“But my throat's better. And I've GOT to keep up my lessons, mother! And just a half a block can't hurt me if I bundle up.” Missy had formulated her plan well; Kitty Allen had been chosen as an alibi because of her proximity. “Very well, then,” agreed mother. As Missy sped toward the library, conflicting emotions swirled within her and joined forces with the sharp breathlessness brought on by her haste. She had never before been out alone at night, and the blackness of tree-shadows lying across the intense whiteness of the snow struck her in two places at once--imaginatively in the brain and fearsomely in the stomach. Nor is a guilty conscience a reassuring companion under such circumstances. Missy kept telling herself that, if she HAD lied a little bit, it was really her parents' fault; if they had only let her go to church, she wouldn't have been driven to sneaking out this way. But her trip, however fundamentally virtuous--and with whatever subtly interwoven elements of pleasure at its end--was certainly not an agreeable one. At the moment Missy resolved never, never to sneak off alone at night again. In the brightly lighted library her fears faded away; she warmed to anticipation again. And she found some very enjoyable stories in the new magazines--she seemed, strangely, to have forgotten about any “history references.” But, as the hands on the big clock above the librarian's desk moved toward half-past eight, apprehensions began to rise again. What if Arthur should fail to come? Could she ever live through that long, terrible trip home, all alone? Then, just as fear was beginning to turn to panic, Arthur sauntered in, nonchalantly took a chair at another table, picked up a magazine and professed to glance through it. And then, while Missy palpitated, he looked over at her, smiled, and made an interrogative movement with his eyebrows. More palpitant by the second, she replaced her magazines and got into her wraps. As she moved toward the door, whither Arthur was also sauntering, she felt that every eye in the Library must be observing. Hard to tell whether she was more proud or embarrassed at the public empressement of her “date.” Arthur, quite at ease, took her arm to help her down the slippery steps.