"It makes me feel awful. Things are unevenly divided in this world, aren't they, Nan?" "They are, my dear; but as that problem has baffled wiser heads than yours, it's useless for you to worry over it. You can't reform the world." "No; and I don't intend to try. But I can do something to help. I know I can. That's where people show their lack of a sense of proportion. I know I can't do anything for the world, as a world, but if I can help in a few individual cases, that will be my share. For instance, if I can help this Christine Farley to an art education, and so to a successful career, why that's so much to the good. And though father has set me a hard task to bring it about, I'm going to do it yet." "Your father wouldn't have set you such a task if you hadn't declared it was no task at all! You said you could earn your living easily in a dozen different ways. Already you've discarded two." "That leaves me ten!" said Patty, airily. "Ten ways of earning a living is a fair show. I can discard nine more and still have a chance." "All right, Patsy. I'm glad you're not disheartened. And I suppose you are learning something of the conditions of our social economy." "Gracious, Nan! How you _do_ talk! Are you quite sure you know what you mean?" "No, but I thought you would," said Nan, and with that parting shot, she left the room. It was late in the afternoon before Patty dawdled downstairs. Her shoulders and the back of her neck still ached, but otherwise she felt all right again, and her spirits had risen proportionately. About four o'clock Kenneth called, bringing a mysterious burden, which he carried with great care. He knew of Patty's scheme, and though he appreciated the nobility of her endeavour, he could not feel very sanguine hopes of her success. "You're not cut out for a wage-earner, Patty," he had said to her; "it's like a butterfly making bread." "But I don't want to be a butterfly," Patty had pouted. "Oh, I don't mean butterfly,--as so many people do,--to represent a frivolous, useless person. I have a great respect for butterflies, myself. And you radiate the same effect of joy, happiness, gladness, and beauty, as a butterfly does when hovering around in the golden sunshine of a summer day." "Why, Ken, I didn't know you were a poet. But you haven't proved your case." "Yes, I have. It's your mission in life to be happy, and so to make others happy. This you can do without definite effort, so stick to your calling, and let the more prosaic people, the plodders,--earn wages." "Let me earn the wages of my country, and I care not who makes it smile," Patty had rejoined, and there the subject had dropped. To-day, when he arrived, carrying what was evidently something fragile, Patty greeted him gaily. "I'm not working to-day," she said; "so you can stay 'most an hour if you like." "Well, I will; and if you'll wait till I set down this precious burden, I'll shake hands with you. I come, like the Greeks, bearing gifts."