She--" "Oh, how is dear Mrs.Wilsey ?" said Mrs.Baxter, perhaps not eager for the full list of her activities.
"Well, at present she is in a sanatorium," replied her husband, "from overwork, just plain overwork." Mr.Lanley, catching Mrs.Wayne's twinkling eye, could only pray that she would not point out that a sojourn in a sanatorium was not complete contentment in the home; but before she had a chance, Mrs.
Baxter had gone on.
"That's so like the modern girl--anything but her obvious duty.

She'll help any one but her mother and work anywhere but in the home.

We've had a very painful case at home lately.

One of our most charming young girls has suddenly developed an absolutely morbid curiosity about the things that take place in the women's courts.

Why, as her poor father said to me, 'Mrs.Baxter, old as I am, I hear things in those courts so shocking I have hard work forgetting them; and yet Imogen wants me to let her go into those courts day after day--'" "Oh, that's abnormal, almost perverted," said Mr.Wilsey, judicially.
"The women's courts are places where no--" he hesitated a bare instant, and Mrs.Wayne asked: "No woman should go ?" "No girl should go." "Yet many of the girls who come there are under sixteen." Mr.Wilsey hid a slight annoyance under a manner peculiarly bland.
"Ah, dear lady," he said, "you must forgive my saying that that remark is a trifle irrelevant." "Is it ?" she asked, meaning him to answer her; but he only looked benevolently at her, and turned to listen to Mrs.Baxter, who was saying: "Yes, everywhere we look nowadays we see women rushing into things they don't understand, and of course we all know what women are--" "What are they ?" asked Mrs.Wayne, and Lanley's heart sank.
"Oh, emotional and inaccurate and untrustworthy and spiteful." "Mrs.Baxter, I'm sure you're not like that." "My dear Madam!" exclaimed Wilsey.
"But isn't that logical ?" Mrs.Wayne pursued.