I almost jumped off my chair at that, I was so startled and so
indignant.

"Oh, Carrie! and when you know mother does not approve of girls of
our age undertaking such work--she has said so over and over again
--how can you go against her wishes?"

Carrie looked at me mildly, but she was not in the least discomposed
at my words.

"Listen to me, you silly child," she said, good-humoredly; "this is
one of mother's fancies; you cannot expect me with my settled views
to agree with her in this."

I don't know what Carrie meant by her views, unless they consisted
in a determination to make herself and every one else uncomfortable
by an overstrained sense of duty.

"Middle-aged people are timid sometimes. Mother has never visited
the poor herself, so she does not see the necessity for my doing it;
but I am of a different opinion," continued Carrie, with a mild
obstinacy that astonished me too much for any reply.

"When mother cried about it just now, and begged me to let her speak
to Mr. Smedley, I told her that I was old enough to judge for myself,
and that I thought one's conscience ought not to be slavishly bound
even to one's parent. I was trying to do my duty to her and to every
one, but I must not neglect the higher part of my vocation."

"Oh, Carrie, how could you? You will make her so unhappy."