"Girls, some of these letters worry me. I don't want to preach--you
will lead your own lives. But I cannot help reminding you of the things
we talked about--the splendid things, exciting things that are stirring
in this land today. Oh, what a chance for women--what openings with
narrow doors--what fights to make the doorways wide for the girls who
will come after you! Keep yourselves strong and awake and alive--keep
growing--remember that life is a school and for you it has only just
begun. Don't sit at your desks--in your homes, I mean--blinking with a
man at your side. Keep yourselves free--don't marry for money--don't
let yourselves get under the thumb of any husband, rich or poor, or of
social position or money or clothes or any such silly trumpery. Get the
real things! Oh, I'm preaching, I know, as I did in spite of myself at
home. But girls--dear friends and comrades--be strong--and don't give
up the ship!"

Ethel read it many times. She could hear the voice of the little
"prof," now earnest, scornful, pleading, now obstinate and angry,
again light-hearted, mocking. She recalled how their leader had warned
them against the bribery of men. Most of the girls had smiled at her
then, for they had felt themselves so strong and clear in their aims and
desires.

"Oh, Ethel--Ethel--Ethel Knight. How have the mighty fallen. One week
in New York and your eyes were glued to the windows of shops. You got
ready to dance and find a man."

The thought rose in her mind--"That was Amy's idea." But she dismissed
it with a frown. She turned back to the letters and read them all
through over again. She rose and walked slowly up and down with her