Missy regretfully shook her head. “No, I've got a. sore throat.” She didn't deem it necessary to say anything about parental objections. Arthur looked regretful, too. “Say, that's too bad. I was thinking, maybe--” He shuffled from one foot to the other in a way that to Missy clearly finished his speech's hiatus: He'd been contemplating taking HER home to-night instead of that frivolous Genevieve Hicks! What a shame! To lose the chance to be a really good influence--for surely getting Arthur to church again, even though for the main purpose of seeing her home, was better than for him not to go to church at all. It is excusable to sort of inveigle a sinner into righteous paths. What a shame she couldn't grasp at this chance for service! But she oughtn't to let go of it altogether; oughtn't to just abandon him, as it were, to his fate. She puckered her brows meditatively. “I'm not going to church, but--” She paused, thinking hard. Arthur waited. An inspiration came to her. “Anyway, I have to go to the library to-night. I've got some history references to look up.” Arthur brightened. The library appealed to him as a rendezvous more than church, anyway. Oh, ye Public Libraries of all the Cherryvales of the land! Winter-time haunt of young love, rivalling band-concerts in the Public Square on summer evenings! What unscholastic reminiscences might we not hear, could book-lined shelves in the shadowy nooks, but speak! “About what time will you be through at the Library?” asked Arthur, still casual. “Oh, about eight-thirty,” said Missy, not pausing to reflect that it's an inconsistent sore throat that can venture to the Library but not to church. “Well, maybe I'll be dropping along that way about that time,” opined Arthur. “Maybe I'll see you there.” “That would be nice,” said Missy, tingling. She continued to tingle after he had jauntily departed with his basket and clattered away in his delivery wagon. She had a “date” with Arthur. The first real “date” she'd ever had! Then, resolutely she squashed her thrills; she must remember that this meeting was for a Christian cause. The motive was what made it all right for her to disobey--that is, to SEEM to disobey--her parents' commands. They didn't “understand.” She couldn't help feeling a little perturbed over her apparent disobedience and had to argue, hard with her conscience. Then, another difficulty presented itself to her mind. Mother had set her foot down on evening visits to the Library--mother seemed to think girls went there evenings chiefly to meet boys! Mother would never let her go--especially in such weather and with a sore throat. Missy pondered long and earnestly. The result was that, after supper, at which mother had appeared, pale and heavy-eyed, Missy said tentatively: “Can I run up to Kitty's a little while to See what the lessons are for to-morrow?” “I don't think you'd better, dear,” mother replied listlessly. “It wouldn't be wise, with that throat.”