"It must be very hard on her to stay in the house all the time. I wonder if I might take her to drive with me once in a while?" A scarlet flush passed over Lena's face at the very idea of her mother's querulous vulgarity being displayed to this woman, and Mrs. Lenox could not help seeing her embarrassment. A little wave of pity swept over the older woman. It must be a cruel fate to be ashamed of one's surroundings. Mrs. Lenox herself was one of those serious-minded persons who regard their opportunities as responsibilities. She waged constant warfare with the dominion of externals, and believed with all her heart that the life was more than raiment; but a momentary doubt assailed her as to whether, after all, it might not be easier to conquer things when one owned them, rather than when one had to do without them. It has generally been Dives who is represented as enslaved by the goods of this world. Perhaps Lazarus, if his heart is absorbed in sordid longing for what others have and he has not, stands just as poor a chance of the kingdom of Heaven. What could she do to make Miss Quincy feel at ease? The girl certainly had brains and character. Dick had told them of her brave bearing of burdens. This stiff back and this silence were but the tribute of shyness to new surroundings. So ran Mrs. Lenox's swift thoughts and she set herself to make Lena talk about the things with which she was familiar, to link her past to this present. Evidently the same thought was flitting through Madeline's brain, for before Mrs. Lenox spoke she began: "Do you know, Miss Quincy, I have felt a little envy of you ever since Dick first told us about you." "Envy! Of me?" Lena exclaimed, moved to genuine surprise. "Yes," Madeline went on, leaning forward, eager to explain herself. "You see, I seem to have had a good deal of training, which looks as though it should prepare me to do something, and then--then I don't do anything. It makes me feel flat and unprofitable. I'd like to feel like you every night--as though I'd really accomplished a thing or two." "Isn't it like Madeline to try to make the girl feel the dignity of drudgery!" Mrs. Lenox said to herself. "The stuck-up thing!" thought Lena; "rubbing it into me that she does not have to work for her living." She was tempted to make a sharp answer, but remembered her diplomacy and held it in. "Work isn't always so pleasant when you're in it," she said. "Everything is apt to look rough around the edges until you hold it off and get a view of it as a whole," Mrs. Lenox put in. "Even love--sometimes. But I think that, next to love, work is about the best thing in life." "Oh, that depends," Madeline cried. "When I read papers at clubs, people talk about my 'work', but nobody thinks that it is worth while. I'd like to earn a dollar, just as a guaranty that some one thought the thing I did was worth it." "Gracious!" Lena exclaimed in genuine surprise. "Do you really feel that way about earning money?"