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Just as Erica was leaving Brian came in from his rounds, and they
met at the door. Had he known her trouble and perplexity as to
work, no power on earth could have induced him to keep silence any
longer; but he knew nothing. She looked a little pale, but that
was natural enough, and in her eyes he could see a peace which he
had never seen there before. Then deep unselfish happiness filled
his heart again, and Erica recognized in his greeting a great deal
more than an ordinary bystander would have seen. She went away
feeling bettered by that handclasp.
That is a downright good man! she thought to herself. Perhaps
by the time he's fiftyfive, he'll be almost equal to his father.
Socrates How singular is the thing called pleasure, and how
curiously related to pain, which might be thought to be the
opposite; for they never come to a man together, and yet he who
pursues either of them is generally compelled to take the other.
They are two, and yet they grow together out of one head or stem;
and I can not help thinking that, if Aesop had noticed them, he
would have made a fable about God trying to reconcile their strife,
and when he could not, he fastened their heads together; and this
is the reason why when one comes the other follows. Plato
That Erica should live any longer upon the money which her father
chiefly made by the dissemination of views with which she disagreed
was clearly impossible, at least impossible to one of her sincere
and thorough nature. But to find work was very difficult, indeed.
After an anxious waiting and searching, she was one day surprised
by receiving through Charles Osmond's friend, Mr. Crutchley, an
introduction to the editor of a wellknown and widely read paper.
Every one congratulated her, but she could not feel very hopeful,
it seemed too good to prove true it was, in fact, so exactly the
position which she would herself have chosen that it seemed
unlikely it should ever really be hers. Still of course she hoped,
and arrangements were made for an interview with Mr. Bircham,
editor and part proprietor of the Daily Review.
Accordingly, one hot summer morning Erica dressed herself
carefully, tried to look old and serious, and set off with Tom to
the city.
I'll see you safe to the door of the lion's den, said Tom as they
made their way along the crowded streets. I only wish I could be
under the table during the interview; I should like to see you
doing the dignified journalist.
I wouldn't have you for the world! said Erica, laughing. Then,
growing grave again, Oh, Tom! How I wish it were over! It's worse

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