She and her father had planned that she should be a teacher, and to that end she had taken great care with all her studies. Her mother had felt that she had had quite enough of school when she graduated from the high school, but her father encouraged her to take up the teachers’ course. But five long years of nursing had broken in upon her fondest hopes. She realized that it was rather late for her to think of going back to teachers’ school and completing her course. Quietly, patiently, she had relinquished the idea. Nevertheless, she had hoped to be able to do something else in the world that would bring her into contact with the things she most longed to see and hear and know. And the city was the only place where she could hope for that.

There were lectures, free libraries, great music, and sometimes exhibitions of wonderful pictures. She felt instinctively that there was still opportunity for her to acquire a certain amount of true education and mental culture; and she knew in her inmost soul that it was not to be found in that Vermont farmhouse, where the days would follow one another in a monotonous succession of homely household duties, enlivened by Jennie’s pleasant shallow chatter. Jennie’s idea of life was to keep one’s house spotless and then to sit down with her sewing in the afternoon and enjoy it. She could not understand what more Marion wanted.

That might be all very well for Jennie. It would be Jennie’s house and Jennie’s children. Jennie cared for no more. It was certainly commendable in her. She was a good wife and mother. But Marion, even though she owned a part of the house, could not seem to feel that she really belonged there since her father’s death. It was as though the home had passed into other hands.

Jennie had taken command in the house years ago, when Marion’s mother first fell ill, and had always treated Marion as if she were a child who ought to do whatever she was told. There had been nothing else to do at that time but to put Jennie in command. It had been good of Jennie to be willing to give up her own home and come to help them out. Marion had always recognized that and tried patiently to do whatever Jennie asked in the ceaseless round of duties, relieving Jennie whenever it had been possible.

But now she felt that the time had come when she could no longer go on as an under-servant, stifling the life that was in her for no reason at all. If it had been necessary for Tom’s sake, or even for Jennie’s or for the children’s good, in any way, she would never have faltered. But here was no reason for anyone’s sake why it was necessary for her to go on working in her brother’s household, almost as if she were a sort of dependent. Half of the property, of course, belonged to her. And Tom had been doing a good business. He had money in the bank aside from what his father had left. If Tom went to farming he would make that pay, too. He was an active, successful man. He could afford to hire a servant if Jennie wanted one. And Nannie was old enough to help a good deal. She often cared for the baby when her mother was busy.

Of course, if they had stayed on here at the old home, Marion would have felt that for a time, while the baby was so young, she ought to give all the help she could to Jennie. But Jennie seemed to talk as if this state of things was to go on forever.