I'm just now trying to cultivate a sisterly feeling toward these good women for whom Jane Austen and Sir Roger de Coverley and the knitting of pale-blue tea cosies are all of life--who like mild twilight with the children singing hymns at the piano and the husband coming home to find his slippers set up against the baseburner.

That was beautiful, but even they owe something to the million or so women to whom Jane Addams is far more important than Jane Austen.

It might be more comfortable if the world never moved, but unfortunately it does seem to turn over occasionally." "I notice that you can say things like that, Sylvia, without waving your hands, or shouting like an old woman with a shawl on her head swinging a broom at the boys in her cherry tree.

We've got to learn to do that.

It was some time after I went into business, when Jackson Owen died, before I learned that you couldn't shoo men the way you shoo hens.