"Pooh! What do _you_ know about real life! You--a silly selfish moth! All you can think of is money, clothes, beaus! "You can't see a spider without fainting, and you mince about the moment you hear John or Tom are near. You're not a woman of _to-day_! You're a manufactured specimen of the past generation. Thank goodness, such as _you_ are on the wane; and even modern men who are looking for mates--not helpless weights upon their backs--select them from the business world where girls are climbing to the top of the ladder as fast as conditions will permit them to. "Don't _you_ sit there with your powdered face and crimped-up hair and tell me I am unladylike! You never thought of being the lady your sister is, and certainly I wouldn't say that you can hold a candle to _me_! I was brought up by a lady, and I call myself as thorough a one as any of your society friends!" "Oh, Polly--dearest!" Eleanor squealed, running over and squeezing her friend in her arms so that she gasped. Then releasing her, said: "I never heard anything so glorious in my life! Not even the suffrage leader in Chicago, when she was stumping for 'Votes for Women,' was ever as thrilling as you!" "Polly, you are right! A girl has as good a right to her individual expression in life as any man has. I will champion your cause, henceforth, and even try to convince your father that he is narrow-minded in his selfishness about tying you to his heels," declared Anne Stewart, bravely throwing down the "glove" to every one. Eleanor now transferred her hugs and admiration to Anne, and Mrs. Brewster lifted her face from the screen of a handkerchief to look at John. Tom Latimer and John exchanged looks, then turned to Mrs. Brewster. John was the first to speak. "Mother, it looks as if 'Polly-Eleanor Company' are going to incorporate themselves in spite of all we can do to claim their shares of stock." "I haven't a doubt but that the 'Polly-Eleanor Company,' is bound to succeed in any venture of life," replied Mrs. Brewster. "Mother, you don't blame me for wanting to get away from you?" cried Polly, running over to her mother. "Dearest, I would be a poor mother if I expected to have my children hang about my neck to remind me that I ought to be petted and worked for, just because I claimed the right of being their parent! Every noble parent is only too willing to judiciously assist a child in finding his or her own niche in life. "I have known for a long time that you would realize how stunting this ranch-life is to your unfolding aspirations. For me, it embraces all that I love and have, but for you two ambitious children of my younger days, it would be a veritable grave.