“Only in these little domestic matters,” said Rhoda, deprecatingly. “Women are good advisers in such things. The male physician relies on drugs. Medical women are wanted to moderate that delusion; to prevent disease by domestic vigilance, and cure it by selected esculents and pure air. These will cure fifty for one that medicine can; besides drugs kill ever so many: these never killed a creature. You will give me the granary, won't you? Oh, and there's a black pond in the center of the village. Your tenant Pickett, who is a fool--begging his pardon--lets all his liquid manure run out of his yard into the village till it accumulates in a pond right opposite the five cottages they call New Town, and its exhalations taint the air. There are as many fevers in Islip as in the back slums of a town. You might fill the pond up with chalk, and compel Pickett to sink a tank in his yard, and cover it; then an agricultural treasure would be preserved for its proper use, instead of being perverted into a source of infection.” Vizard listened civilly, and, as she stopped, requested her to go on. “I think we have had enough,” said Zoe, bitterly. Rhoda, who was in love with Zoe, hung her head, and said, “Yes; I have been very bold.” “Fiddlestick!” said Vizard. “Never mind those girls. _You_ speak out like a man: a stranger's eye always discovers things that escape the natives. Proceed.” “No; I won't proceed till I have explained to Miss Vizard.” “You may spare yourself the trouble. Miss Vizard thought Islip was a paradise. You have dispelled the illusion, and she will never forgive you. Miss Dover will; because she is like Gallio--she careth for none of these things.” “Not a pin,” said Fanny, with admirable frankness. “Well, but,” said Rhoda, naively, “I can't bear Miss Vizard to be angry with me; I admire her so. Please let me explain. Islip is no paradise--quite the reverse; but the faults of Islip are not _your_ faults. The children are ignorant; but you pay for a school. The people are poor from insufficient wages; but you are not paymaster. _Your_ gardeners, _your_ hinds, and all your outdoor people have enough. You give them houses. You let cottages and gardens to the rest at half their value; and very often they don't pay that, but make excuses; and you accept them, though they are all stories; for they can pay everybody but you, and their one good bargain is with you. Miss Vizard has carried a basket all her life with things from your table for the poor.” Miss Vizard blushed crimson at this sudden revelation.