my grandmother returned from the house of martha disappointed and annoyed. life had always flowed very smoothly for her, and i had rarely seen her in her present mental condition.
"i do not believe," she said, "that that institution will succeed. those women are too narrow-minded. if they were in a regular stone-walled convent, it would be another thing, but they are only a sisterhood. they are not shut up there; it's their business and part of their religion to go out, and why they should not be willing to come here and do good, as well as anywhere else, i cannot see, for the life of me."
"then they objected to the proposition?" i asked.
"yes," she replied, "they did, and without any reason whatever. i saw their superior, whom they call mother anastasia, and from her i learned that there were several women in the establishment who were thoroughly competent to act as secretaries; but when i proposed that one of them should come and write for you, she said that would not do at all. i reasoned the matter with her: that literature was as high a profession as medicine, and as much good could be done with the practice of one as the other; and if the sisters went out to nurse and to cure, they might just as well go out to write for those who cannot write for themselves. to that she answered, it was not the writing she objected to,—that was all well enough,—but it was decidedly outside of the vocation of the order for one of the sisters to spend her mornings with a young gentleman. if he were sick and suffering, and had no one else to attend to him, it would be different. upon this, i told her that you would be sick if you were obliged to do your own writing, and therefore i couldn't see the difference.
"but i must admit she was very good-natured and pleasant about it, and she told me that if you chose to come to their visitors' room and make yourself comfortable there, and dictate, one of the sisters would sit at the table behind the grating and would write for you. i replied that i did not believe you would like that, but that i would mention it to you."
i laughed. "so much for walkirk's brilliant idea," i said. "i fancy myself going every morning to that nunnery to do my work in their cheerless visitors' room!"
"cheerless? i should say so!" exclaimed my grandmother,—"bare floors, bare walls, and hard wooden chairs. it is not to be thought of."
that evening i informed walkirk of the ill success of my grandmother's mission, but to my surprise he did not appear to be discouraged.
"i don't think we need have any trouble at all in managing that affair," said he. "why shouldn't you have a grating put up in the doorway between your study and the secretary's room? then the sister could go in there, the other door could be locked, and she would be as much shut off from the world as if she were behind a grating in the house of martha. i believe, if this plan were proposed to the sisters, it would be agreed to."
i scouted the idea as utterly absurd; but when, the next morning, i mentioned it to my grandmother, she caught at it eagerly, and no sooner had she finished her breakfast than she ordered her carriage and drove to the house of martha.
she returned triumphant.
"we had a long discussion," she said, "but mother anastasia finally saw the matter in its proper light. she admitted that if a room could be arranged in this house, in which a sister could be actually secluded, there was no good reason why she should not work there as consistently with their rules as if she were in the house of martha. therefore, she agreed, if you concluded to carry out this plan, to send a sister every morning to write for you. so now, if you want a secretary from the house of martha, you can have one."
to this i replied that i most positively wanted one; and walkirk was immediately instructed to have a suitable grating made for the doorway between my study and the secretary's room.
nearly a week was required for the execution of this work, and during this time i took a rest from literary composition and visited some friends, leaving all the arrangements for my new secretary in the hands of my grandmother and walkirk. when i returned, the iron grating was in its place. it was a neat and artistic piece of work, but i did not like it. i object decidedly to anything which suggests restraint. the whole affair of the secretary was indeed very different from what i would have had it, but i had discovered that even in our advanced era of civilization one cannot always have everything he wants, albeit he be perfectly able and willing to pay for it.
