"But, I.W., she's--so young!" "Who's young? I'm nineteen, going on--" "You've been running with him all the three days he's been here, honey. What's the use getting yourself talked about?" "Well, any girl in town would be glad to get herself talked about if Leon Kessler was rushing her." "Effie, I won't let you--I won't--" Miss Goldstone unhinged her arm, jerking it free in anger. "Well, I like that!" "Effie, I--" "You ain't my boss!" "Effie!" "But, papa, she--" There was a booming in Mr. Goldstone's voice and a suddenly projected vibrancy. "You apologize to your mother--this minute! You talk to your mother the way you know she's to be talked to!" "I.W., she didn't--" "You hear me!" "I.W.! Don't holler at her; she--" "She ain't your boss? Well, she just is your boss! You take back them words and say you're sorry! You apologize to your mother!" Immediate sobs were rumbling up through Miss Goldstone. "Well, she--I--I didn't do anything. She's down on him. She--" "Oh, Effie, would I say anything if it wasn't for your own good?" "You--you were down on him from the start!" "Effie darling, you must be mad! Would I say anything if it wasn't for our girl's good to--" "I--oh, Mamma Hat, I'm sorry, darling! I never meant a word. I didn't! I didn't, darling!" They embraced there in the shrouding darkness, the tears flowing. "Oh, Effie--Effie!" "I didn't mean one word I said, darling! I just get nasty like that before I know it. I didn't mean it!" "My own Effie!" "My darling Mamma Hat!" In the shadow of a flowering shrub Mr. Goldstone stood by, mopping. Mrs. Goldstone took the small face between her hands, peering down into it. "Effie, Effie, don't let--" Just beyond the enclosing hedge, a motor-car drew up, honking, at the curb, two far-flung paths of light whitening the street and a disused iron negro-boy hitching-post. Miss Goldstone reared back. "That's him!" "Effie!" "Let me go, dearie; let me go!" "But, Effie--" "Say, Hattie, I don't want to butt in, but it don't hurt the child should go riding a little while out by Delmar Garden--a man that can handle a car like Leon Kessler. Anyways, it don't pay to hurt the firm's feelings." There was a constant honking now at the curb, and violent throbbing of engine. "But, I.W.--" "Popsie darling, I'll be back early. Mamma Hat, please!" "Your mother says yes, baby. Tell Kess he should come for Sunday dinner to-morrow." She was a white streak across the grass, her nervous feet flying. Almost instantly the honk of a horn came streaming back, faint, fainter. Left standing there, Goldstone was instantly solicitous of his wife, feeling along her arm up under the loose sleeve. "It don't pay, Hattie, to hurt Kessler's feelings, and, anyhow, what's the difference just so we know who she's running with? It's like this house was a honey-pot and the boys flies."