"Her education complete at seventeen! Why, Cousin Emily, a woman's education is never complete. At the best schools we get but a dreamy sort of idea of the things we must bring all the faculties of a well-regulated mind to understand in after years. A well-educated woman is one who studies and learns something every day of her life—who thinks about what she sees, and acts upon what she knows."
Cousin Emily lifted up both hands, all covered with shining rings, as if to choke me off. I stopped. Far be it from Phœmie Frost to force the opinions of our Society upon unwilling ears; but I lifted my forefinger in solemn admonishment, and says I:
"Oh, Cousin Emily, Cousin Emily, has it got so that you hold up both hands against common-sense!"
"Not against common-sense," says she, "but against your uncommonly long sentences. Why, Miss Frost, it is like our old-fashioned country preaching."
"Which has died out of your heart, I dare say. Oh, Emily, Emily, what would your sainted mother, my aunt, say?"
This brought the misguided woman to her tears. She sat up on that lace-silk sofa, straight and listening, as I have seen her many a time on the a b c bench at school, when her little feet couldn't touch the floor.
"Cousin Phœmie," says she, "I am trying to do what is right."
"I hope so," says I, with tears of thankfulness in my eyes, for the "Cousin Phœmie" went straight to my heart. "But my mind isn't quite equal to more of this conversation this morning. The next time I come this way we shall both be more like our natural selves."
With that I tightened my cotton gloves, took up my satchel, and left that house, feeling that I had paved the way to a good work hereafter.