Mary's face took on an injured expression. "Do you think it is quite kind of you to taunt me with never having tasted the sweets of independence?" she asked.
"But you are independent of the necessity to toil," said Katherine.
"That is not true independence. Riches might take to themselves wings, banks might break, investments fail, then where should I be? I am only independent because fate has given me the use of money I have never earned. But you are different; you can carve your own destiny, and are master of yourself."
"Am I? Don't indulge in any such mistaken ideas, I beg of you," broke in Katherine, with a little grimace as in fancy she smelled again the soap and the brimstone which had offended her so much in the store. "I set out to be a school teacher, and came home from Montreal with my head packed full of theories concerning how teaching ought to be done, and how I meant to do it. The first disappointment came when I found there were no children of school age obtainable, except Miles and Phil; for it is very hard to theorize upon one's own kith and kin, at least I found it so. Night school, also, is not an easy practice-ground for new methods, which was disappointment number two; and then came Father's illness, which has settled once and for all the question of my teaching, and has caged me up to the business of the store, whether I would or no. So how can I carve my own destiny, pray?"
Mary clapped her hands. "Why, can't you see that is what you are doing all the time? In spite of adverse circumstances you have done your very utmost, and consequently your very best. You have been brave, patient, cheerful, and always you have spent yourself for others until——"
"Oh, spare me any more, and let us talk about something else!" cried Katherine impatiently; her cheeks were getting hot, and her memory was pointing to many a time when she had been neither brave, nor patient, nor cheerful.
"Yes, of course we will talk of something else, and now you shall have the reverse of the picture, for I want to talk about myself," Mary said, with a quick flush which made the heart of the other turn chill and cold, with dread of what might be coming next.
"Self is a sorry subject for over-much meditation, don't you think? And introspection is very bad for invalids," Katherine said nervously.
"I'm not an invalid, not in that sense at least; I am only incapacitated through having twisted my ankle. But I simply must confide in somebody, or I don't know what will happen to me. I can't open my heart to my daddy; he has had cares enough concerning me already; while if I tried to tell Mrs. Burton she would be so shocked that she would refuse to come and look after me any more; then whatever would become of me until I can get about and look after myself again?"
Katherine laughed, although her heart was heavy as lead. It was plain she would have to be taken into confidence whether she would or no. It was equally plain that she would have to face the consequences afterwards, for she was not the sort of girl who would be untrue to herself.