uch things, but as you grow older,
and gain more experience, you will learn to regard them philosophically.
It is the only way.'

'Philosophically?' repeated Gladys slowly. 'What does that mean, Miss
Peck? If it means that we are to think lightly of them, then I pray I
may be spared acquiring such philosophy. Is there nothing we can do for
Lizzie even yet, Miss Peck?'

She broke off suddenly, with a pathetic wistfulness which brought the
tears to the little spinster's eyes.

'Is there no way we can save her? Teen says she will die in a cellar or
an hospital. Can you bear to think of it, and not try to do something?'

Miss Peck hesitated a moment. It was an extremely delicate subject, and
she feared to touch upon it; but there was no evading the clear,
straight, questioning gaze of Gladys.

'I fear it is quite useless, my dear. It is almost impossible to reform
such girls. I had a cousin who was matron of a home for them in
Lancashire, and she gave me often rather a discouraging account of the
work among them. You see, when a woman once loses her character she has
no chance, the whole world is against her, and everybody regards her
with suspicion. Sometimes, my love, I have felt quite wicked thinking of
the inequality of the punishment meted out to men and women in this
world. Women are the burden-bearers and the scapegoats always.'

Gladys rose up, weary and perplexed, her face looking worn and grey in
the brilliant sunshine.

Her heart re-echoed the words of the little spinster; for the moment the
loveliness of the earth seemed a mockery and a shame.

'Why is it so?' was the only question she asked.

Miss Peck shook her head. That great question, which has perplexed so
many millions of God's creatures, was beyond her power of solution. But
from that day it was seldom out of the mind of Gladys, robbing all the
sweetness and the interest from her life.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XLIII.

A WOMAN'S HEART.

The second summer of Gladys Graham's changed life was less happy than
the first. Her young enthusiasm had received many chills, and somehow
the wealth with which she had anticipated so large a blessing to herself
and others, seemed a less desirable possession than when it first came
into her hands. Doing good was not simply a question of will, but was
often surrounded by so many difficulties that it could not be
accomplished, at least after the manner she had planned. Her experience
with Liz Hepbur