.
You ought to be more careful of--of what people say."

He realized, almost as soon as this last sentence was blurted out, the
absolute tactlessness of it. The quiet gleam of humor he had so often
noticed in Helen's eyes was succeeded now by a look he had never before
seen there.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he added, hastily. "I beg your pardon, Helen. I didn't
mean to say that. Forgive me, will you?"

She did not answer immediately. Then she said, "I don't know whether I
shall or not. I think I shall have to think it over. And perhaps you had
better go now."

"But I'M sorry, Helen. It was a fool thing to say. I don't know why I
was such an idiot. Do forgive me; come!"

She slowly shook her head. "I can't--yet," she said. "And this you must
understand: If Ed Raymond, or anyone else, calls on me and I choose to
permit it, or if I choose to go out with him anywhere at any time, that
is my affair and not 'everyone else's'--which includes Issachar Price.
And my FRIENDS--my real friends--will not listen to mean, ridiculous
gossip. Good night."

So that was the end of that attempt at asserting the Divine Right by
the South Harniss king of hearts. Albert was more miserable than ever,
angrier than ever--not only at Raymond and Helen, but at himself--and
his newly-discovered jealousy burned with a brighter and greener flame.
The idea of throwing everything overboard, going to Canada and enlisting
in the Canadian Army--an idea which had had a strong and alluring appeal
ever since the war broke out--came back with redoubled force. But there
was the agreement with his grandfather. He had given his word; how could
he break it? Besides, to go away and leave his rival with a clear field
did not appeal to him, either.

On a Wednesday evening in the middle of September the final social event
of the South Harniss summer season was to take place. The Society for
the Relief of the French Wounded was to give a dance in the ballroom of
the hotel, the proceeds from the sale of tickets to be devoted to the
purpose defined by the name of this organization. Every last member
of the summer colony was to attend, of course, and all those of the
permanent residents who aspired to social distinction and cared to pay
the high price of admission.

Albert was going, naturally. That is, he had at first planned to go,
then--after the disastrous call at the parsonage--decided that he would
go under no circumstances, and at the last changed his mind once m