“Yet you are helping on this concern.”
“True, but partly pour passer le temps, partly because I really want to hear ‘The Outlaws Isle’ performed, and all under protest that the windmill will soon be swept away by the stream.”
“Indeed, yes,” cried Dolores. “They hope to regulate the stream. They might as well hope to regulate Mississippi.”
“Well-chosen simile! The current is slow and sluggish, but irresistible.”
“Better than stagnating or sticking fast in the mud.”
“Though the mud may be full of fair blossoms and sweet survivals,” said Gerald sadly.
“Oh yes, people in the old grooves are delightful,” said Dolores, “but one can’t live, like them, with a heart in G. F. S., like my Aunt Jane, really the cleverest of any of us! Or like Mysie, not stupid, but wrapped up in her classes, just scratching the surface. Now, if I went in for good works I would go to the bottom—down to the slums.”
“Slums are one’s chief interest,” said Gerald; “but no doubt it will soon be the same story over and over, and only make one wish—”
“What?”
“That there could be a revolution before I am of age.”