"I've been reading Mythology," pursued Grace, "and some of the nicest goddesses and nymphs didn't marry — Diana, and Minerva, and Clytie, and Sappho."
"We're not goddesses and nymphs, I hope," said Diademia Jones, shaking her head.
"Nor heathens," added Isa, with spirit.
"O, no; but if ladies want to be very great, and do oceans of good, and write poems and everything, why, they mustn't be married. You see how it is, girls; there's so much housekeeping and sewing to attend to."
"But, then," added Lucy Lane, mournfully, "if we're not married, we'll be—old maids!"
"O, no, indeed," said Grace, positively. "Why, if you're great and splendid, you never will—no such a thing! Maria Edgeworth was splendid, and she never was an old maid that ever I heard of. And there was—"
"Grace Greenwood," suggested Cassy, in the tone of one who has added the finishing stroke to an argument.
But the girls exclaimed,—"Why, Grace Greenwood is married; what are you talking about? There, there, people can be married, and be splendid, too."
Grace felt that her cause had received a blow.
"Now, girls," said she, after a pause, "I'll tell you how it is. Grace Greenwood was married a long while ago. If she was a little girl now, and saw such acting boys, she'd say, 'It's an awful thing!' Why, girls, I think, for my part," Grace went on with much dignity, "we lower ourselves, we degrade ourselves, when we associate with boys. They smoke, and chew, and use very improper language. It does seem to me we're white lilies, and they're nothing but—but thistles. Let's faithfully promise not to converse with boys, —unless it's to try and reform them, you know."