"It's not so easy," said Jane, looking earnestly at him. "It means just the same mental discipline that physical culture means for the muscles. It takes time." "But I'd like to learn," said Lorenzo. "So would I!" said Emily Mead. "I've begun already," said Susan; "every time I think of old Mrs. Croft I say: 'She's here for some good purpose, God help us.'" "Tell me," said Emily Mead, "what possessed you to have her, anyway? Everybody's wondering." "Jane thought that it would be a nice thing to do. And so we did it." "Do you always do things if you think of them?" Emily asked Jane. "I'm taught that I must." "Taught?" "It's part of my sunshine work." "That's why she's here," interposed Susan; "she thought of me and came right along." Emily looked thoughtful. "I wonder if I could learn," she said. "Anybody can learn anything," said Lorenzo. "Wouldn't it be nice to all learn Jane's religion?" "I've got it most learned," said Susan, "I'm to where I'm most ready to stand Matilda, if only we don't have to keep old Mrs. Croft." "What is old Mrs. Croft doing now?" Emily asked suddenly. "She's still asleep. She says that she sleeps late." Then Emily rose to go. Lorenzo Rath rose and left with her. "Jane," said Susan solemnly, after they were alone, "I'm afraid that religion of yours ain't as practical as it might be, after all. It's got us old Mrs. Croft, and I ain't saying a word, but now I'm about positive it's going to lose you that young man. You could have him if you'd just exert yourself a little, and you don't at all." "I couldn't have him, Auntie." "Yes, you could. Don't tell me. I know a young man when I see one, and Mr. Rath's a real young man. He loves you, Jane, just because nobody could help it, and if you weren't always so busy, he'd get on a good deal faster." "I can't marry, Aunt Susan." Jane, with Madeleine's secret high in her heart, was very busy setting the kitchen to rights. "Some people are not meant to have homes of their own. It's the century." "Fiddle for the century," said Susan, with something almost like violence. "I'm awful tired of all this hash and talk about the century. About the only thing I've had to think of since Matilda made up her mind I was too sick to get up, was what I read in newspapers about the troubles of the century. Centuries is always in hot water till they're well over, and then they get to be called the good old days. I guess days ain't so different nor centuries either nor women neither. Fiddle for all this kind of rubbish,--it's no use except to upset a nice girl like you and keep her from marrying a nice young fellow like Mr. Rath. Girls don't know nothing about love no more. Mercy on us, why, it's a kind of thing that makes you willing to go right out and hack down trees for the man."