Mrs. Winslow was a large, handsome woman, fond of much company, ambitious for distinction in society and devoted, according to her definitions of success, to the success of her children.  Her youngest boy, Louis, two years younger than Rachel, was ready to graduate from a military academy in the summer.  Meanwhile she and Rachel were at home together.  Rachel’s father, like Virginia’s, had died while the family was abroad.  Like Virginia she found herself, under her present rule of conduct, in complete antagonism with her own immediate home circle.  Mrs. Winslow waited for Rachel to go on.

“You know the promise I made two weeks ago, mother?”

“Mr. Maxwell’s promise?”

“No, mine.  You know what it was, do you not, mother?”

“I suppose I do.  Of course all the church members mean to imitate Christ and follow Him, as far as is consistent with our present day surroundings.  But what has that to do with your decision in the concert company matter?”

“It has everything to do with it.  After asking, ’What would Jesus do?’ and going to the source of authority for wisdom, I have been obliged to say that I do not believe He would, in my case, make that use of my voice.”

“Why?  Is there anything wrong about such a career?”

“No, I don’t know that I can say there is.”

“Do you presume to sit in judgment on other people who go out to sing in this way?  Do you presume to say they are doing what Christ would not do?”

“Mother, I wish you to understand me.  I judge no one else; I condemn no other professional singer.  I simply decide my own course.  As I look at it, I have a conviction that Jesus would do something else.”

“What else?” Mrs. Winslow had not yet lost her temper.  She did not understand the situation nor Rachel in the midst of it, but she was anxious that her daughter’s course should be as distinguished as her natural gifts promised.  And she felt confident that when the present unusual religious excitement in the First Church had passed away Rachel would go on with her public life according to the wishes of the family.  She was totally unprepared for Rachel’s next remark.

“What?  Something that will serve mankind where it most needs the service of song.  Mother, I have made up my mind to use my voice in some way so as to satisfy my own soul that I am doing something better than pleasing fashionable audiences, or making money, or even gratifying my own love of singing.  I am going to do something that will satisfy me when I ask:  ‘What would Jesus do?’ I am not satisfied, and cannot be, when I think of myself as singing myself into the career of a concert company performer.”

Rachel spoke with a vigor and earnestness that surprised her mother.  But Mrs. Winslow was angry now; and she never tried to conceal her feelings.

“It is simply absurd!  Rachel, you are a fanatic!  What can you do?”