er it. Sister and I are perfectly able to do what is to be
done. But mother insists upon keeping the nurse."

"Well, she can't keep you, if you really want to go. I guess you got a
right to do your duty."

The word was like a bugle call to Miss Isobel. She went about all day in
a tremor of uncertainty, and at last yielded to Quin's insistence, and,
donning Eleanor's Red Cross uniform, accompanied him to the hospital.

Every afternoon after that, when Madam was taking her rest, Miss Isobel,
feeling like Machiavelli one moment and Florence Nightingale the next,
stepped into the carriage, already loaded with delicacies, and proceeded
on her errand of mercy. She invariably returned in a twitter of subdued
excitement, and recounted her experiences with breathless interest at the
dinner-table.

"I've never seen sister like this before," Miss Enid told Quin. "She
talks more in an hour now than she used to talk in a week, and she seems
so happy."

The change wrought in Miss Isobel's life by Quin's advent into the family
was mild, however, compared to the cataclysm effected in the life of her
sister. Miss Enid, having had her own affections wrecked in early youth,
spent her time acting as a sort of salvage corps following the
devastation caused by her cyclonic mother. When Madam shattered things to
bits, Miss Enid tried patiently to remold them nearer to the heart's
desire. She had acquired a habit of offsetting every disagreeable remark
by an agreeable one, and she was apt to see incipient halos hovering
above heads where less sympathetic observers saw horns. When the last
chance of getting rid of the disturbing but helpful Quin vanished, she
set herself to work to discover his possibilities with the view of
undertaking his social reclamation.

One evening, as he was passing through the hall, she called him into the
library. It was a small, high-ceilinged room, with bookcases reaching to
the ceiling, and a massive mahogany table bearing a reading-lamp with two
green shades. Lincoln and his Cabinet held session over one door, and
Andrew Jackson, surrounded by his weeping family, died over the other.
Miss Enid, with books piled up in front of her, was sitting at the table.

"Quinby," she said,--it had been "Quinby" ever since the discovery of his
grandfather,--"I wonder if you can help me? I have a club paper on the
14th, and I can't find a thing about my subject. Can't you tell me
something about the position of women in