The cosmopolitan bachelor living in apartments knows far more of
Sanscrit than of a domestic woman's feelings as she explores the
place she must call her home. It may be a palace or it may be but
two rooms in a decaying tenement, but the same wistful, intent
look will reveal one of the deepest needs of her nature. Eve wept
not so much for the loss of Eden as for the loss of home--the familiar
place whose homeliest objects had become dear from association. The
restless woman who has no home-hunger, no strong instinct to make
a place which shall be a refuge for herself and those she loves,
is not the woman God created. She is the product of a sinister
evolution; she is akin to the birds that will not build nests, but
take possession of those already constructed, ousting the rightful
occupants.

Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred were unperverted; they were womanly in
every fibre, and the interest with which they planned, consulted,
and dwelt upon each detail of their small household economy is
beyond my power to interpret. They could have made the stateliest
mansion in the city homelike; they did impart to their two poor
rooms the essential elements of a home. It was a place which no one
could enter without involuntary respect for the occupants, although
aware of nothing concerning them except their poverty.

"Mrs. Atwood and Susan actually cried when we came to go," Mrs.
Jocelyn remarked as they were all busy together, "and even old Mr.
Atwood was wonderfully good for him. He and Roger put a great many
harvest apples and vegetables in a large box, and Mrs. Atwood added
a jar of her nice butter, some eggs, and a pair of chickens. I
told them that we must begin life again in a very humble way, and
they just overflowed with sympathy and kindness, and I could scarcely