Minga consoled her. "We have to act like this nowadays, you know; that's why we don't need chaperones but, of course, there is a good deal of rough stuff if a boy doesn't know you're nice, and of course some girls aren't. Now you take any stag line at any dance; sometimes the fellows get silly and, well, they drink sometimes and, believe me, that needs some handling." Minga, head down, considered her slippers gravely. Miss Aurelia stared.... "The--er--stag line--why, Sard never----" "Oh--well," Minga leaned her head back against the wall, her little feet beating time to the music within, "Sard doesn't go in so much for that kind of thing, all the boys really want to dance with her and she knows it and doesn't hit it up and she won't allow cut-ins and that kind of thing--but most of us like the excitement, the being grabbed, you know, and so the boys like to show each other what cavemen they are, and, well, they do get silly and rough-house and you have to handle them like a mother--I've grown old," said Minga, in a burst of confidence, "I've grown old just keeping some of these lads where they belong." The girl rose and pecked at Miss Aurelia's sagging cheek. "Isn't your hair lovely," she observed, "and what pretty feet you've got. Why don't you get married?" "My--dear"--Miss Aurelia kept hold of the little brown hand and gasped, her eyes were wide with astonishment--"at--er--my age?" "Sure," said Minga with conviction--"you're feminine and all that, you know--a lot of men stand for that still--take some old blasé clubman and stuff him into a husband." Miss Aurelia, stunned, let go of the hand; she was as one paralyzed. "Nighty night," said Minga lightly. "Do you care if I steal an orange? I shan't say good-night to Judgie, I've committed him to bread and water for three days." The girl laughed. "What's that thing they're playing?" She hesitated, nodding her head toward the music-room. Miss Aurelia thought it must be Dvorak's "New World. The Largo...." Minga, curly head to one side, listened a moment, then she shivered. "A little too weird and woozy for me," she announced. "I hate Sard's taste in music; I want everything calcium-colored--Fizz," said Minga explanatorily, "and jazz and dizz!" She stood there, a little undetermined, listening and staring at the white moonlight on the water of the river stretched far out below the terrace. Then Minga looked solemnly at Miss Aurelia. "Do you believe that love is divine?" she asked casually. "Why," said Miss Aurelia, "why, my dear child, of course I do--it's--I always thought--I--we--sometimes--it is said to be." But Minga, with a queer little self-conscious laugh, broke away from the gentle detaining hand. She walked up-stairs, whistling; as she passed Dunstan's door, she gave it a decided thump.