," she observed. "Do you remember how you worked at
Huntington's to get money for college? It is my turn now."

"I remember how you scolded me for it," Theodora responded tartly. "What
has turned you to this whim, Babe?"

"It is no whim. It is a good profession, and other women no smarter than
I, have succeeded in it."

"You are smart enough, Babe; it's not that. But why do you want to do
anything of the kind?"

"What should I do? I sha'n't marry. Billy is the only man I ever liked.
You took him, and you appear to be in rude health, so there is no chance
for me. I must do something, Teddy, something definite. I can't potter
round the house, all my days. The mother is housekeeper; I must have
something more absorbing than dusting and salads and amateur photography
to fill up my time."

Theodora laughed at the outburst. Then, as she sat looking up at her tall
young sister, a sudden gentleness crossed her face. In their childhood,
she and Phebe had always clashed. To-day, for the first time, she felt a
full comprehension of the girl's point of view.

"Things are out of joint, Teddy," Phebe was saying. "It is all right for
a boy to be restless and eager to find his place; but we girls must trot
up and down one narrow path, all our days. Sometimes I don't mind it; but
there come times when I want to knock down the fences and break away into
a new track of my own, a track that goes somewhere, not a promenade. I
want to have a goal and keep moving toward it, not swing this way and
that like a pendulum. Europe was lovely, and Mrs. Farrington; but--I'm
queer, Ted. There is no getting around the fact." Phebe brushed away a
tear that hung heavy on her brown lashes.

Theodora held out her hand to her invitingly; but Phebe shook her head.

"No; I don't want to be cuddled, Ted; I'm not a baby. I want to be
understood; that is all. You never can understand, though. You have Billy
and your writing, more than your fair share, and you grew up into them
both. You were foreordained. Other people are. I wish I were; but I'm
not, and yet I want to work, to do something definite." She paused with a
little laugh. "I said something about it once to some nice English girls
I met at Lucerne. They seemed very all-round and energetic, and I thought
they would understand. They just put their dear, rosy heads on one side
and said, 'Oh, dear me, how very unusual!' Then I gave it up and kept
still till I told Mrs. Farrington. She understood."