wouldn’t it? We’ll have to take up the matter soon. Shall we have our coffee on the terrace?’
“‘Oh, dear, no! The mosquitos are so thick! Besides, the—the crying—’
“For the crying of the little children could be clearly heard by the people in the palaces. Some of them complained, saying that it kept them awake at night; but others said, ‘Nonsense! Why don’t you close the windows on that side of the house? All children cry.’
“Still, those whom it troubled were sure that these children cried more than they ought; certainly more than the Hill children ever did. They thought something ought to be done.
“But in the main the Hill people had very little to trouble them. The air was fresh and clear, and the lawns stretched mile on mile like green velvet, and everybody had plenty to eat and great gardens full of flowers, and the children always played. Nobody dreamed of letting them work. They said that work was not good for little children. Yet—in the Wilderness —but that was different, of course.
“There were some men and women, however, who did not close their windows on the Wilderness side, and had not such a cultivated taste for sunsets that they were able to disregard the annoyances of the swamp. And they kept on listening and worrying, until they said, ‘This is unendurable! If the Wilderness is as old as the race, then it is older than it should he, and the race is too old to endure such folly any longer!’ and they went down, and drained swamps, and fought with beasts and worse, and saved little children, and let in light and air where men and women were working.
“But they grew very tired, and the Wilderness was bigger and wilder than they thought, and—they died. But there were a few little patches of wholesome, firm land where they had drained the swamps, and some of the monsters were dead.
“It was so little, though, that the people on the Hill hardly realized that any work had been done at all. They were still annoyed by the mosquitos. ‘We must under-drain the whole tract, cut down the jungle, and make a park there,’ they said, as they drank their after dinner coffee and cognac on the terraces. But if any were present of those who had been down there themselves, they shook their heads silently.
THESE three sister Princesses talked a great deal among themselves as they sat by their window at sunset.
“‘That morass is as black and wide as the ocean,’ said the eldest, ‘and you can no more make an impression on it than on the ocean. I’m not going to sit here any more. I shall take a room on the other side of the palace, and attend to the matters that belong to my own life.’
“The second one wrung her hands and wept. ‘I’m going down—I’m going down! I can’t stand it any longer!’ And without changing her delicate gown and her satin slippers she rushed away, crying hysterically, to see what good she could do. They tried to stop her; but could not. People who really want to go down there can seldom be stopped. It is enchantment.
“So the eldest one took her suite of rooms toward the east where the morning light cheerful. and she practised her music, and embroidered, and entertained her friends, and was very happy. And by and by a most delightful Prince came and married her, and they moved to a place quite out of hearing of the Wilderness—and I suppose they were happy ever after.
“The poor unhappy Princess who had gone down to help was rescued by the people she had gone to save, and brought home; but she was quite ill and weak, and when she got back her strength she cut off her hair and put a veil upon her head and went into a cloister to pray that other people might do the things she had wanted to do and couldn’t. So only the youngest sister was alone with the old King. Once he came upon her sitting at the western window, and saw the tears in her eyes.
“‘Wouldn’t you like to read in my books?’ he asked. ‘Books are an excellent antidote.’ But the sound of the Wilderness was very distressing that evening. It was hot weather. And that is bad for little children. The Princess shook her head.
“I was thinking of going down,” she said.
“Oh, don’t do that! Now, whatever you do, don’t do that!’ said her father, and went hastily away.
“Nevertheless, she rose and folded away her embroidery, and was thinking about what things it would be best to pack in her suitcase, when a Prince was announced. She had known him for quite awhile, and that he had it in mind to go down himself. Now he had come to say goodby. He was greatly troubled when she thought of going down there herself.
“‘Oh!’ said he. ‘And I was thinking I should have you to come back to—’
“She sat down again to think that over; for she always respected other people’s opinions as much as her own. And the Prince I began to tell all about his plans. It was noticeable that he said very little about being sorry for the Wilderness people. Neither did he tell how much good his work was going to do everybody. No; he was interested in a particularly vicious Giant who lived in one of the worst places, snaky and slimy—and ill smelling. A great many men young and old were already fighting him, and the Prince wanted to join them—if he could win to such an honor. He talked about it in much the way she had heard other Princes discuss polo. He called it ‘specializing.’
“‘You would do a great deal of good,’ said the Princess, taking out her embroidery again; for she never liked to be idle.
“‘I believe,’ said he, ‘that in another ten years we can rid the earth of him.’
“‘You will have to work very hard,’ said she.
“‘Yes,’ said he, ‘work hard, and die poor—and it’s said to be hard on your wife.’
“‘Then—your wife—her work would count—’
“‘I could do double, I think, with you,’ said he.
“And when the old King came in—for he was worried about what the Princess had said of going down to the Wilderness, and was going to argue it with her—he found the two kissing just like any other lovers.
“So,” the kind voice lingered sighingly at this part of the allegory as though to stay for a moment the passing of some evanescent thing, a sunrise, a flight of falling spring petals, “so they were married. For a little while I’m afraid they forgot about the Wilderness. It seemed as if the Hill people were right,—that the best thing to do was just to keep on making all the Hill part of the world as perfect as possible. But they : soon found out that it wouldn’t do, at least for them. Why—” she laughed softly and abruptly left her allegory at loose ends.
MY dear, we meant to go round the world for our wedding trip; but when we were on the steamer, in the middle of the very first week, he left me and my seasickness to the stewardess and spent his time trotting around after one of the stewards whom he had spotted as an interesting ‘case.’ I was deathly ill; but he had seen too much real sickness to be in the least worried. I was on my back feeling that I should like to die, and the steward, but for a face like yellow wax, seemed as well as anybody. But—they put the poor man in a hospital at Antwerp. And your father to this day has no idea how cross I was about his neglect; for I held my tongue until he came back from seeing his ‘case’ to the cot that he would never leave alive. I had been crying all alone in the dismal hotel when he came in.
“‘Well,’ said he, ‘that’s over. Poor fellow! But we’ll get the best of it, some day—any day may bring something tangible. See how Lister has upset things!’ For, you see, my dear, we were just coming out of prehistoric surgery then, even so short a time ago as that. And he went on to talk of his work. He had not even looked at my face. He took me so for granted, don’t you see? And as—as he talked, my silly anger all withered up and blew away, so that when he finally did come over and tell me how pretty I way looking, and all the other nice things, I had learned my lesson—and I rather pride myself that I haven’t had to learn it since. It wasn’t easy.
“You know a little about your father’s fame. Younger men—men like Sid—are taking his place now; but they will always respect him for his pioneer work, even when his theories are overturned and superseded, as he says quite calmly that they soon will be. But, my dear, he says, when he has time to think and speak of such things, that but for me he couldn’t have done it. You know how many operations he has done; but have you any idea how they exhaust him, how hard I have tried to have everything here at home restful for him, how I have fought to get him leisure when I knew he had used his last ounce of strength? There are men of such amazing physique that they could go through it all alone; but Daddy isn’t one of them. He—he needs all I’ve done; he needs the—the pretty things. It—it isn’t just pottering, Deary—” and suddenly Molly’s mother put her rough little hands over her eyes and began to cry.
MOTHER,” cried out Molly, “I never meant —oh, that I should have said such a thing!” But before she could begin to cry too her mother was laughing and kissing her.
“It was only,” said Molly,—”oh, you
