And so it came about that when Nan flattened her nose against the window-pane on that rainy day, she also flattened her spirits by a deliberate survey of her available accomplishments; and when, half an hour later, Evelyn came in, it was to find her younger sister, the stalwart ex-champion of independence and fun, with a shiny nose and moist-looking eyes! “Why, my dear Nannie,” said Evelyn, tenderly, hastening to her sister’s side and putting her arms about her, “what troubles you?” This sympathy caused a fresh sniffle, to be duly smothered in the damp handkerchief, while the meek sufferer moaned, “Oh, I’m _mad_!” [Illustration: THE CHAMPION NEEDS ENCOURAGEMENT.] Evelyn smiled, for she knew that when Nan thought how “mad” she was, she would stop crying. “Yes,” she resumed brokenly, though her voice gained strength as she went on, “I am about as disgusted and angry as I can be!” “For what reason?” asked her sister. “Because,” replied Nan, with a catch in her breath, “because I’m not a _man_—if you must know! Here only yesterday I had enough courage and determination to start two boys in a good lucrative business, and now to-day I face the fact that nobody has expected me to do or to be anything in particular, and that all my expensive education hasn’t provided me with a single weapon to fight my way with, if I had to fight. Why, even if I were reduced to begging,” she added, with a sniff, “I shouldn’t know enough to warm over the cold pieces I received! Don’t you think it is just too bad to be a girl?” “I used to think so,” Evelyn answered slowly, turning her head away to arrange the draping of a curtain. But in a moment she resumed her elderly-sister fashion of speech—she was three years Nan’s senior—“No, Nannie, if you really wish to be brave and self-reliant, you have full opportunity to be so, as you are.” “But what can I _do_?” broke in Nan, stormily; “boys always have some occupation ready and waiting for them.” “Oh, no, they haven’t!” answered Evelyn. “Just think how many college students we have known who haven’t decided on a profession until their senior year. They study the various branches and callings until they find in which line they have the most ability.” “Oh, dear! there it is again!” sighed Nan hopelessly “they always do develop a taste for something, and then everything is all right. But I don’t long to do _anything_ except to be miserable about it,” she again sighed. “But, to return to the point at issue, my dear sister, will you have the kindness to mention _what_ I do well?” “You are capable in many ways and at many tasks; whatever you do succeeds.” “What?” wildly demanded Nan. “Why, your hats are more Parisian than Paris; you draw well, paint well, and you are certainly very ingenious. Look at this room!”