'Do you think so?' asked Virginia anxiously.

'Yes, I am sure it is often wrong--all the more so because people
proclaim it a virtue without any reference to circumstances. Then
how did you get away at last?'

'The poor woman died. Then I had a place scarcely less disagreeable.
Now I have none at all; but I really must find one very soon.'

She laughed at this allusion to her poverty, and made nervous
motions.

'Let me tell you what my own course has been,' said Miss Nunn, after
a short reflection. 'When my mother died, I determined to have done
with teaching--you know that. I disliked it too much, and partly,
of course, because I was incapable. Half my teaching was a sham--a
pretence of knowing what I neither knew nor cared to know. I had
gone into it like most girls, as a dreary matter of course.'

'Like poor Alice, I'm afraid.'

'Oh, it's a distressing subject. When my mother left me that little
sum of money I took a bold step. I went to Bristol to learn
everything I could that would help me out of school life. Shorthand,
book-keeping, commercial correspondence--I had lessons in them
all, and worked desperately for a year. It did me good; at the end
of the year I was vastly improved in health, and felt myself worth
something in the world. I got a place as cashier in a large shop.
That soon tired me, and by dint of advertising I found a place in an