“Oh, Mamma!” she gasped. “What’s the matter with me?” “The matter with you?” her mother cried. “You’re perfect, Anne! What do you mean?” Anne choked, bit her lip, and again controlled herself, except for the tears that kept forming steadily and sliding down from her eyes as she spoke. “I mean, why do I mind it so much? Why do I care so about what’s happening to me now? I never minded anything in my life before, that I remember. I was sorry when Grandpa died, but I didn’t feel like _this_. Have I been too happy? Is it a punishment?” Her mother seized her hands. “‘Punishment’? No! You poor lamb, you’re making much out of nothing. Nothing’s happened, Anne.” “Oh, but it has!” Anne cried, and drew her hands away. “You don’t _know_, Mamma! It’s been coming on ever since that girl first came to one of the summer dances, a month ago! Mamma, to-night, if it hadn’t been for little Hobart Simms, there were times when I’d have been stranded! Absolutely! It’s such a horribly helpless feeling, Mamma. I never knew what it was before—but I know now!” “But you _weren’t_ ‘stranded,’ dear, you see.” “I might have been if I hadn’t come away,” Anne said, and her tears were heavier. “Mamma, what can I do? It’s so unfair!” “You mean this girl is unfair?” “No; she only does what she thinks will give her a good time.” There was sturdiness in Anne’s character; she was able to be just even in this crisis of feeling. “You can’t blame her, and it wouldn’t do any good if you did. I mean it’s unfair of human nature, I guess. I honestly never knew that men were so stupid and so—so _soft_! I mean it’s unfair that a girl like this Sallie Ealing can turn their heads.” “I just caught a glimpse of her,” Mrs. Cromwell said. “What is she like?” “She’s awful. The only thing she hasn’t done is bob her wonderful hair, but she’s too clever about making the best of her looks to do that. She smokes and drinks and ‘talks sex’ and swears.” “Good heavens!” Mrs. Cromwell exclaimed. “And such a girl is put up for membership at our quiet old family country club.” Anne shook her head, and laughed tearfully. “She’ll never be blackballed for that, Mamma! Nobody thinks anything about those things any more; and besides, she only does them because she thinks they’re ‘what goes.’ _They_ aren’t what’s made the boys so wild over her!” “Then what has?” “Oh, it’s so crazy!” Anne cried. “I could imagine little boys of seven or even ten, being caught that way, at a children’s party, but to see grown _men_!” “Anne!” Mrs. Cromwell contrived to smile, though rather dismally. “How are these ‘grown men’ caught by Miss Sallie Ealing?”