in their presence. But even this did not move Zora. She sat down. There was in her, walking, standing, sitting, a simple directness which Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool sensed and met.
‚ÄúZora, I need someone to help me‚ÅÝ‚Äîto do my hair and serve my coffee, and dress and take care of me. The work will not be hard, and you can travel and see the world and live well. Would you like it?‚Äù
‚ÄúBut I do not know how to do all these things,‚Äù returned Zora, slowly. She was thinking rapidly‚ÅÝ‚ÄîWas this the Way? It sounded wonderful. The World, the great mysterious World, that stretched beyond the swamp and into which Bles and the Silver Fleece had gone‚ÅÝ‚Äîdid it lead to the Way? But if she went there what would she see and do, and would it be possible to become such a woman as Miss Smith pictured?
“What is the world like?” asked Zora.
Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool smiled. ‚ÄúOh, I meant great active cities and buildings, myriads of people and wonderful sights.‚Äù
‚ÄúYes‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut back of it all, what is it really? What does it look like?‚Äù
“Heavens, child! Don’t ask. Really, it isn’t worth while peering back of things. One is sure to be disappointed.”
“Then what’s the use of seeing the world?”
‚ÄúWhy, one must live; and why not be happy?‚Äù answered Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool, amused, baffled, spurred for the time being from her chronic ennui.
‚ÄúAre you happy?‚Äù retorted Zora, looking her over carefully, from silken stockings to garden hat. Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool laid aside her little mockery and met the situation bravely.