ks of life.

"'Miss Summerhaze, Architect:' that would make a very unique card. It
would get abundant advertising free of expense, for everybody would
talk about it. There is no reason," continued Mr. Falconer, "why women
should not be architects: they have the taste, and they are the best
judges as to household conveniences--the only proper judges, indeed."

This has now a very commonplace sound, but for the period it was
fresh and original, and seemed so to Susan. Indeed, the idea was
fascinating: she thought Mr. Falconer a wonderfully bright and
suggestive man.

"I wish there were other things women could do besides teaching and
taking in sewing," Susan said.

"Well, why don't you put yourself in the lead in this matter, Miss
Summerhaze? Somebody or bodies must step to the front. A revolution in
these matters is bound to come. Why shouldn't you become an architect?
Why shouldn't you go into a work for which you have evidently
remarkable talent? Why shouldn't you become a builder?"

"Well," said Susan, smiling, "there is no pressing call for me to earn
money. I have had my work-day, and have sufficient means to meet my
simple wants. Besides, I am not pining or rusting in idleness. The
management of my little means gives me employment. I happen to be
one of those exceptional women who 'want but little here below,'
especially in the way of ribbons and new bonnets. As you perceive, I
give myself little concern about matters of dress."

"And why shouldn't you give yourself concern about matters of dress,
Miss Summerhaze? Pardon me, but I think it your duty to look as well
as you can. You cannot do this without bestowing thought on matters of
dress."

"Why," said Susan, laughing, "what possible difference can it make to
anybody how I look?"

"It makes a difference to every person whom you encounter," Mr.
Falconer replied incisively.

"To you?" Susan challenged laughingly.

"Yes, a good deal of difference to me," the gentleman replied
promptly. "The sight of a woman artistically dressed affects me like
fine music or a fine painting."

"But have you no commendation for the woman who is independent enough
to rise above the vanities of fashion?" Susan asked with some warmth.

"Most certainly I have. I admire the woman who rises above vanities of
whatever nature. By all means throw the vanities of dress overboard,
but don't let sense and taste go with them. But I am making a lengthy
call: I had forgotten myself.