"But what did they EAT, do you suppose?"

"Oh, I don't know. Potatoes, I suppose, and oatmeal and baked
cabbage, and soup. I know she got a quart of buttermilk every day,
for three cents. They were beautiful children. They went to free
schools, and lectures, and galleries, and park concerts, and free
dispensaries, when they needed them. Laws could do no more for her,
she knew her business."

"Well, education WOULD solve it then," concluded Mrs. Brown.

"I don't know." Mrs. Burgoyne answered, reflectively, "Book
education won't certainly. But example might, I believe example
would."

"You mean for people of a better class to go and live among them?"
suggested the doctor.

"No, but I mean for people of a better class to show them that what
they are striving for isn't vital, after all. I mean for us to so
order our lives that they will begin to value cleanliness, and
simplicity, and the comforts they can afford. You know, Mary Brown,"
said Mrs. Burgoyne, turning suddenly to the doctor's wife, with her
gay, characteristic vehemence, "it's all our fault, all the misery
and suffering and sin of it, everywhere!"

"Our fault! You and me!" cried Mrs. Brown, aghast.

"No, all the fault of women, I mean!" Mrs. Burgoyne laughed too as