"
"Women without children can do so much for the children of others,"
observed Mrs. Thornbury gently.
"I sketch a great deal," said Mrs. Elliot, "but that isn't really an
occupation. It's so disconcerting to find girls just beginning doing
better than one does oneself! And nature's difficult--very difficult!"
"Are there not institutions--clubs--that you could help?" asked Mrs.
Thornbury.
"They are so exhausting," said Mrs. Elliot. "I look strong, because of
my colour; but I'm not; the youngest of eleven never is."
"If the mother is careful before," said Mrs. Thornbury judicially,
"there is no reason why the size of the family should make any
difference. And there is no training like the training that brothers and
sisters give each other. I am sure of that. I have seen it with my own
children. My eldest boy Ralph, for instance--"
But Mrs. Elliot was inattentive to the elder lady's experience, and her
eyes wandered about the hall.
"My mother had two miscarriages, I know," she said suddenly. "The first
because she met one of those great dancing bears--they shouldn't be
allowed; the other--it was a horrid story--our cook had a child and
there was a dinner party. So I put my dyspepsia down to that."
"And a miscarriage is so much worse than a confinement," Mrs. Thornbury
murmured absentmindedly, adjusting her spectacles and picking up _The_
_Times_.
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