“I don't know how,” said Fan, despondently.
“You can learn; I did. I used to croak and fret dreadfully, and get so unhappy, I was n't fit for anything. I do it still more than I ought, but I try not to, and it gets easier, I find. Get a-top of your troubles, and then they are half cured, Miss Mills says.”
“Everything is so contrary and provoking,” said Fanny, petulantly.
“Now what in the world have you to fret about?” asked Polly, rather anxiously.
“Quantities of things,” began Fan, and then stopped, for somehow she felt ashamed to own that she was afflicted because she could n't have a new set of furs, go to Paris in the spring, and make Mr. Sydney love her. She hunted up something more presentable, and said in a despairing tone, “Well, mother is very poorly, Tom and Trix quarrel all the time, Maud gets more and more wilful every day, and papa is worried about his affairs.”
“A sad state of things, but nothing very desperate. Can't you lend a hand anywhere? That might do good all round.”
“No; I have n't the talent for managing people, but I see what ought to be done.”
“Well, don't wail about it; keep yourself happy, if you can; it will help other people to see you cheerful.”
“Just what Tom said, 'Keep jolly'; but, dear me, how can one, when everything is so stupid and tiresome?”
“If ever a girl needed work, it's you!” cried Polly. “You began to be a young lady so early, that you are tired of everything at twenty-two. I wish you'd go at something, then you'd find how much talent and energy you really had.”
“I know ever so many girls who are just like me, sick to death of fashionable life but don't know what to take in its place. I'd like to travel; but papa says he can't afford it, so I can only drag about and get on as I may.”
“I pity you rich girls so much, you have so many opportunities, and don't seem to know how to use them! I suppose I should do just the same in your place, but it seems now as if I could be very happy and useful with plenty of money.”
“You are that without it. There, I won't croak any more. Let us go and take a good walk, and don't you tell any one how I came and cried like a baby.”
“Never!” said Polly, putting on her bonnet.
“I ought to go and make calls,” said Fanny, “but I don't feel now as if I ever wanted to see any of the girls again. Dreadful state of mind, is n't it?”