"But first we both told, even Mis' Sykes joining in, shocked, about the doorway carryin' ons and all the rest. 'Land, land!' Mis' Toplady says, 'I never had a little girl. I lost my little girl baby when she was eleven months. But I ain't never felt so like _shieldin'_ her from somethin' as I feel to-night.' "'It's awful, awful!' says Timothy Toplady, decided. 'We've just got to get some law goin', that's all.' "Silas agreed, scowling judicial. 'We been talkin' curfew,' he says. 'I donno but we'll hev to get the curfew on 'em.' "'Curfew!' says I. 'So you're thinking of curfewin' 'em off the streets. Will you tell me, Silas Sykes, where you're going to curfew 'em _to_?' "'Yes,' says Mis' Toplady, 'that's what I meant about vigilancin' 'em off somewheres. _Where to?_ What say, Silas?' "'That ain't our concern, woman!' shouts Silas, exasperated by us harping on the one string. 'Them young folks has all got one or more parents. Leave 'em use 'em.' "'Yes, indeed,' says Mis' Sykes, nodding once, with her eyes shut brief. 'An' young people had ought to be encouraged to do evening studyin'.' "Mis' Toplady jerked her head sideways. 'Evenin' fiddlestick!' she snaps, direct. 'If you've got a young bone left in your body, Mis' Sykes,' says she, 'you know you're talkin' nonsense.' "'Ain't you no idees about how well-bred young ladies should conduct themselves?' says Mis' Sykes, in her most society way. "'I donno so much about well-bred young ladies,' says Mis' Toplady, frank. 'I was thinkin' about just girls. Human girls. An' boys the same.' "'Me, too,' I says, fervent. "'What you goin' to _do_?' says Silas, spreading out his hands stiff and bowing his knees. 'What's your idee? You've got to have a workin' idee for this thing, same as the curfew is.' "'Oh, Silas,' I says then, 'that's what we've got--that's what we've got. Them poor young things wants a good time--same as you and all of us did, and same as we do yet. Why not give 'em a place to meet and be together, normal and nice, and some of us there to make it pleasant for 'em?' "'Heh!' says Silas. 'You talk like a dook. Where you goin' to _get_ a place for 'em? Hire the opery-house, air ye?' "'No, sir,' I says to him. 'Give 'em the place that's theirs. Give 'em the schoolhouse, open evenings, an' all lit up an' music an' things doin'.' "'My Lord heavens!' says Silas, that's an elder in the church and ain't no more control of his tongue than a hen. 'Air you crazy, Calliope Marsh? Plump, stark, starin' ravin'--why, woman alive, who's goin' to donate the light an' the coal? _You?_' "'I thought mebbe the building and the School Board, too, was _for_ the good o' the young folks,' I says to him, sharp. "'So it is,' says Silas, 'it's for their _good_. It ain't for their foolishness. Can't you see daylight, Calliope?' "'Is arithmetic good an' morals _not_, Silas Sykes?' I says.