; and, "though she had
not in youth the severe training that makes for perfect accuracy,"
she had by nature the instinct which avoids the commonplace, and
which touches even hackneyed themes with light and fire. Her humour
was exuberant, unforced, untrammelled; it played freely round every
object which met her mental gaze--sometimes too freely when she was
dealing with things traditionally held sacred. But her flippancy
was of speech rather than of thought, for her fundamental view of
life was serious. "Life, in her view, brings much that is pure
and unsought joy, more, perhaps, that needs transforming effort,
little or nothing that cannot be made to contribute to an inward
and abiding happiness."

Some more detailed account of her literary work may be given later
on; at this point I must turn to the other side of her double life.
She was only twenty-two when she began her career of practical
benevolence among the poor girls of Bethnal Green, Shoreditch, and
Shadwell. She established in the country Homes for the girl-children
of an East End work-house, and maintained them till she died. For
twenty-two years she was treasurer of a Boys' Home. She was a manager
of Elementary Schools in London. She held a class for female prisoners
at Holloway. She was deeply impressed by the importance of starting
young people in suitable employment, and threw all her energies
into the work, "in case of need, supplying the money required for
apprenticeship." In this and in all her other enterprises she was
generous to a fault, always being ready to give away half her
income--and yet not "to a fault," for her strong administrative
and financial instinct restrained her from foolish or mischievous
expenditure. All this work, of body and mind, was done in spite
of fragile health and frequent suffering; yet she never seemed
overburdened, or fussed, or flurried, and those who enjoyed her
graceful hospitality in Onslow Gardens would never have suspected
either that her day had been spent in what she called "the picturesque
mire of Wapping," or that she had been sitting up late at night,
immersed in _Human Documents from the Four Centuries preceding
the Reformation_.

We have spoken of her humour. Those who would see a sample of it
are referred to her description of the Eisteddfod on p. 22; and
this piece of pungent fun may be profitably read in contrast with
her grim story of _Gladys Leonora Pratt_. In that story some of
the writer's saddest