'Papa is dreadfully methodical and business-like. He always finds fault with me because I am so unpractical, and will never let me help him, or talk about what interests him; and then he cares for politics. He was so disappointed because he failed in the last election. His great ambition is to be a member of parliament. I know they got him to contest the Kendal borough; but he had no chance, though he spent I am afraid to say how much money. The present member was too popular, and was returned by a large majority. He was very angry because I did not sympathise with him in his disappointment; but how could I, knowing it was for the honour of the position that he wanted it, and not for the highest motives? And then the bribery and corruption were so sickening.' 'I do not think we ought to impute any but the highest motives until we know to the contrary,' returned Mildred, mildly. Ethel coloured. 'You think me disloyal; but papa knows my sentiments well; we shall never agree on these questions--never. I fancy men in general take a far less high standard than women.' 'You are wrong there,' returned practical Mildred, firing up at this sweeping assertion, which had a taint of heresy in her ears. 'Because men live instead of talk their opinions, you misjudge them. Do you think the single eye and the steady aim is not a necessary adjunct of all real manhood? Look at my brother, look at Dr. Heriot, for example; they are no mere worldlings, leading purposeless existences; they are both hard workers and deep thinkers.' 'We will leave Dr. Heriot out of the question; I see he has begun to be perfection in your eyes, Mildred. Nay,'--and Mildred drew herself up with a little dignity and looked annoyed,--'I meant nothing but the most platonic admiration, which I assure you he reciprocates in an equal degree. He thinks you a very superior person--so well-principled, so entirely unselfish; he is always quoting you as an example, and----' 'I agree with you that we should leave personalities in the background,' returned Mildred, hastily, and taking herself to task for feeling aggrieved at Dr. Heriot calling her a superior person. The argument waxed languid at this point; Ethel became a little lugubrious under Mildred's reproof, and relapsed into pathetic egotism again, pouring out her longings for vocation, work, sympathy, and all the disconnected iota of female oratory worked up into enthusiasm. 'I want work, Mildred.' 'And yet you dream dreams and see visions.' 'Hush! please let me finish. I do not mean make-believes, shifts to get through the day, fanciful labours befitting rank and station, but real work, that will fill one's heart and life.' 'Yours is a hungry nature. I fear the demand would double the supply. You would go starved from the very place where we poor ordinary mortals would have a full meal.'