Besant, Mrs.
Bright, and her daughter. Some remarkable and,
to me, most amusing discussions took place among
the three; but often, during Mrs. Besant's most sus-
tained oratorical flights, Miss Anthony's interest
would wander, and she would drop a remark that
showed she had not heard a word. She had a great
admiration for Mrs. Besant's intellect; but she dis-
approved of her flowing and picturesque white robes,
of her bare feet, of her incessant cigarette-smoking;
above all, of her views. At last, one day.{sic} the climax
of the discussions came.
``Annie,'' demanded ``Aunt Susan,'' ``why don't
you make that aura of yours do its gallivanting in
this world, looking up the needs of the oppressed,
and investigating the causes of present wrongs?
Then you could reveal to us workers just what we
should do to put things right, and we could be
about it.''
Mrs. Besant sighed and said that life was short
and aeons were long, and that while every one would
be perfected some time, it was useless to deal with
individuals here.
``But, Annie!'' exclaimed Miss Anthony, patheti-
cally. ``We ARE here! Our business is here! It's
our duty to do what we can here.''
Mrs. Besant seemed not to hear her. She was in
a trance, gazing into the aeons.
``I'd rather have one year of your ability, backed
up with common sense, for the work of making this
world better,'' cried the exasperated ``Aunt Susan,''
``than a million aeons in the hereafter!''
Mrs.
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