ver have piano
lessons?'

'No.'

'No more did I, and I was sorry for it when I went to typewriting. The
fingers have to be light and supple and quick. Come with me, and I'll
show you one of the machines.'

They went to a room downstairs--a bare little room by the library. Here
were two Remingtons, and Rhoda patiently explained their use.

'One must practise until one can do fifty words a minute at least. I
know one or two people who have reached almost twice that speed. It
takes a good six months' work to learn for any profitable use. Miss
Barfoot takes pupils.'

Monica, at first very attentive, was growing absent. Her eyes wandered
about the room. The other observed her closely, and, it seemed,
doubtfully.

'Do you feel any impulse to try for it?'

'I should have to live for six months without earning anything.'

'That is by no means impossible for you, I think?'

'Not really impossible,' Monica replied with hesitation.

Something like dissatisfaction passed over Miss Nunn's face, though she
did not allow Monica to see it. Her lips moved in a way that perhaps
signified disdain for such timidity. Tolerance was not one of the
virtues expressed in her physiognomy.

'Let us go back to the drawing-room and have some tea.'

Monica could not become quite at ease. This energetic woman had little
attraction for her. She saw the characteristics which made Virginia
enthusiastic, but feared rather than admired them. To put herself in
Miss Nunn's hands might possibly result in a worse form of bondage than
she suffered at the shop; she would never be able to please such a
person, and failure, she imagined, would result in more or less
contemptuous dismissal.

Then of a sudden, as it she had divined these thoughts, Rhoda assumed
an air of gaiety of frank kindness.

'So it is your birthday? I no longer keep count of mine, and couldn't
tell you without a calculation what I am exactly. It doesn't matter,
you see. Thirty-one or fifty-one is much the same for a woman who has
made up her mind to live alone and work steadily for a definite object.
But you are still a young girl, Monica. My best wishes!'

Monica emboldened herself to ask what the object was for which her
friend worked.

'How shall I put it?' replied the other, smiling. 'To make women
hard-hearted.'

'Hard-hearted? I think I understand.'

'Do you?'

'You mean that you like to see them live unmarried.'

Rhoda laughed merrily.

'You say that almost