“But there is a right way to have a good time, and a wrong way. I fancy
you often think you are having a good time when you are deceiving
yourself. One kind of a good time leads to satisfaction and pleasant
memories; another kind of a good time leads to misery and remorse. My
dear girl, be careful what kind of a good time you choose to have.”
“Oh, say, you ought to be a preacher! You an actor! You have made a
mistake!”
“An actor may be a preacher. He may preach morality in his acting. I
believe an actor has the greatest opportunities for doing good by his
methods of preaching.”
“Excuse me while I draw my breath! You’ve knocked me silly!”
“I fancy you have met the worst class of actors, Miss Blaney. You
thought them all alike.”
“I never saw one before that wasn’t ready enough to make a mash and have
a racket.”
Frank saw he was not making much impression on the girl. He had
discovered that she was rather bright, for all that she was so reckless
in her manner, and he was truly sorry for her.
“I am glad to say all actors are not mashers,” he said, slowly. “I hope
none of my company are. My dear girl, you are making the mistake of your
life by seeking the acquaintance of strange men in such a manner—by
having anything at all to do with strange men. Don’t do it any more. You
are good-looking, and I fancy you have a good education. Be careful what
you do. By your actions you can win the scorn or the respect of people,
just as you choose.”
“Oh, don’t talk to me that way!” she cried, with curling lips. “It’s too
late!”
“Why too late?”
“Oh, people think I’m fly, and I can’t change their minds now. I’ve got
the name, whether I deserve it or not.”
“Who is to blame? You must have given them reasons for thinking so.”
“Perhaps I have!” she exclaimed, defiantly, all the laughter gone from
her face in a moment. “But I did it because they began to talk about
me.”
“What did you do to make them talk about you?”
“Oh, I didn’t die! I was ready to have some harmless sport, and they
began to say I was gay. That made me mad. I said I would give them
something to talk about—and I did!”
“And there was where you made your greatest mistake, my dear girl.”
“Now, don’t talk to me that way. I’ve heard enough of it from other
people! I didn’t want to get acquainted with you to be preached at—not
by a long shot.”
“Miss Blaney, have you no thought for others? Is there no person whose
heart you are breaking by your recklessness? Your mother——”
“Don’t—don’t talk to me about her!”
“Why not?”
“Because—oh, just because!”
“I think I understand. Your mother worries over you. She has tried to
talk with you and tell you you were doing wrong. Am I not right?”
“She talked too much. That’s what drove me away from home.”
“Drove you away from home? Then you have left home?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A week ago.”
“Do your folks know where you are?”
“Yes.”
“And they let you go?”
“The old man says I needn’t ever come home again.”
“But your mother?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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