To Winona her mother's tearful confidences came as a shock. Up to the
present she had been so intensely interested in school affairs that she
had given scarcely a thought to her future career. Life had existed for
her in detail only to the end of the summer term, after that it had
stretched a nebulous void into which her imagination had never troubled
to penetrate. Now she took herself seriously to task, and tried to face
the prospect of the time when she would have left the Seaton High
School. There were many occupations open to girls nowadays besides
teaching; they could be doctors, secretaries, sanitary inspectors,
artists, musicians, poultry farmers. She knew however, that for any
career worth taking up a considerable training would be necessary, and a
certain amount of expense involved. What she would have liked very much
would be to study at a Physical Training College, and qualify to become
a Drill and Games Mistress, but this seemed as unattainable as taking a
medical course or going to Girton or Newnham.
"I'm too young yet for a hospital nurse," she pondered, "and not clever
enough to be an artist or a musician. Well, I suppose I can make
munitions, or go on the land! Women are wanted on farms while the war
lasts. I could earn my own living, perhaps. But oh, dear! That wouldn't
be boosting on the children! I'm afraid mother's fearfully disappointed
with me."
She seemed to be looking at things in a new light, and to see her
position as it affected others. She was young and brave; surely it was
her part to shoulder the family burdens, to shield the frail little
mother who grew less and less able to cope with difficulties, to hold
out a strong helping hand to the younger brothers and sisters, and so
justify her existence on this planet. It had not before occurred to her
how much her home people relied on her. The thought of it brought a
great lump into her throat. She must not fail them. She could not yet
see her way clearly, but somehow she must be a comfort and a support to
them, that she was quite resolved.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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