"Then, after all," said Anne, "the mistake is not in what we quiet people call decorous, and proper, and feminine; but only that you, with your high spirits and courage, have the misfortune to be called Marjory, instead of Ralph; that is all; for here, you see, are Miss Aytoun and myself, and all the womankind of Strathoran to back us, who have no ambition whatever to follow the hounds, nor any very particular interest in the leading article. It is merely an individual mistake, Marjory. Acknowledge it." "Not I," exclaimed Miss Falconer; "it is a universal oppression of the sex. They try to reason us down first, these men; and failing that, they laugh us down: they will not be able to accomplish either, one of these days. There! how you turn upon me, with that provoking smile of yours, Anne Ross. What are you thinking of now?" "Do you remember a little poem--I think of Southey's," said Anne, smiling--"about the great wars of Marlbro' and Prince Eugene, long ago? I was thinking of its _owerword_, Marjory--'What good came of it at last? said little Wilhelmine.'" "Ah, that is just like you," said Miss Falconer; "coming down upon one with your scraps of poetry, when one is speaking common sense. Oh, you need not raise your eyebrows! I tell you I am speaking quite reasonably and calmly; and we shall see, one day." "But, Miss Falconer," inquired Alice, timidly, "what shall we see?" "See! Why, a proper equality between men and women, as we were created," said Miss Falconer, vehemently. "No more bandaging up our minds, as they do the feet of the poor girls in China--oppressing us for their own whims, everywhere! No more shutting us out of our proper share in the management of the world--no more confining us in housekeepers' rooms and nurseries; to make preserves, and dress babies!" "Are the babies to be abolished, then?" said Anne. "For pity's sake, Marjory, do not sentence the poor little things to masculine nurses. Farewell to all music or harmony, then. If we are to dress babies no more, let it be ordained, I pray you, that there shall be no more babies to dress!" "Nonsense, Anne!" exclaimed Marjory Falconer, loudly; "you want to ridicule all I say. You are content with the bondage--content to be regarded as a piece of furniture, a household drudge, a pretty doll." "Hush!" said Anne; "spare me the abjective. I am in no danger of your last evil. And see how Miss Aytoun looks at you." "Never mind," said Miss Falconer; "Miss Aytoun will sympathise with me, I am sure; every true woman must. See how they smile at our opinions--how they sneer at our judgment--'Oh, it's only a woman.' I tell you, Anne Ross, all that will be changed by-and-bye. We shall have equal freedom, equal rights--our own proper dignity and standing in the world." "And how will it change our position?" said Anne. "How obtuse you are! Change our position! Why it will make us free--it will emancipate us--it will----" "Particulars, particulars, Marjory?"