for _thinking_, which is becoming more and more common. If this goes on, there won’t be so many women with drabbly skirts and flat chests. There will still be strong men and weak, but the conditions may not be so severe. Anyhow let us hope so, for it is an optimistic thought and it cheers one in the face of all the drab streets and the drab people. I have no hope of making millionaires of everybody, nor of establishing that futile abstraction, justice; but I do cherish the idea of seeing the world growing better and more interesting for everybody. And the ills which make for thinking are the only things which will bring this about. CHAPTER XVIII SMOKY ENGLAND (_continued_) At Middleton the mills are majestically large and the cottages relatively minute. There is a famous old inn here, very picturesque to look upon, and Somebody of Something’s comfortable manor, but they were not the point for me. In one of its old streets, in the dark doorway of an old house, I encountered an old woman, very heavy, very pale, very weary, who stood leaning against the door post. “What do you burn here, gas or oil?” I asked, interested to obtain information on almost any topic and seeking a pretext for talking to her. “Hey?” she replied, looking at me wearily, but making no other move. “What do you burn?” I asked. “What do you use for light, gas or oil?” “Ile,” she replied heavily. “You’ll have to talk very loud. I’m gettin’ old and I’m goin’ to die pretty soon.” “Oh, no,” I said, “you’re not old enough for that. You’re going to live a long time yet.” “Hey?” she asked. I repeated what I had said. “No,” she mumbled, and now I saw she had no teeth. “I’m gettin’ old. I’m eighty-two and I’m goin’ to die. I been workin’ in the mills all my life.” “Have you ever been out of Middleton?” I asked. “Hey?” she replied. I repeated. “Yes, to Manchester, Saturdays. Not of late, though. Not in years and years. I’m very sick, though, now. I’m goin’ to die.” I could see from her look that what she said was true. Only her exceeding weariness employed her mind. I learned that water came from a hydrant in the yard, that the kitchen floor was of earth. Then I left, noticing as I went that she wore wooden-soled shoes.