"Oh, wise little school-teacher, how do you know?"
"It is what I teach my children. That they must believe in themselves."
"What else do you teach them?"
"That they must believe in God and love their country, and then nothing can happen to them that they cannot bear. It is only when one loses faith and hope that life doesn't seem worth while."
"And do you believe all that you teach?"
Silence. She was gazing into the fire thoughtfully. "I believe it, but I don't always live up to it. That's the hard part, acting up the things that we believe. I tell my children that, and I tell them, too, that they must always keep on trying."
She was delicious with her theories and her seriousness. And she was charming in the crisp blue gown that had been her uniform since the beginning of Peggy's illness.
He laughed and leaned toward her. "Oh, Mistress Anne, Mistress Anne, how much you have to learn."
She stood up. "Perhaps I know more than you think."
"Are you angry because I said that? But I love your arguments."