But wantin' to mustn't
be enough to make you do things."

She stood, her head held up as if she were singing, as Liddy Ember had
said of her, her arms tightly folded, her cheeks flushing with her fear
that we would not understand.

"Oh," she said, "you know--you _know_ how I've always wanted nice
things. Wanted 'em so it hurt. Not just from likin' 'em, either, but
because some way I thought I could _be_ more, _do_ more, live up to my
biggest best if I could only get where things was kind of educated
an'--gentle. But every time I tried to go, somethin' come up--like it
will, to shove you hard down into the place you was. Then I thought--you
know 'bout that, I guess--I thought I was goin' to live here in Oldmoxon
House, an' hev a life like other women hev. An' when that wasn't to be,
I thought mebbe it was because God see I wasn't fit for it, an' I set to
work on myself to make me as good as I knew--an' I worked an' worked,
like life was nothin' but me, an' I was nothin' but a cake, to get a
good bake on an' die without bein' too much dough to me. An' then all to
once I see that couldn't be the only thing He meant. It didn't seem like
He could 'a' made me sole in order to save me from hell. An' I begun to
see He must 'a' made me to help in some great, big hid plan or other of
His. An' quick as I knew that an' begun wantin' to help, He begun
showin' me when to. That's how I mean what I said about the Bell. Times
like Elspie, or 'Leven, or like that, I can hear it just as plain as
plain--the Bell, callin' me to help Him."

She looked hard at us, and, "I donno if you know what I'm talkin'
about----" she doubted; but, at our answer,

"Well," she added, "they's somethin' else. It's somethin' almost like
what you've got--you two--an' like what Delia an' Abel have got. Lately,
I don't _need_ to hear the Bell any more. I know 'bout it without. It's
almost like I _am_ the Bell. Don't you see, it's come to be my power,
just like love will be your power, if you rilly understand. An'
here--here I know how. I've grown to Friendship, an' here I know what's
what. An' if I went away now, where things is gentle an' like in books,
I wouldn't know how to be any rill use. I can _be_ the Bell here--here I
can have my power. In town I expect I couldn't be anything but just cake
again--bakin' myself rill good, or even gettin' frosted; but mebbe not
helpin'. An' I couldn't risk that--I couldn't risk it. It looks to me
like helpin' is what I