"I think human nature is about the same the world over, though I admit the difference in points of view."
"Tell me some more of your observations of the 'Tibbett girls' as I hear them called. How did you happen to discover so much?"
"It was very easy. Miss Phenie sits at the head of the table and serves the dessert. Miss Phosie pours the tea and coffee, which is a harder job. Miss Phenie always helps herself to the largest supply of cream, the choicest berries, the best piece of anything that comes her way. She complacently accepts any service that Miss Phosie offers yet never tries to return it. I will give you an instance: She was crocheting a little affair to throw over her head when she goes out of doors—she takes plenty of time to do such things—and I heard her say to her sister, 'You ought to have one of these, Phosie.' 'I'd like it if I had time to make it,' said Miss Phosie. I saw Miss Phenie begin a second one, and thought of course it was for her sister, but, bless you, no. She thought she'd like a dark as well as a light one. I could have shaken her."
Kenneth nodded. "I know the kind. I have in mind such another who is possessed of a sort of mental indolence which makes her intolerant of anything but absolute ease. She detests the effort that is necessary in order to extract comfort from moderate means. She is so self-indulgent that anything short of luxury she fiercely declares she detests. She could no more understand the joy of sacrifice as you call it than she could understand the language of another world."
"It is the language of another world," declared Gwen; "the spiritual world."
Kenneth nodded. "Yes, hers is a very material one, I am sorry to say. The material things are the only ones she values. I think that is why I value them so little, and why my ambitions do not run in the direction of money-getting. I would rather find the happiness that comes along the way of common things, than to work for the mere sake of piling up gain. Work, when it can be at the thing one most loves, is the greatest joy in the world."
Gwen looked at him a little surprised. "I believe I misunderstood you. I thought you were—"
"Lazy?" He laughed. "I don't believe I am that, but I have been called selfish because I would not become a mere calculating machine. The thing I most love, for which I have the most ability is painting, and I am making a desperate try at success in that direction. Some day I may arrive. Meanwhile I am not starving my best self, though I do not fare sumptuously every day."
"I understand," returned Gwen. "I am glad you told me."
"Thank you. I thought you would understand. But what a serious talk we are having. Such a day as this has been arouses us out of conventionalities, and we have to be honest in the face of the stupendous forces of nature. I saw your friend Luther Williams out looking after his nets. I fancy they must be badly damaged by the storm."