Were it the rule, then the bad mother would be the good mother and
the good mother the bad mother. And--"
"Please don't go on," said the Woman of the World. "I was up late
last night."
"I was merely going to show," explained the Minor Poet, "that all
roads lead to the law that the good mother is the best mother. Her
duty is to her children, to guard their infancy, to take thought for
their equipment."
"Do you seriously ask us to believe," demanded the Old Maid, "that
the type of woman who does marry for money considers for a single
moment any human being but herself?"
"Not consciously, perhaps," admitted the Minor Poet. "Our
instincts, that they may guide us easily, are purposely made
selfish. The flower secretes honey for its own purposes, not with
any sense of charity towards the bee. Man works, as he thinks, for
beer and baccy; in reality, for the benefit of unborn generations.
The woman, in acting selfishly, is assisting Nature's plans. In
olden days she chose her mate for his strength. She, possibly
enough, thought only of herself; he could best provide for her then
simple wants, best guard her from the disagreeable accidents of
nomadic life.
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