"There are the children to be considered," I explained."A woman feels it even without knowing.It is her instinct."The Old Maid smiled on me her thanks.

"It is where I was leading," said the Minor Poet."Woman has been appointed by Nature the trustee of the children.It is her duty to think of them, to plan for them.If in marriage she does not take the future into consideration, she is untrue to her trust.""Before you go further," interrupted the Philosopher, "there is an important point to be considered.Are children better or worse for a pampered upbringing? Is not poverty often the best school?""It is what I always tell George," remarked the Woman of the World, "when he grumbles at the tradesmen's books.If Papa could only have seen his way to being a poor man, I feel I should have been a better wife.""Please don't suggest the possibility," I begged the Woman of the World; "the thought is too bewildering.""You were never imaginative," replied the Woman of the World.

"Not to that extent," I admitted.

"'The best mothers make the worst children,'" quoted the Girton Girl."I intend to bear that in mind.""Your mother was a very beautiful character--one of the most beautiful I ever knew," remarked the Old Maid.

"There is some truth in the saying," agreed the Minor Poet, "but only because it is the exception; and Nature invariably puts forth all her powers to counteract the result of deviation from her laws.

Were it the rule, then the bad mother would be the good mother and the good mother the bad mother.And--""Please don't go on," said the Woman of the World."I was up late last night.""I was merely going to show," explained the Minor Poet, "that all roads lead to the law that the good mother is the best mother.Her duty is to her children, to guard their infancy, to take thought for their equipment.""Do you seriously ask us to believe," demanded the Old Maid, "that the type of woman who does marry for money considers for a single moment any human being but herself?""Not consciously, perhaps," admitted the Minor Poet."Our instincts, that they may guide us easily, are purposely made selfish.The flower secretes honey for its own purposes, not with any sense of charity towards the bee.Man works, as he thinks, for beer and baccy; in reality, for the benefit of unborn generations.