Dangerous Ages

rs. Hilary had gone to bed, "I wish mother could get some regular interest or occup

anywhere else. Sick-visiting, care committees, boys' and girls' cl

"If mother could

ly, even as a girl. She married when she was nineteen and found the only work she was fitted for and interested in. That's over, and there's no

weren't you? I mean, you were ne

ate face hardened for a

and that I must do something with it. So I took up again all of my old work that I could. It was the hardest thing I ever did. I hated it at first. Then I got interested again, and it has kept me going all these years, though I've had to drop most of it now of course. But now I'm so near the end that it doesn't matter. You can drop work at eighty and keep calm and interested in life. You can't at sixty; it's too young.... Mother knows that t

mother," Nev

ever wanted work when she was eighteen. It's the old who need work. They've lost their spring and their zest for life, and need something to hold on to. It's all wrong, the way we arrange it-making the young work and the old sit idle. It should be the other way about. Girls and boys don't get

t merely a married man, after all.... But anyhow I'll find something to amuse my old age, even if I can't work. I'll play patience or croquet or the piano, or all t

Or belong to the Army and sing about rivers of blood. I daresay both are satisfying. All this sermon-on-the-mount-but-no-miracle business is most saddening. Because it'

appeared, in her dressing-gown. She sat down, and said, trying to sound natural and not annoyed and failing. "I heard so much talk, I thought I would co

to Grandmama; it made her jealous. She tried and tried not to feel this, but

ville and I were discussing

them?" Mrs. Hilary enquired, her jealous

to bed, and I'll sit with you, and we'll

lone. You go on with your talk with Grandmama. I hate interrupting like this. I hoped you would ha

Grandmama was infinitely untroubled, and Mrs. Hilary presently picked up her spirits and went back to bed, and Neville spent the evening with