"Isn't life what we live every day, Momsie? It isn't all made up of worldly things, is it?"
"Upon my word!" Marian cried. "One would think that I had entirely neglected my family!"
"No, Momsie; you have been most ambitious for us, and have made sure that we could have everything you thought we ought to have. Truly it isn't that I don't appreciate what you have done; I simply can't understand why any one should want the things you consider essential. Why, for instance, are you so anxious for me to be married?"
"Because it is natural at this time in your life, Merry." Mrs. Thatcher was determined to have no quarrel, in spite of what she considered just provocation. "It is a mother's duty to advise her daughter when she sees her on the verge of a mistake."
"Suppose I felt that I didn't care to marry, Momsie, that I should be happier to go through life expressing my own individuality?"
"Don't let us get started on that," Marian protested. "You know how little patience I have with feminism in any form. I do wish we might discuss some subject in a normal way as other mothers and daughters do, Merry," she continued, softening. "I have your interests on my mind all the time, I want to help you to understand yourself and life, I love you so, dear child,—and yet, whenever we try to talk anything over, it always turns into an argument. What I have suggested to-day I have thought of for months, I have considered it from every standpoint before presenting it to you, but you give me no credit for that. Before you even know how you feel about it you are ready to dismiss it. I really think my efforts for your happiness are entitled to more consideration."
"You think this would be for Mr. Hamlen's happiness too?" Merry asked soberly.
"I am sure of it," Marian replied, seeming to see a sign of yielding in the girl's question.
"Why hasn't he spoken to me himself?" Merry asked at length.
"He will speak, of course; but to meet with another disappointment would undo all the advance he has made."