"I really don’t see why I should always be tacked on to Betty or to Jean or you. I haven’t a minute to myself." "Oh, Mabs, you’ve had a lovely day!" The words broke out in an accusing manner. Elma had certainly intended to comfort Mabel, yet immediately began by expostulating with her. Mabel turned round, with her seventeenth birthday present, a fine silver-backed brush, in her hand. "_Have_ I had a lovely day, have I?" she asked. "I’ve had simply nothing of the kind. Jean went on so about not going that Cousin Harry seemed to think I had injured her. He made me feel like a criminal all afternoon. These navy men like lots of girls round them. One or two more don’t make the difference to them that it makes to us. At least it’s a different kind of difference. A nice one. I think it was abominable of him. My first chance--and to spoil it, all because of Jean! It wasn’t fair of her." Elma began to feel her reason rocking with the sudden justice of this new argument. "A minute ago, I thought it wasn’t fair of you," she said reflectively. "I can see it will be awfully hard to get us all peacefully grown up. Betty will have the best of it. I shall simply give in to her right along the line. I can see that. I really couldn’t stand the worry of it." "I suppose you wouldn’t have gone to the flower show without Jean?" asked Mabel in rather a scornful way. "Good gracious, no," said Elma simply. "I should have presented her with the one and only ticket, just for the sake of peace." "That’s a rotten, weak way to behave," said Mabel, with a touch of Cuthbert’s best manner. "I know. I don’t mean that you should have given her the ticket. You weren’t made to be bullied. I was. I feel it in my bones every time any one is horrid to me." "I’m getting tired of giving up to others," said Mabel, still on her determined tack. "You can’t think what it has been during these years. I mustn’t do this and that because of the children. It’s always been like that. And now when I’m longing to go to dances and balls, I’ve got to go right off after dinner and play Mozart with Betty. It’s all very well for papa, he hasn’t had the work I’ve had. If I play now, I want to play something better than a tum-tum accompaniment." "Mozart isn’t tum-tum," said Elma, "and papa has been listening to us all these years. It must have been very trying." "Well, all I can say is that, at his time of life, he ought to be saved from hearing Betty scrape on her fiddle every night as she does nowadays. Instead, you would think he hadn’t had one musical daughter, he’s so keen on the latest." "Miss Annie says it never does to be selfish," said Elma gravely. "I think that’s being selfish, the way you talk." Mabel stopped at the unclasping of her waist-belt. "Miss Annie! Well, I like that! Don’t you know there isn’t so selfish a person in the world as Miss Annie. I’ve heard people say it."