“And what did he say?” She went to him and took his arm and led him to a couch. “Come, papa, let us get to the facts. You must tell me.” They sat down, and the major sighed, lit a fresh cigar, rolled it about in his fingers until it was ruined, and then flung it away. “Boys don’t talk freely to older men,” he said. “They really never do. You may doubt this----” “What did he _say,_ papa?” “Why, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really say anything.” And here the major came to a complete halt. His daughter, after studying his face for a minute, remarked, “In plain words, papa, you think he has something to hide, and he may not be able to give you the evidence you asked?” The other was silent. “You fear that is the situation, but you are trying not to believe it.” As he still said nothing, Sylvia whispered, “Poor Celeste!” Suddenly she put her hands upon his shoulders, and looked into his eye. “Papa, can’t you see what that means--that Celeste ought to have been told these things long ago?” “What good would that have done?” he asked, in bewilderment. “She could have known what kind of man she was choosing; and she might be spared the dreadful unhappiness that is before her now.” “Sylvia! Sylvia!” protested the other. “Surely such things cannot be discussed with innocent young girls!” “So long as we refuse to do it, we are simply entering into a conspiracy with the man of loose life, so that he may escape the worst penalty of his evil-doing. Take the boys in our own set--why is it they feel safe in running off to the big cities and ‘sowing their wild oats’--even sowing them in the obscure parts of their own town? Is it not because they know that their sisters and girl friends are ignorant and helpless; so that when they are ready to pick a wife, they will be at no disadvantage? Here is Celeste; she knows that Roger has been ‘wild,’ but no one has hinted to her what that means; she thinks of things that are picturesque--that he’s high-spirited, and brave, and free with his money.” “But, my daughter,” protested the major, “such knowledge would have a terrible effect upon young girls!” He rose and began to pace the floor again. “Daughter, you are letting yourself run wild! The sweetness, the virginal innocence of young and pure women--if you take that from them, there’d be nothing left to keep men from falling to the level of brutes!” “Papa,” said Sylvia, “all that sounds well, but it has no meaning. I have been robbed of my ‘innocence,’ and I know that it has not debased me. It has only fitted me to deal with the realities of life. And it will do the same for any girl who is taught by earnest and reverent people. Now, as it is, we have to tell Celeste, but we tell her too late.” “But we _won’t_ have to tell her!” cried the major. “Dear papa, please explain how we can avoid telling her.” “I will inform her that she must give the young man up. She is a good and dutiful daughter----”