"Work doesn't hurt anybody," commented Dorian.

"No; but all work and no play, I was plainly reminded just the
other day, doesn't always make Jack a dull boy: sometimes, it makes
dissatisfaction and rebellion--and it seems it has done that here.
Carlia, I'll admit had very little company, saw very little of society.
I realize that now when it may be too late."

"Oh, I hope not," said Dorian.

"Carlia, naturally, was full of life. She wanted to go and see and
learn. All these desires in her were suppressed so long that this is the
way it has broken loose. Yes, I suppose that's true."

Dorian let the father give vent to his feelings in his talk. He could
reply very little, for truth to say, he realized that the father was
stating Carlia's case quite accurately. He recalled the girl when he and
she had walked back and forth to and from the high school how she had
rapidly developed her sunny nature in the warm, somewhat care-free
environment of the school life, and how lately with the continual
drudgery of her work, she had changed to a pessimism unnatural to one
of her years. Yes, one continual round of work at the farm house is apt
either to crush to dullness or to arouse to rebellion. Carlia was of the
kind not easily crushed.... But what could they now do? What could
he do? For, it came to him with great force that he himself was not
altogether free from blame in this matter. He could have done more,
vastly more for Carlia Duke.

"Well, Brother Duke," said Dorian. "Is there anything that I can do?"