"Rose, did you bring your sampler with you, as I told you?"
"Yes, mother."
"Sit down, and do a line of marking."
Rose sat down promptly, and wrought according to orders. After a busy pause of ten minutes, her mother asked—
"Do you think yourself oppressed now? A victim?"
"No, mother."
"Yet, as far as I understood your tirade, it was a protest against all womanly and domestic employment."
"You misunderstood it, mother. I should be sorry not to learn to sew: you do right to teach me, and to make me work."
"Even to the mending of your brother's stockings and the making of sheets?"
"Yes."
"Where is the use of ranting and spouting about it, then?"
"Am I to do nothing but that? I will do that, and then I will do more. Now, mother, I have said my say. I am twelve years old at present, and not till I am sixteen will I speak again about talents: for four years, I bind myself an industrious apprentice to all you can teach me."
"You see what my daughters are, Miss Helstone,"
