anger that brings about the reforms in this world.

"If the first time that Will got ugly drunk or swearing cross about
nothing you had stood up for yourself and the children and reminded him
sharply of the decencies instead of crying softly and praying for
patience, you wouldn't be sitting here, the two of you, in an empty
house with your children God knows where.

"I've known you since before you were married and I'm sorry for you
because I know--"

Then it was that Grandma Wentworth began to talk as only she knew how.
She forgot nothing. She recalled to that man and woman all the beauty
and the wonder of the beginning; the new furniture, the summer
moonlight when their home was young and they were waiting for their
first baby; his coming; his blue eyes and Jimmy's brown ones and little
Alice's gentle ways. All the past sweetness that had been theirs and
was not wholly forgotten she brought back, and in the end when they
sobbed aloud she cried a bit with them, for they were of her
generation. And then she rose to go.

"Well, now that I've had my say I'll tell you that I really came to