"And is n't it going to be rough?" asked Mrs. Green.

"Why, mother, the sea's like glass."

Mrs. Breen turned the subject. "You would have done better, Grace, to
begin as you had planned. Your going to Fall River, and beginning
practice there among those factory children, was the only thing that I
ever entirely liked in your taking up medicine. There was sense in that.
You had studied specially for it. You could have done good there."

"Oh, yes," sighed the girl, "I know. But what was I to do, when she came
to us, sick and poor? I couldn't turn my back on her, especially after
always befriending her, as I used to, at school, and getting her to
depend on me."

"I don't see how you ever liked her," said Mrs. Breen.

"I never did like her. I pitied her. I always thought her a poor, flimsy
little thing. But that ought n't to make any difference, if she was in
trouble."

"No," Mrs. Breen conceded, and in compensation Grace admitted something
more on her side: "She's worse than she used to be,--sillier. I don't
suppose she has a wrong thought; but she's as light as foam."

"Oh, it is n't the wicked people who, do the harm," said Mrs. Green.

"I was sure that this air would be everything for her; and so it would,
with any ordinary case. But a child would take better care of itself. I