"Why not?" I asked.

"I never thought of such a thing. I don't know enough."

"But you can learn."

"I know, but that kind of work ought to be done by men."

"We've given men a chance, and they have made the evils. Whose
business is it to protect the children if not the women's?"

She hesitated a moment, and then said: "I suppose you'll laugh at
me."

"No, no," I promised; then as I looked at her I guessed. "Are you
going to tell me that woman's place is the home?"

"That is what we think in Castleman County," she said, smiling in
spite of herself.

"The children have got out of the home," I replied. "If they are
ever to get back, we women must go and fetch them."

Suddenly she laughed--that merry laugh that was the April sunshine
of my life for many years. "Somebody made a Suffrage speech in our
State a couple of years ago, and I wish you could have seen the
horror of my people! My Aunt Nannie--she's Bishop Chilton's
wife--thought it was the most dreadful thing that had happened since
Jefferson Davis was put in irons. She talked about it for days, and