A household exclusively composed of women has its advantages and its disadvantages.  It is apt to become somewhat narrow in judgment, morbid in feeling, absorbed in petty interests, and bounding its vision of outside things to the small horizon which it sees from its own fireside.  But, on the other hand, by this fireside often abides a settled peace and purity, a long-suffering, generous forbearance, and an enduring affectionateness which the other sex can hardly comprehend or credit.  Men will not believe, what is nevertheless the truth, that we can “stand alone” better than they can; that we can do without them far easier, and with less deterioration of character, than they can do without us; that we are better able to provide for ourselves interests, duties, and pleasures; in short, strange as it may appear, that we have more real self-sustaining independence than they.

Of course, that the true life, the highest life, is that of man and woman united, no one will be insane enough to deny; I am speaking of the substitute for it, which poor humanity has so often to fall back upon and make the best of—­a better best very frequently than what appears best in the eyes of the world.  In truth, many a troubled, care ridden, wealthy family, torn with dissensions, or frozen up in splendid formalities, might have envied that quiet, humble, maiden household of the Misses Leaf, where their only trial was poverty, and their only grief the one which they knew the worst of, and had met patiently for many a year—­poor Selina’s “way.”

I doubt not it was good for Elizabeth Hand that her first place—­the home in which she received her first impressions—­was this feminine establishment, simple and regular, in which was neither waste nor disorder allowed.  Good, too, that while her mistresses’ narrow means restricted her in many things enjoyed by servants in richer families, their interests, equally narrow, caused to be concentrated upon herself a double measure of thought and care.  She became absolutely “one of the family,” sharing in all its concerns.  From its small and few carnal luxuries—­such as the cake, fruit, or pot of preserve, votive offerings from pupils’ parents—­up to the newspaper and the borrowed book, nothing was either literally or metaphorically “locked” up from Elizabeth.

This grand question of locking up had been discussed in full conclave the day after her month of preparation ended, the sisters taking opposite sides, as might have been expected.  Selina was for the immediate introduction of a locksmith and a key basket.

“While she was only on trial, it did not so much signify; besides, if it did, we had only buttons on the press doors; but now she is our regular servant we ought to institute a regular system of authority.  How can she respect a family that never locks up any thing?”

“How can we respect a servant from whom we lock up every thing!”

“Respect a servant!  What do you mean, Hilary?”