They had at this moment reached the top of the steep slope below which the river ran brawling among the rocks, and Nora seated herself exactly where she had sat on the previous evening.

‘I have been down scores of times,’ said Priscilla.

  ‘Let us go now.’

‘You wouldn’t go when Hugh asked you yesterday.’

‘I didn’t care then.  But do come now if you don’t mind the climb.’  Then they went down the slope and reached the spot from whence Hugh Stanbury had jumped from rock to rock across the stream.  ’You have never been out there, have you?’ said Nora.

‘On the rocks?  Oh, dear, no!  I should be sure to fall.’

‘But he went; just like a goat.’

‘That’s one of the things that men can do, I suppose,’ said Priscilla.  ‘But I don’t see any great glory in being like a goat.’

’I do.  I should like to be able to go, and I think I’ll try.  It is so mean to be dainty and weak.’

‘I don’t think it at all dainty to keep dry feet.’

‘But he didn’t get his feet wet,’ said Nora.  ’Or if he did, he didn’t mind.  I can see at once that I should be giddy and tumble down if I tried it.’

‘Of course you would.’

‘But he didn’t tumble down.’

‘He has been doing it all his life,’ said Priscilla.

’He can’t do it up in London.  When I think of myself, Miss Stanbury, I am so ashamed.  There is nothing that I can do.  I couldn’t write an article for a newspaper.’

‘I think I could.  But I fear no one would read it.’

‘They read his,’ said Nora, ’or else he wouldn’t be paid for writing them.’  Then they climbed back again up the hill, and during the climbing there were no words spoken.  The slope was not much of a hill, was no more than the fall from the low ground of the valley to the course which the river had cut for itself; but it was steep while it lasted; and both the young women were forced to pause for a minute before they could proceed upon their journey.  As they walked home Priscilla spoke of the scenery, and of the country, and of the nature of the life which she and her mother and sister had passed at Nuncombe Putney.  Nora said but little till they were just entering the village, and then she went back to the subject of her thoughts.  ’I would sooner,’ said she, ’write for a newspaper than do anything else in the world.’

‘Why so?’

’Because it is so noble to teach people everything!  And then a man who writes for a newspaper must know so many things himself!  I believe there are women who do it, but very few.  One or two have done it, I know.’

’Go and tell that to Aunt Stanbury, and hear what she will say about such women.’

‘I suppose she is very prejudiced.’

’Yes; she is; but she is a clever woman.  I am inclined to think women had better not write for newspapers.’

‘And why not?’ Nora asked.

’My reasons would take me a week to explain, and I doubt whether I have them very clear in my own head.  In the first place there is that difficulty about the babies.  Most of them must get married, you know.’