"But I'll tell you one thing," went on Mr. Hepworth: "Whatever line you decide upon, let it be something that needs no training. I mean, if you choose to go in for organised charity or settlement work, well and good. But don't attempt Red Cross nursing or kindergarten teaching, or anything that requires technical knowledge. For in these days, only trained labour succeeds, and only expert, at that." "Oh, pshaw," said Patty; "I don't mean to earn money. Though if I wanted to, I'm sure I could. Why, if I _had_ to earn my own living, I could do it as easy as anything!" "I'm not so sure of that," said Mr. Hepworth, gravely. "It isn't so easy for a young woman to earn her living without a technical education in some line." "Well, Patty, you'll never have to earn your own living," said her father, smiling; "so don't worry about that. But I agree with our friend, that you couldn't do it, if you did have to." "That sounds so Irish, daddy, that I think it's as bad as slang. However, I see you are all of unsympathetic nature, so I won't confide in you further as to my aims or ambitions." "I haven't noticed any confidences yet," murmured Nan; "only appeals for help." Patty gave her a withering glance. "The subject is dropped," she said; "let us now talk about the weather." "No," said Hepworth; "let me tell you a story. Let me tell you of a girl I met down South, who, if she only had Patty's determination and force of character, might achieve success, and even renown." "Do tell us about her," said Nan, for Mr. Hepworth was always an interesting talker. "She lives in Virginia, and her name is Christine Farley. A friend of mine, down there, asked me to look at some of her drawings, and I saw at once that the girl has real talent, if not genius." "Of course you would know," said Nan, for Mr. Hepworth himself was a portrait painter of high repute. "Yes, she really has done some remarkable work. But she is poor and lives in a small country town. She has already learned all the local teachers can give her, and needs the technical training of a good art school. With a year of such training she could easily become, I am sure, a successful illustrator. At least, after a year's study, I know she could get good work to do, and then she would rapidly become known." "Can't she manage to do this, in some way?" asked Mr. Fairfield. "No; she is ambitious in her work, but in no other way. She is shy and timid; a country girl, inexperienced in the ways of the world, ignorant of city life, and desperately afraid of New York, which to her is a name for all unknown terrors." "Goose!" said Patty. "Oh, I'm sorry for her, of course; but as an American girl, she ought to have more spunk." "Southern girls don't have spunk, Patty," said her father, with a merry twinkle in his eye. "Don't they! Well, I guess I ought to know! I'm a Southern girl, myself. At least, I was until I was fourteen."