Her work at the office was focussed on the Saturday conference. She wanted her preliminary analysis in tables and graphs clear and adequate enough to present to the men; there would be discrepancies between the apparent system and the actual practice in the state which the commissioner could point out. She hadn't time to complete the study of the normal schools; they were astonishingly numerous and varied. "It's just hit or miss, this whole educational business," she said to Dr. Roberts, on Friday afternoon, as they talked over the material. "No central direction or purpose." "Too much imitation and tradition." Dr. Roberts had his pointed beard between the pages of a catalogue. He lifted it toward her, his bright blue eyes and sharp nose eager on the scent of an idea. "Too little conscious plan. People are afraid of thought. Trial-and-error is the working basis. But that's slow, and you have this heavy crust of tradition." "I'd like to scrap it all and make a fresh beginning!" "There never is such a thing as a fresh beginning. You have to work from what exists." Catherine pushed aside a pile of catalogues, her face alight with scorn. "But why, if it's stale and wrong? Take these normal schools. Young people, girls mostly, go there, because they have to have a diploma to teach. What do they get? Things out of books. They learn to teach paragraphs of geography, not to teach children. It would be ridiculous, except that it is terrible. Perhaps it's because men run them." "Women"--Dr. Roberts smoothed his beard--"are popularly supposed to submit more docilely to tradition." "Supposed by whom?" Catherine's hand sent a catalogue banging to the floor. "That's been a convenient way of holding their wildness under, I think." She felt her mind throw up swift thoughts that burst and scattered like Roman candles. She couldn't gather the splintering brightness. "We've had, as women, too small an orbit." The stenographer thrust her bobbed head into the door, to say that Dr. Roberts was wanted on the telephone. Should she connect his party here? "No, I'll take him on my own 'phone." He rose, smiling. "We'll have to thrash this out to-morrow," he said, "or some day. Don't frighten our committee to-morrow, though, by announcing that you are wild, will you?" * * * * *