It was my mother's too.

Always fussing and fussing.

Their houses on their backs--like snails!" "Don't see why, with ten (or is it fifteen ?) servants." "Its twenty, I think.

But my dear Belle, if you imagine that when you have twenty servants you have neither work nor care--come and try it awhile, that's all!" "Not for a millionaire baby's ransom!" answered Isabel promptly.
"Give me my drawing tools and plans and I'm happy--but this business"-- she swept a white hand wearily about--"it's not my work, that's all." "But you _enjoy_ it, don't you--I mean having nice things ?" asked her friend.
"Of course I enjoy it, but so does Edgar.

Can't a woman enjoy her home, just as a man does, without running the shop?
I enjoy ocean travel, but I don't want to be either a captain or a common sailor!" Mrs.Weatherstone smiled, a little sadly.