"Mary Chavah! How did you know how to do things for children?"
"How did you know how?" Mary inquired coolly.
"Why, I've had 'em," Mis' Winslow offered simply.
"Do you honestly think that makes any difference?" Mary asked.
Mis' Winslow gasped, in the immemorial belief that the physical basis of motherhood is the guarantee of both spiritual and physical equipment.
"Could you have cut out that coat?" Mary asked.
Mis' Winslow shook her head. She was of those whose genius is for cutting over.
"Well," said Mary, "I could. It ain't having 'em that teaches you to do for 'em. You either know how, or you don't know how. That's all."
Mis' Winslow reflected that she could never make Mary understand—though any mother, she thought complacently, would know in a minute. The cutting of the coat did give her pause; but then, she summed it up, coat included, "Mary was queer"—and let it go at that.
"I didn't know," Mis' Winslow said then, "but what I could help you some about the little boy's coming. Seven-under-fifteen does teach you something, you've got to allow. Mebbe I could tell you something, now and then. Or if we could do anything to help you get ready for him...."