Ch. 20 - At Forty

"NEARLY twenty years since I set out to seek my fortune. It has been
a long search, but I think I have found it at last. I only asked to
be a useful, happy woman, and my wish is granted: for, I believe I
am useful; I know I am happy."

Christie looked so as she sat alone in the flowery parlor one
September afternoon, thinking over her life with a grateful,
cheerful spirit. Forty to-day, and pausing at that half-way house
between youth and age, she looked back into the past without bitter
regret or unsubmissive grief, and forward into the future with
courageous patience; for three good angels attended her, and with
faith, hope, and charity to brighten life, no woman need lament lost
youth or fear approaching age. Christie did not, and though her eyes
filled with quiet tears as they were raised to the faded cap and
sheathed sword hanging on the wall, none fell; and in a moment
tender sorrow changed to still tenderer joy as her glance wandered
to rosy little Ruth playing hospital with her dollies in the porch.
Then they shone with genuine satisfaction as they went from the
letters and papers on her table to the garden, where several young
women were at work with a healthful color in the cheeks that had
been very pale and thin in the spring.

"I think David is satisfied with me; for I have given all my heart
and strength to his work, and it prospers well," she said to
herself, and then her face grew thoughtful, as she recalled a late
event which seemed to have opened a new field of labor for her if
she chose to enter it.

A few evenings before she had gone to one of the many meetings of
working-women, which had made some stir of late. Not a first visit,
for she was much interested in the subject and full of sympathy for
this class of workers.

There were speeches of course, and of the most unparliamentary sort,
for the meeting was composed almost entirely of women, each eager to
tell her special grievance or theory. Any one who chose got up and
spoke; and whether wisely or foolishly each proved how great was the
ferment now going on, and how difficult it was for the two classes
to meet and help one another in spite of the utmost need on one side
and the sincerest good-will on the other. The workers poured out
their wrongs and hardships passionately or plaintively, demanding or
imploring justice, sympathy, and help; displaying the ignorance,
incapacity, and prejudice, which make their need all the more
pitiful, their relief all the more imperative.

The ladies did their part with kindliness, patience, and often
unconscious condescension, showing in their turn how little they
knew of the real trials of the women whom they longed to serve, how
very narrow a