"A person would think you'd been through the wars, Cornelia," said her mother. "I don't care! It's a shame!" "It _is_ a shame, Nelie," said Mrs. Burton, soothingly; and she added, unguardedly, "and I _told_ Mr. Ludlow so, when he spoke about a girl's being happily married, as if there was no other happiness for a girl." "Oh! _He_ thinks that, does he?" "No, of course, he doesn't. He has a very high ideal of women; but he was just running on, in the usual way. He told afterwards how hard the girl art-students work in New York, and go ahead of the young men, some of them--where they have the strength. The only thing is that so few of them have the strength. That's what he meant." "What do you think, mother?" asked the girl with an abrupt turn toward her. "Do you think I'd break down?" "I guess if you didn't break down teaching school, that you hated, you won't break down studying art, when you love it so." "Well," Cornelia said, with the air of putting an end to the audience, "I guess there's no great hurry about it." She let her mother follow Mrs. Burton out, recognizing with a smile of scornful intelligence the ladies' wish to have the last word about her to themselves. VIII. "I don't know as I ever saw her let herself go so far before," said Mrs. Saunders, leaning on the top of the closed gate, and speaking across it to Mrs. Burton on the outside of the fence. "I guess she's thinking about it, pretty seriously. She's got money enough, and more than enough." "Well," said Mrs. Burton, "I'm going to write to Mr. Ludlow about it, as soon as I get home, and I know I can get him to say something that'll decide her." "So do!" cried Mrs. Saunders, delighted. She lingered awhile talking of other things, so as to enable herself to meet Cornelia with due unconsciousness when she returned to her. "Have you been talking me over all this time, mother?" the girl asked. "We didn't hardly say a word about you," said her mother, and now she saw what a good thing it was that she had staid and talked impersonalities with Mrs. Burton. "Well, one thing I know," said the girl, "if she gets that Mr. Ludlow to encourage me, I'll never go near New York in the world." Mrs. Saunders escaped into the next room, and answered back from that safe distance, "I guess you'd better get _her_ to tell you what she's going to do." When she returned, the girl stood looking dreamily out of the little crooked panes of the low window. She asked, with her back to her mother, "What would _you_ do, if I went?" "Oh, I should get along," said Mrs. Saunders with the lazy piety which had never yet found Providence to fail it. "I should get Miss Snively to go in with me, here. She ain't making out very well, alone, and she could be company to me in more ways than one." "Yes," said the girl, in a deep sigh. "I thought of her." She faced about. "Why, land, child!" cried her mother, "what's the matter?"