Boston (Mass.) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction
"Of course we couldn't help it; besides, all the other girls were there
just with their escorts. You and grandma are so--old-fashioned. I'm sure
I don't see why I always have to have some other girl along--and Louise
Glenny of all persons! I couldn't help being just a little bit glad that
she couldn't go."
"Did you have a nice time, dear?"
The girl turned a radiant face upon her mother. "Oh, we had a _lovely_
time!" she murmured. "I--I'll tell you about it to-morrow. Is father
home?"
"Yes; he came in early to-night and went right to bed. I hope the
telephone bell won't ring again before morning."
The girl laughed softly. "You might take off the receiver," she
suggested. "Poor daddy!"
"Oh, no; I couldn't do that. Your father would never forgive me. But I
told him not to have it on his mind; I'll watch out for it and answer
it, and if it's Mrs. Salter again with one of her imaginary sinking
spells I'm going to tell her the doctor won't be in before six in the
morning. I do hope it isn't wrong to deceive that much; but your father
isn't made of iron, whatever some people may think."
The girl laughed again, a low murmur of joy. "Good-night, dear little
mother," she said caressingly. "You are always watching and waiting for
some one; aren't you? But you needn't have worried about _me_." She
stooped and kissed her mother, her eyes shining like stars; then hurried
away to hide the blush which swept her face and neck.
"Dear, dear!" sighed Mrs. North, as she crept back to her couch drawn
close to the muffled telephone, "I suppose I ought to have spoken to
her father before this; but he is always so busy; I hardly have time to
say two words to him. Besides, he thinks Bessie is only a child, and he
would have laughed at me."
The girl was taking off her hat and cloak in her own room. How long ago
it seemed since she had put them on. She smoothed out her white gloves
with caressing fingers. "I shall always keep them," she thought. She was
still conscious of his first kisses, and looked in her glass, as if half
expecting to see some visible token of them.
"I am so happy--so happy!" she murmured to the radiant reflection which
smiled back at her from out its shadowy depths. She leaned forward and
touched the cold smooth surface with her lips in a sudden passion of
gratitude for the fair, richly tinted skin, the large bright eyes with
their long curling lashes, the masses of brown waving hair, and the
pliant beauty of the strong young figure in the mirror.
"If I had been freckled and stoop-shouldered and awkward, like Louise
Glenny, he _couldn't_ have loved me," she was thinking.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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