Dorinda flinched. "Oh, I've finished with all that!"
"But you haven't. You're too young to give up that side of life."
"I don't care. I'm through with it," repeated Dorinda, and she meant it.
"Well, just remember that we are ready to help you at any time. It would mean nothing to us to invest a few thousand dollars in your farm. You could pay us back when you succeeded."
"And I could pay you interest all the time."
"Of course—if it would make you feel easier. Only don't let your foolish pride stand in the way of achieving something in the end."
Dorinda gazed thoughtfully out of the window. Her pride was foolish, she supposed, but it was all that she had. With nothing else to fall back on, she had taken refuge in an exaggerated sense of independence.
"You are so capable," Mrs. Faraday was saying, "that I am sure you will never fail in anything that you undertake. The doctor was telling me only yesterday that, for a woman without special training, your efficiency is really remarkable. It isn't often the girls of your age are so practical."
A laugh without merriment broke from Dorinda's lips. "That would please my mother," she said. "They used to say at Old Farm that my head was full of notions."
"Most young girls' are. But you were fortunate to settle down as soon as you did."