I had never dreamed of the relief to the spectator in not seeing any poverty. We were used to it, of course; we had our excuses, religious and economic, we even found, or thought we found, artistic pleasure in this social disease. But now I realized what a nightmare it had been--the sights, the sounds, the smells of poverty--merely to an outside observer. These people had good bodies, too. They were not equally beautiful, by any means; thirty years, of course, could not wholly return to the normal a race long stunted and overworked. But in the difference in the young generation I could see at a glance the world's best hope, that the "long inheritance" is far deeper than the short. Those of about twenty and under, those who were born after some of these changes had been made, were like another race. Big, sturdy, blooming creatures, boys and girls alike, swift and graceful, eager, happy, courteous--I supposed at first that these were the children of exceptionally placed people; but soon found, with a heart-stirring sort of shock, that all the children were like that. Some of the old folk still carried the scars of earlier conditions, but the children were new people. Then of my own accord I demanded reasons. Nellie laughed sweetly. "I'm so glad you've come to your appetite," she said. "I've been longing to talk to you about that, and you were always bored." "It's a good deal of a dose, Nell; you'll admit that. And one hates to be forcibly fed. But now I do want to get an outline, a sort of general idea, of what you do with children. Can you condense a little recent history, and make it easy to an aged stranger?" "Aged! You are growing younger every day, John. I believe that comparatively brainless life you led in Tibet was good for you. That was all new impression on the brain; the first part rested. Now you are beginning where you left off. I wish you would recognize that." I shook my head. "Never mind me, I'm trying not to think of my chopped-off life; but tell me how you manufacture this kind of people." My sister sat still, thinking, for a little. "I want to avoid repetition if possible--tell me just how much you have in mind already." But I refused to be catechised. "You put it all together, straight; I want to get the whole of it--as well as I can." "All right. On your head be it. Let me see--first---- Oh, there isn't any first, John! We were doing ever so much for children before you left--before you and I were born! It is the vision of all the great child-lovers; that children are people, and the most valuable people on earth. The most important thing to a child is its mother. We made new mothers for them--I guess that is 'first.' "Suppose we begin this way: "a. Free, healthy, independent, intelligent mothers. "b. Enough to live on--right conditions for child-raising. "c. Specialized care.