This from Janet, of all people! The girl had always been a mild-tempered and tractable child. That is, she had been entirely tractable except for half a dozen fits of rebellion so scattered in point of time and so completely suppressed in point of fact that they could conveniently be overlooked. But a face-to-face defiance of a maternal decree was a new and startling departure. It was an unheard of act, such as Mrs. Barr could ascribe only to the promptings of the Evil One, inducted into Janet’s acquaintance by her Kips Bay friends. Mrs. Barr came of an old New England family with Puritan traditions reaching back beyond Cotton Mather and the witch huntings. It was inconceivable to her that a daughter should be allowed to address a mother as Janet had just addressed her. It was inconceivable to her even in the spring of 1919, when the civil war between parents and children (or rather, the uncivil war between the young and the old), though raging furiously in the dynamic centers of New York, London, Paris and Berlin, had not produced so much as a ripple amongst the Barrs of Brooklyn or the Barrs anywhere in the wide world. "That will do, Janet," she said, rising to her full stature and assuming an expression that gave every line of her face its crudest edge. "Your language confirms my worst fears. I shall say no more." Janet wished that this were true, but she knew it was a mere euphemism. And, indeed, her mother continued with icy piety: "I shall pray that understanding may be given you to realize that happiness comes from the spirit, not from the flesh, from an exaltation of the heart, not from the pleasures of dances and parties. As for this Cornelia Covert, her reputation is such that you should shrink from linking your name with hers. A woman who has lived in an unholy alliance with a man is no friend for an innocent girl." "Innocent! Am I more innocent than she is, or simply more ignorant?" "Janet!" remonstrated Emily, "how can you speak in this way—when our sole object is to help you—" "Help me! Please don’t make me laugh, Emily," Janet cut in, bitterly. "A little more of this help of yours and mother will have no difficulty whatever in arguing me down to the ground." "I don’t propose to argue with you, my dear," said Mrs. Barr, motioning to Emily, who flounced angrily upstairs. "I simply say that I don’t approve of this masked ball. One thing more. I wish you to promise not to go." Janet was really terrified at her mother’s icy tone, but as her convictions were deeply involved, she replied with obstinate defiance: "I’m sorry, but I see no reason for giving such a promise." "Very well," said her mother, adding, with a veiled menace in the harmless words: "Remember, you don’t go with my approval." "Then I’ll go without," muttered Janet under her breath, as her mother majestically left the room. *III*