"Take even you, my precious Carol, perfectly happy, oh, of course, but
all your originality, your uniqueness, the very you-ness of you, will
be absorbed in a round of missionary meetings, and prayer-meetings, and
choir practises, and Sunday-school classes. The hard routine, my dear,
will take the sparkle from you, and give you a sweet, but un-Carol-like
precision and method. Oh, yes, you are happy, but thank you, dear, I
think I'll keep my Self and do my work, and--be an old maid.
"Mr. Orchard offers himself as an alternative to the roars every now
and then, and I expound this philosophy of mine in answer. He shouts
with laughter at it. He says it is so, so like a baby in business. He
reminds me of the time when gray hairs and crow's-feet will mar my
serenity, and when solitary old age will take the lightness from my
step. But I've never noticed that husbands have a way of banishing
gray hairs and crow's-feet and feeble knees, have you? Babies are
nice, of course, but I think I'll baby myself a little.
"I do get so homesick for the good old parsonage days, and all the
bunch, and-- Still, it is nice to be a baby in business, and think how
wonderful it will be when I graduate from my baby-hood, and have brains
enough to write books, big books, good books, for all the world to read.
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