A welcome variant on the recently much overworked theme of the modern woman, standing at the parting of the ways, with home and husband and motherhood claiming her on the one hand, and a career beckoningly alluringly on the other. The author ingratiates herself from the start by her simple, unaffected style, and by the unmistakable truth of her portraiture of kindly and lovable characters of fine old New England stock.
was to see as so significant.
Sheila and Ted had gone to the woods with a nutting-party--a party too merry to do much but frolic, and eat as they gathered. By afternoon their baskets were not nearly full, and Ted surveyed his own with chagrin. He liked to accomplish what he set out to do, not because he was particularly industrious, but because a sense of power within him, partly sheer physical vigor and partly a naturally dominant will, demanded deeds for its satisfaction. If he could stay an hour longer, if he could go a little deeper into the woods, he could fill his basket, he reflected; whereas now--and he looked with contempt and a genuine distress at his meagre store of hazel nuts.
In his discontent he had already lagged behind his companions. The other children had set their faces homeward; Sheila walked just ahead of him, her arm around the waist of Charlotte Davis, a girl of her own age whom she had taken, with solemn vows, for her dearest friend. He might call the two girls, he though