Joy had no time to expostulate, as the music struck up again and Packy whirled her off. “Betty’s a crazy kid,” said Packy paternally. “Seems to me a girl between sixteen and eighteen has got absolutely no sense at all. I like ’em when they’ve had enough experience to—well, to be interesting.” “How much experience does it take to make a girl interesting?” Joy asked. “Well, it takes a large order, for me. You’ve interested me so far, but the rest, like our little argument, remains to be proved!” “I’ve noticed,” said Joy, “that nowadays it’s the girl who always has to be interesting and ‘prove something’—the man’s duty seems mainly to sit by and be amused. If she can amuse him, he sticks around; if not, he drifts on to the next and resumes his attitude of expectant passivity. Am I right?” “I’ll hand it to you for the line of Noah Webster’s specials, anyway,” he drawled. “Didn’t you know little girls shouldn’t use such long words?” “Well, I don’t care, it’s true! I’ve noticed it everywhere I’ve ever been, except at Jerry’s. You—even you—have changed a little since we got down here.” The smile left his face. “That’s what I get for trying to treat you as if you’d never seen Jerry’s.” “Why—what on earth do you mean?” Before her amazed directness he turned away his face. “I can’t understand you at all,” he muttered. At the end of that dance, Betty came running up to her, a different man in tow. “You _must_ meet my brother Grant,” she panted; “and he wants to meet you, too!” Laughing, the two shook hands, and Joy found herself looking into eyes of the richest blue she had ever seen. Betty’s brother was very tall, very brown, and either very quiet or temporarily overcome. And at the very first survey, Joy decided that he was by far the nicest looking man she had met since she came to Boston. “She sings, and everything,” chanted Betty, “and Packy brought her, and he’s danced every dance with her so far, and it’s only fair he should dance a little with some of the rest of us, don’t you think? Come on, Packy!” Packy, looking volumes, moved off with Betty. Left alone, the two looked at each other and laughed. “That’s the way she always is,” explained Grant. “Mind if we sit this out? I’ve been sailing all day, and was dragged here under protest.”