Mabel registered what she fondly hoped was a look of scorn. She did not speak, and after a moment Mrs. Brewster continued:
"What was her chosen field of endeavor? In other words, what job did she get?"
"She became a newspaper woman," said Mabel.
"But what did she do in the meantime? What did she do while she was learning to do newspaper work? Didn't you say she was a girl about your age?"
Mabel answered patiently.
"She became a newspaper writer at once," she said. "Don't you see, mamma, that is just the point? She went away from all the worries of her own home, where she never had time to think things out for herself, and it gave her a chance to expand. While she was at home her time was so broken."
"I see," said Mrs. Brewster. "I suppose her cruel parents expected her to dust and wash dishes and mend her clothes and practice, and all that. It was a great pity. I suppose there are a great many parents like that—so thoughtless."
"Indeed there are!" said Mabel with feeling. For the moment, hearing her mother agree with her, she forgot to whom she was talking. "If mothers and fathers only could understand that girls want to be free, that they want to expand and be themselves, everything would be different."
"I don't doubt it at all," said Mrs. Brewster. She left the room and Mabel continued the train of pleasant thought. She made no move to help about supper, and Mrs. Brewster did not call her. Remembering that the girl she had read about was accustomed to sit at her piano and compose most beautiful melodies whenever she was disturbed or wanted to soothe herself, Mabel went to the piano and, putting a firm foot on the forbidden loud pedal, broke into what she fondly told herself were crashing chords palpitating with the suppressed passion of her breaking heart. The sounds thrilled her, and she continued until interrupted by a roar from Frank who was doing his algebra at the kitchen table.
"Aw, Mabe, have a heart and quit that noise, will you?" he begged.