"One must be somewhere, to do something in the world."
"To do what?"
"I don't know — I suppose I shall find my work."
"Work? — what work?" — said Rose wonderingly.
"I don't know yet, Rose. But everybody has something to do in the world — so I have, — and you have."
"I haven't anything. What have we to do, except what we like to do?"
"I hope I shall like my work," said Elizabeth. "I must like it, if I am to do it well."
"What do you mean? — what are you talking of, Lizzie?"
"Listen to me, Rose. Do you think that you and I have been put in this world with so many means of usefulness, of one sort and another, and that it was never meant we should do anything but trifle away them and life till the end of it came? Do you think God has given us nothing to do for him?"
"I haven't much means of doing anything," said Rose, half pouting, half sobbing. "Have you taken up your friend Winthrop Landholm's notions?"