Mrs. Green regarded her over her spectacles. "A lot of women have wished that, child. A lot of women have wished it, and then again a lot of women haven't wished it. Some would rather do for themselves an' for others an' some would rather be did for, and that's the world. I've noticed it in men, too."
"It's in my head all the time. I think mother put it there—"
"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Green. "A lot of us have felt that way. But it ain't so easy for women to make money. There's more ways they can't than they can. It's what they call 'Sentiment' fights them. Sentiment don't mind their being industrious, but it draws the line at their getting money for it. It says it ought to be a free gift. It don't grudge—at least it don't grudge much—a little egg and butter money, but anything more—Lord!" She sewed together two strips of blue flannel. "No, it ain't easy. And a woman kind of gets discouraged. She's put her ambition to sleep so often that now with most of them it seems asleep for keeps. Them that's industrious don't expect to rise or anything to come of it, and them that's lazy gets lazier. It's a funny world—for women.—There's a lot of brown strips in the basket there."
"I'm going to tell you what I've done," said Hagar, winding a red ball. "I've written a fairy story—but I don't suppose it will be taken."
"I always knew you could write," said Mrs. Green. "A fairy story! What's it about?"
"About fairies and a boy and a girl, and a lovely land they found by going neither north nor south nor east nor west, and what they did there. It seemed to me right good," said Hagar wistfully; "but I sent it off a month ago, and I've never heard a word about it."
"Where did you send it? I never did know," said Mrs. Green, "how what people writes gets printed and bound. It don't do it just of itself."
Hagar leaned forward in her rocking-chair. Her cheeks were carmine and her eyes soft and bright. "The 'Young People's Home Magazine' offered three prizes for the three best stories—stories that it could publish. And I thought, 'Why not I as well as another?'—and so I wrote a fairy story and sent it. The first prize is two hundred dollars, and the second prize is one hundred dollars, and the third is fifty dollars.—If I could get even the third prize, I would be happy."
"I should think you would!" exclaimed Mrs. Green. "Fifty dollars! I don't know as I ever saw fifty dollars all in one lump—exceptin' war money. When are you going to hear?"
"I don't know. I'm afraid I won't ever hear. I'm afraid it wasn't good enough—not even good enough for them to write to me and say it wouldn't do and tell me why."