"My greatest fear is," the girl continued again, "that I do not feel as a woman should with reference to it. I would not dare to tell you how much concerned I am; I am almost afraid to admit it to myself. I am thoroughly convinced that his going away will blight my life, and that I shall always feel toward him as I do now; yet there are grave reasons why I should not become his wife. Do you think the women are better than the men?" The Ancient Maiden leaned back in her chair to think about it, and picked her teeth with the knitting-needle again. "What is your honest opinion?" the girl insisted. "Sometimes I think they are, and sometimes I think they are not," the aunt replied, bending over her work again. "When I hear a man's opinion of a woman, I laugh to myself, for they know nothing of them. The women all seem to be better than they really are, and the men all seem to be worse than they really are; I have often thought that. Women have so many _little_ mean ways, in their conduct toward one another, and are so innocent about it; but when a man is mean, he is mean all over, and perfectly indifferent to what is thought about him. A lot of women get together, and gabble away for hours about nothing, but the men are either up to pronounced mischief or they are at work." "If you were in love with a man, would you have as much confidence in his honesty as you had in your own?" the girl asked. "Certainly," her aunt replied promptly. "Then won't you advise me? Please do; for I have as much confidence in Allan Dorris as I have in myself." "If you will see that all the doors are fastened," Jane Benton replied excitedly, "I will. Quick! Before I change my mind." The girl did as she was directed, and hurried back to her aunt's side.