"Mrs. Lambert, is not everything a sin which cultivates a small conception of life? Is it not a blight on our social life, that women delight in spending all their spare afternoons in playing cards?"
"I see no harm in such a means to sociability. We must have something to bring us together," Mrs. Lambert replied quietly.
"You have spoken the truth," Edith returned gravely. "We must have something to bring us together, and that something has by common consent become a profitless game of cards. Where has that spirit of womanhood flown that prompted our mothers and grandmothers to gather together in sewing bees, or in musical cliques, or even in reading afternoons?"
Mrs. Lambert puckered her brow in mock despair.
"O, my dear girl, you find fault with us for taking life a little easier than our grandmothers, who used to work even in their playtime, while their husbands sat by and smoked. I really think that we ought to congratulate ourselves that we have learned to enjoy ourselves a little and let the men do the hustling."
Edith relaxed her thoughts and smiled slightly. "I see you are determined to be amused at me," she said pleasantly. "There may come a day when women will find a still greater way to enjoy life. I am not so sure that we are happier for your boasted advancement."
"Not happier, but less unhappy," Mrs. Lambert returned with the slightest shade in her laughing eyes.
"Ah; that is it!" the girl responded eagerly. "But won't you drop these wasteful days? Why don't you choose the happiest, the best?"
She had forgotten herself in her enthusiasm, and had leaned forward, placing her hand on the other's arm detainingly.
Mrs. Lambert's petulant frown gathered quickly.