adical," said Mrs. Orton Beg. "You would go to
the root of the matter."

"Oh yes, I am a radical in that sense of the word," Beth answered. "I
have a horror of conservatism. Nothing is stationary. All things are
always in a state of growth or decay; and conservatism is a state of
decay."

"Yes," said Angelica. "That is very true, especially as applied to
women--if they are ever to advance."

"Then don't you think they are advancing?" Beth asked.

"Yes," said Angelica, "but not as much as they might. When you mix
more with them in the way of work you will be disheartened. Women are
their own worst enemies just now. They don't follow their leaders
loyally and consistently; they have little idea of discipline; their
tendency is to go off on side issues and break up into little cliques.
They are largely actuated by petty personal motives, by petty
jealousies, by pettinesses of all kinds. One amongst them will arise
here and there, and do something great that is an honour to them all;
but they do not honour her for it--perhaps because something in the
way she dresses, or some trick of manner, does not meet with the
approval of the majority. Women are for ever stumbling over trifling
details. To prove themselves right pleases them better than to arrive
at the truth; and a vulgar personal triumph is of more moment than
the triumph of a great cause. In these things they are practically not
a bit better than men."

"They seem worse, in fact, because we expect so much more of them in the
way of loyalty and disinterestedness," said Mrs. Orton Beg; "and their
power is so much greater, too, in social matters; when they misuse it,
they do much more harm. This will not always be so, of course. As their
minds expand, they will see and understand better. At present they do
not know enough to appreciate their own deficiencies--they do not
measure the weakness of their vacillations by comparing it with the
steady strength of purpose that prevails; and, for want of
comprehension, they aim their silly animadversions to-day at some one
whose work they are glad enough to profit by to-morrow; they make the
task of a benefactress so hard that they kill her, and then they give
her a public funeral. I pity them!"

"Oh, do not be hasty," said Lady Fulda. "Human beings are not like
packs of cards, to be shuffled into different combinations at will and
nobody the worse. There are feelings to be considered. The old sores
must be tenderly touc