“I’m sure she has had a great deal of exercise, and her health is as good as mine was at her age, and she is not a bit thinner in flesh.” Mr. Kendrick made no denial, and his wife continued: “Working in the garden spreads out a girl’s hands, and makes them red; and what man, I should like to know, ever likes hands and arms like a washer-woman’s? You were always praising the smallness and whiteness of mine. I mean before we were married, of course.” Still Kendrick was silent, but his thoughts were very busy. Someway the world was out of joint, and he was wondering if, after all, these radicals, with their talk about making women free and teaching them to depend on themselves, were not pretty near the truth. Here was Frauenstein, for example, rich enough to put a wife in a palace, and surround her with attendants, and he was always admiring women who worked. This he expressed to Mrs. Kendrick, and said that it certainly was commendable in Clara, since she would be a fool and throw away her rights as Delano’s wife, to take care of herself, instead of coming home and living on her father. “Of course,” said his wife; “and we ought never to have cut her. You heard what the count said.” “Who’s to blame for the cutting? Not I. Men don’t cut women, my dear.” “Well, Elias, I think you can take the palm for sneaking out of a responsibility. Men don’t cut women, indeed! I know they don’t; but they insult them worse than we do. I know you bow as graciously to Clara as if she were a duchess; but would you let Louise visit her? You know you wouldn’t. That’s the way men take the part of women whom their wives and daughters avoid.” Mr. Kendrick thought silence the best reply to this just reflection of his wife. He thought he could trust her to bring harmony out of the discord; for while he wanted to keep the count’s money from straying away from the family, she, on her part, was equally anxious to secure his name and rank for Louise; and he knew she would hang on to that hope to the last. The next morning, after breakfast, which had been a serene affair, showing no trace of the perturbation of the previous evening, the count drove over to the doctor’s. The doctor was out, but would return very soon. Frauenstein waited, and spent the time mostly at the piano. The twins were both delighted, though timid, especially in the presence of such a lion. Linnie, after they had sung, asked him to say frankly what he thought of their voices. “Do you allow your sister to speak for you, Miss Leila?” he asked, turning his fine eyes upon hers. “Yes—no,” blushing and laughing just like nothing in the world but a young girl. “I mean yes, in this case,” she finally managed to say.