it, or about anything, that's simply impossible. A woman is reminded of
her insufficiency to herself every hour of the day. And it's always a man
that comes to her help. I dropped some things out of my lap down there,
and by the time I had gathered them up I was wound round and round with
linen thread so that I could n't move a step, and Mr. Libby cut me loose.
I could have done it myself, but it seemed right and natural that he
should do it. I dare say he plumed himself upon his service to me,--that
would be natural, too. I have things enough to keep me meek, mother!"

She did not look round at Mrs. Breen, who said, "I think you are morbid
about it."

"Yes. And I have the satisfaction of knowing that whatever people think
of Louise's giddiness, I'm, a great deal more scandalous to them than she
is simply because I wish to do some good in the world, in a way that
women have n't done it, usually."

"Now you are morbid."

"Oh, yes! Talk about men being obstacles! It's other women! There isn't a
woman in the house that would n't sooner trust herself in the hands of
the stupidest boy that got his diploma with me than she would in mine.
Louise knows it, and she feels that she has a claim upon me in being my
patient. And I 've no influence with her about her conduct because she
understands perfectly well that they all consider me much worse. She
prides herself on doing me justice. She patronizes me. She tells me that
I'm just as nice as, if I hadn't 'been through all that.'" Grace rose,
and a laugh, which was half a sob, broke from her.

Mrs. Breen could not feel the humor of the predicament. "She puts you in