" "My mother has worked her fingers to the
bone for all of us, and I believe she'd let herself be chopped in pieces
to help us gladly any day."
"Yes," assented Mr. Stevens, "I know she would. There are--several
different kinds of mothers in the world. It's a thousand pities Sylvia
did not have a fair show at a job of that sort. She would have been one
of the successful kind, I fancy."
"It would seem so," said Austin.
CHAPTER VI
New York City
August 25
DEAR MOTHER AND FATHER:
I'm going to lay in a stock of picture post-cards to send you, for if
things move at the same rate in Europe that they do in New York, I
certainly shan't have time to write many letters. But I'll send a good
long one to-night, anyhow. I always thought I'd like to live in the city,
as you know, but a few days of this has already given me a sort of
breathless feeling that I ought always to be on the move, whether there's
anything special to do or not. The noise never stops for one minute,
night or day, and the streets are perfect miracles of light and dirt and
_hurry_.
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