Her reflections took a strange turn, half serious, half humorous.

“It’s like a trap, almost, when you think of it that way,” she thought.  “When a man falls in love, he can climb out again and go on with his work, and live his life, and do wonderful things if he has a chance.  But when a woman falls in the trap, she can never climb out and live her own life again.  I wonder if the world wouldn’t be better off if the women had been allowed to go right on and develop themselves, and do big things like the men do....

“I’m sure they couldn’t do worse....

“Look at the war—­the awfullest thing that ever happened:  that’s a sample of what men do, when they try to do everything themselves....  But they’ll have to let the women out of their traps, if they want them to help....

“I wonder if they ever will let them out....

“I wonder if they ought to come out....

“I wonder....”

To look at Mary as she sat there, tranquil of brow and dreamy-eyed, you would never have guessed that thoughts like these were passing through her mind, and later when Helen took Wally into the next room to show him something, and returned with a smile that was close to ownership, you would never have guessed that Mary’s heart went heavy for a moment.

“Helen,” she said, when their visitor had gone, “do you really love Wally—­or are you just amusing yourself?”

“I only wish that Burdon had half his money.”

“Helen!”

“Oh, it’s easy for you to say ‘Helen’!  You don’t know what it is to be poor....  Well, good-night, beloved—­

“Good-night, good-night
My love, my own—­”

she sang.  “I’ve a busy day ahead of me tomorrow.”

Mary had a busy day, too.

Nearly two hundred women responded to her new advertisement in the morning, and as many more at noon.  Fortunately some of these were familiar with the work, and the most skilful were added to the corps of teachers.  In addition to this, new nurses were telephoned for to take care of the rapidly growing nursery, temporary tables were improvised in the canteen, another battery of ranges was ordered from the gas company, and preparations were made for Archey’s arrival with the laundry equipment.

Yes, it was a busy day and a busy week for Mary; but somehow she felt a glory in every minute of it—­even, I think, as Molly Pitcher gloried in her self-appointed task so many years ago.  And when at the close of each day, she locked her desk, she grew into the habit of glancing up and nodding at the portraits on the walls—­a glance and a nod that seemed to say, “That’s us!”

For myself, I like to think of that long line of Josiah Spencers, holding ghostly consultations at night; and if the spirits of the dead can ever return to the scenes of life which they loved the best, they must have spent many an hour together over the things they saw and heard.