one--an egg, and don't you overlook that. If
any one says I _want_ to do these things he's a fool. But I do love to
have good times, and little by little I've been drawn on and on....
I've had my troubles staving off these fellows. Most of them get half
drunk. Some of the girls do, too. I never went that far. I always kept
my head. I never went the limit. But you can bet your sweet life it
wasn't their fault I didn't fall for them.... I'll say I've had to
walk home from more than one auto ride. There's something in the gag,
'I know she's a good girl because I met her walking home from an auto
ride.' That's one thing I intend to cut out this summer--the auto
rides. Nothing doing for little Flossie!"

"Oh, can't we talk of something else!" complained Margaret, wearily,
with her hands pressing against her temples.

CHAPTER VI

Mrs. Maynard slowly went upstairs and along the hall to her daughter's
room. Margaret sat listlessly by a window. The girls had gone.

"You were going for a long walk," said Mrs. Maynard.

"I'm tired," replied Margaret. There was a shadow in her eyes.

The mother had never understood her daughter. And of late a subtle
change in Margaret had made her more of a puzzle.

"Margaret, I want to talk seriously with you," she began.

"Well?"

"Didn't I tell you I wanted you to break off your--your friendship
with Holt Dalrymple?"

"Yes," replied Margaret, with a flush. "I did not--want to."

"Well, the thing which concerns you now is--he can't be regarded as a
possibility for you."

"Possibility?" echoed Margaret.

"Just that, exactly. I'm not sure of your thoughts on the matter, but
it's time I knew them. Holt is a ne'er-do-well. He's gone to the bad,
like so many of these army boys. No nice girl will ever associate with
him again."

"Then I'm not nice, for I will," declared Margaret, spiritedly.

"You will persist in your friendship for him in the face of my
objection?"

"Certainly I will if I have any say about it. But I know Holt. I--I
guess he has taken to drink--and carrying on. So you needn't worry
much about our friendship."

Mrs. Maynard hesitated. She had become accustomed to Margaret's little
bursts of fury and she expected one here. But none came; Margaret
appeared unnaturally calm; she sat still with her face turned to the
window. Mrs. Maynard was a little afraid of this cold, quiet girl.

"Margaret, you can't help seeing now that your mother's judgment was
right.