'But I don't see any great glory in being like a goat.'
'I do. I should like to be able to go, and I think I'll try. It is so
mean to be dainty and weak.'
'I don't think it at all dainty to keep dry feet.'
'But he didn't get his feet wet,' said Nora. 'Or if he did, he didn't
mind. I can see at once that I should be giddy and tumble down if I
tried it.'
'Of course you would.'
'But he didn't tumble down.'
'He has been doing it all his life,' said Priscilla.
'He can't do it up in London. When I think of myself, Miss Stanbury, I
am so ashamed. There is nothing that I can do. I couldn't write an
article for a newspaper.'
'I think I could. But I fear no one would read it.'
'They read his,' said Nora, 'or else he wouldn't be paid for writing
them.' Then they climbed back again up the hill, and during the
climbing there were no words spoken. The slope was not much of a hill,
was no more than the fall from the low ground of the valley to the
course which the river had cut for itself; but it was steep while it
lasted; and both the young women were forced to pause for a minute
before they could proceed upon their journey.
Pages:
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448