and take her out of it. I tell you the
interesting lives are those of people who've had to work up from the
bottom. A working girl may have her troubles, but they're _real_. Why,
let's suppose that Barbara marries, that she marries the man her mother
has picked out, for example, still she doesn't get away from the tiring,
the sickening conventions that all her set has laid down for her! I wish
I had my own girlhood to live over--I know that!" finished the older
woman, with a gloomy nod.

"Miss Toland seems to me to have everything in the world," Julia said,
in childish protest. "She's--she's beautiful, and every one loves her.
She's always been rich enough to do what she pleased, and go places, and
wear what she liked! And--and"--Julia's eyes watered suddenly--"and
she's a lady," she added unsteadily. "She's always been told how to do
things, she's--she's different from--from girls who have had no chances,
who--"

Her voice thickened, speech became too difficult, and she stopped,
looking down at her teacup through a blur of tears. Miss Toland watched
her for a silent moment or two; despite all her oddities, no woman who
ever lived had a kinder heart or a keener insight than Anna Toland. It
was in a very winning tone that she presently said:

"Tell me a little something about yourself, Miss Page!"

"Oh, there's nothing interesting about _me_!" Julia said, ashamed of
showing emotion. She jumped up, and began to put the kitchen in order.
But the recital came, nevertheless, beginning with Chester, and ending
with Julia's earliest memories of the O'Farrell Street house. The girl
tumbled it out regardless of sequence, and revealing far more than she
knew. Julia told of the episode of Carter Hazzard; she repeated the
conversation she had overheard at the club.

Miss Toland did not once interrupt her; she listened in an appreciative
silence. They washed and put away the dishes, straightened the kitchen,
and finally found themselves standing in the reception room, Julia still
talking.

".... so you see why it sounds so funny to me, your talking about your
niece," Julia said. "Because she--she seems to me such _miles_ ahead--she
seems to have everything I would like to have!" She paused, and then
said awkwardly: "I'll never be a lady, I know that. I--I wish I had a
chance to be!"

And she sat down at the little Mission table, and flung her arms out
before her, her face tired and wretched, her blue eyes dark with pain.
M