we have been
alone, luxuriating in our freedom, and soothing the protestations of
aunts by constant promises to look out for a successor. Then Kathie met
Basil Anderson, and no one was cruel enough to grudge us our last months
together.

Now I am alone, with no one in the world to consider beside myself, with
my own home to make, my own work to find, my own happiness to discover.
Does it make it better or worse, I wonder, that I am rich, and the
question of money does not enter in? Ninety-nine people out of a
hundred would answer at once that it is better, but I'm not so sure. If
I had a tiny income, just enough to ensure me from absolute want, hard
regular work would be necessary, and might be good for body and brain.
I _want_ work! I must have it if I am to keep going, but the mischief
is, I have never been taught to be useful, and I have no idea what I
could do! I can drive a car. I can ride anything that goes on four
legs. I can dance, and skate, and arrange flowers with taste. I can
re-trim a hat, and at a pinch make a whole blouse. I can order a nice
meal, and grumble when it is spoiled. I can strum on the piano and
paint Christmas cards. I can entertain a house-party of big-wigs.

I have also (it seems a queer thing to say!) a kind of genius for
simply--being kind! The poor people in the village call me "the kind
one," to distinguish me from Kathie, who, poor lamb! never did an unkind
thing in her life. But she didn't always _understand_, that was the
difference. When they did wrong she was shocked and estranged, while I
felt dreadfully, dreadfully sorry, and more anxious than ever to help
them again. Kathie used to think me too mild, but I don't know! The
consequences of sin are so terrible in themselves, that I always long to
throw in a lot of help with the blame. The people about here seem to
know this by instinct, for they come to me in their troubles and
anxieties and--_shames_, poor souls! and open their hearts as they do to
nobody else. "Sure then, most people are kind in patches," an old woman
said to me one day; "'tis yourself that is kind _all round_!"

I don't know that it's much credit to do what is no effort, and
certainly if I could choose a role in life it would be to play the part
of a good fairy, comforting people, cheering them up, helping them over
stiles, springing delightful little surprises upon them, just where the
road looked blocked! The trouble is that I've no gift f