Miss Elder, too modestly feminine, too inherently conservative even to be an outspoken "Anti," fairly blushed at the idea.
"She's hesitating on your account," Dr. Bellair explained to the girl. "Wants to see you safely married! I tell her you'll have a thousandfold better opportunities in Colorado than you ever will here."
Vivian was grieved. She had heard enough of this getting married, and had expected Dr. Bellair to hold a different position.
"Surely, that's not the only thing to do," she protested.
"No, but it's a very important thing to do—and to do right. It's a woman's duty."
Vivian groaned in spirit. That again!
The doctor watched her understandingly.
"If women only did their duty in that line there wouldn't be so much unhappiness in the world," she said. "All you New England girls sit here and cut one another's throats. You can't possible marry, your boys go West, you overcrowd the labor market, lower wages, steadily drive the weakest sisters down till they—drop."
They heard the back door latch lift and close again, a quick, decided step—and Mrs. Pettigrew joined them.
Miss Elder greeted her cordially, and the old lady seated herself in the halo of the big lamp, as one well accustomed to the chair.