'To learn farming.'

'Oh, dear,' Sophia sighed, 'and we thought--we hoped--'

'She must do as she likes,' Caroline said, and Rose smiled. 'The
Malletts don't care for marrying. Look at us, free as the air and with
plenty of amusing memories. In this world nobody gets more than that,
and we have been saved much trouble. Don't marry, my dear Rose.'

'You're assuming a good deal,' Rose said.

'But Rose is not like us,' Sophia protested. 'We have each other, but
we shall die before she does and leave her lonely. She ought to marry,
Caroline; we ought to have more parties. We are not doing our duty.'

'Parties! No!' Rose said. 'We have enough of them. If you threaten me
with more I shall go into a convent.'

Caroline laughed, and Sophia sighed again. 'That would be beautiful,'
she said.

'Sophia, how dare you?'

Sophia persisted mildly: 'So romantic--a young girl giving up all for
God;' and Caroline gave the ribald laugh on which she prided herself--
a shocking sound. 'Rose Mallett,' Sophia went on, so lost in her
vision that the jarring laughter was not heard, 'such a pretty name--a
nun! She would never be forgotten: people would tell their children.
Sister Rose!' She developed her idea. 'Saint Rose! It's as pretty as
Saint Cecilia--prettier!'