Evening Star Newspaper, November 19, 1922, Page 72

4 Some Youthful Efforts in the Cause of Reform and the Astonishing Results. EXT year they would be de- butantes. No wonder they felt worldly wise and a lit- tle, & very little, blase. There wera four of them and they were| drinFing limeade on the porch of the country club and discussing popu- larity. There was Maribelle Tunis, in 2 white crepe de chine; Amy Pritch- | ard in a rose-colored linen; Elizabeth Green, muffied in a woolly yellow sport coat that she wore because it was new, not because the temperature of the day required it, and, finally, Nancy Dixon, little and dark-eyed, in | white golfing togs. They made & pretty group of youthful, varied types. “Of course, every one wants to be| popular.” Maribelle was saying. “It's. dreadful to have all the men think vouare a lemon and avoid you. Now, | 1 just say to any new man I meet ‘You must tell me all about yourself, and 1 look up as interestedly as I can. They all fall for it like lambs | and they think I'm the loveliest! I read it in a book. ever 8o long ago.” | The other girls bent respectful eyes | upon her. Maribelle was undoubtedly | popular. Amy Pritchard took up the, subject. “Cousin Etta says” she de- clared, “that any woman can be In- teresting to a man if she'll only ask his advice about something. Cousin Etta says it doesn't matter what you | ask it about—just think up some-; thing and tell him that you feel that| his opinfon will be of the utmost| value to you. And then act as if your | life depended on what he tells you.| And thank him sweetly afterward. Of course. you needn’t take his advice| —it's just that he Hkes to feel im-! portant and smart, you know." “Your Cousin Etta ought to know,” | said Clizabeth Green. “There never| was any girl in Greenfields who had S0 many suitors. And to marry that foreign count! I think she had an| ideal career—so romantic and pic- turesque! And, you see, what she| says and what DMaribelle says all amounts to the same thing—and that is that you've got to let the men do all the talking—at least at first. And| pretend to be interested even if| you're bored to death.” The indignant, protesting voice of Nan Dixon broke across these art- less confidences. “You girls make me tired,” she sald, “doing a lot of things vou don't want to, and acting silly and soft generally—and for what, for heaven's sake? Why, just so that you'll have plenty of partners at dances and heaps of fellows to call on vou and take you out—Iit's just 100 piMing. Personally, I'd rather have a little less popularity and a lit- tle more self-respect She got up abruptly and vanished in the club- house, her straight little figure fair- 1y quivering with earnestness. an's a little cat” burst out Maribelle, angrily. 'She's always 1aking people up so sharply, as if she knew it all. She never opens her mouth except to—to—" *To meo! supplied the more placid Elizabeth. “Well, we should worry,” she wound up, with a superior smile. * ok kO HE plazza of the Agawapls Club is a high one, with a solid rail, so that you cannot see any one who might sit below on the grass and rest his back agalnet the clubhouse, en- joying at once the shade, the delight- ful outlook before him and the edify- ing conversation above. Jimmie Tur- ner had not intended to be eaves- dropper. yet he stayed and listened, rejolcing In his shame. When Nan Dixon had made her spirited defense of his sex Jimmie felt quite thrilled. “That girl's got ideas,” he said to himself. When he saw Nan emerge from the clubhouse and Settle herself in olitude under a tree behind the tennis courts he presently found himself standing before her. “Good evening, Miss Dixon” sald Jimmie, respectfully. “Good - evening, Mr. Turner,” sald Nan severely, yet with a twinkle in her eve. She and Jimmie had known cach other from Infancy and she was used to his ways. Of late years they had seen little of each other, for he had become a young man while she was still in her early teens, and, therefore, to him, only a little girl. Now, however, she felt that they once more met on equal footing, as in thelr mutual mud-ple days. “Methinks,” went on Jimmle, gravely. “from your sad demeanor, that the world has not smiled on you of late. Has aught occurred to give your royal highness that which might ruthfully be called & grouch?” Her royal highness relaxed into a smile. “Silly!"” she said. “Sit down. can't you, instead of standing up In front of me like a May pole. Yes, I do feel grouchy. I was up on the club porch with Amy and Maribelle and Elizabeth—and they are so fool- ish—the way they talk—and the way they look at life.” Nan pronounced the word “life” very earnestly. As she did so Jimmie Turner suddenly discovered that she had beautiful eyes—big brown, thrilly sort of eyes, with lashes—gee, some lashes! “What did they say” he asked, ,anybody knows who wrote talk about books, and &rt, and things that really matter?” “That's so,” said Jimmie, now com- pletely under the spell of the brown eves. And what pretty little hands and feet she had! And what a sweet Nttle mouth! And how cleverly she talked! “Those old-time salons must have been lovely,” said Nan regretfully. “I wish there was something like that nowadays. People just make me sick, they're so unliterary. Why, hardly ‘Endym- ion,” and I'l bet I could ask every man, woman and child {a town who was the author of ‘Roll On, Thou Deep and Dark Blue Ocean, Roll,’ and nobody would answer right, unless, maybe, oune of the teachers at the high school. I think it's awful.” “Fierce,” sympathized Jimmie, hop- ing she wouldn't put the question to him. “If girls wouldn't sit around think- ing how they can be popular maybe they'd have some time for culture.” Nun's volce fairly vibrated scorn. “Sure thing,” assented Jimmie. “Say, what's the matter with” going for a little spin in the car to cool off and think it over?” “That would be simply lovely,” said Nan, with an upward glance that ri- valed Maribelle's in cftect. x & k% RESENTLY, when they sat side by side in Jimmie's runabout, she went back to her grievance. “1 get so tired of such foolishness ymongst the girls, Jimmie. You can’t think how dull it is for anybody who really wants to make something out of her life. And mother won't let me do anything I really want to. She said I might have a class in Sunday school, but she fairly shrieked when 1 wanted to go down In the factory district and teach the women cook- ing. She said I might catch smallpox or something.” “She was quite right,” declared Jimmle, thinking with alarm of Nan's | complexion being eternally ruined. “Oh,” she crled, “I did think you understood me. Don’t you understand {that T can't bear to be wrapped in | cotton wool all my life. I have to go to luncheons and teas and piffle around the country club when I'm dying to do something really flne— something that will justify my being in the world.” “It's pretty tough,” said Jimmie, not sure that he got the point, but anx- fous to please. “But say, I thought of something. Why don’t you try to reform the girls?" they were infants—and most of them are older than I am. remember that. No; I thought of that, but gave the idea up.” “Well, there must be somebody in the Country Club set that needs re- forming,” persisted Jimmie. “Some woman, I mean. I'd hate to see you wasting your time trying to reform that tough bunch of fellows.” (Oh. artful Jimmie!) “I might try Mrs. Malleson,” said Nan dreamily. *“I don’t think she's a bit discreet, the way she lets that young Lileut. Crary tag after her. Of course, her husband's awfully fat and horrid, but I don’t think that excuses her exactly.” “Do you like Lieut. Crary?’ asked Jimmie, as casually as he could man- age. “I don’t llke any Army men,” sald Nan primly. short—it Indicates no strength of character.” “Gosh, what a lot of things you know!” said Jimmie admiringly, and relleved. “But, say, how will you go about reforming Mrs. Malleson?” “Well,” meditated Nan, “I'll first cultivate her acquaintance and tell her a lot of things tactfully about the power for good and evil that lies in a woman’s hands, and things like that—I don't know exactly what” “You might put in some anecdote about young men who have wrecked their careers for women,” offered Jim- mie. “Yes, that would be fine; but I don't know an, “I'll tell you some. Why, a fellow T wi in college with got so crasy over a girl that he flunked in his exams, and his father was so mad he sent him off west on & ranch; and he's expected to study law.” “How awful! Was the woman older than he was?’ “She was a regular college widow— old enough to be his mother, that's ‘what.” “Then, for heaven's sake,” sald Nan, “let's hurry back to the Country Club and T11 begin with Mrs. Malleson straight off. There's no time to lose. After a somewhat hazardous turn- ing of the car they spun eagerly clubward. They were both thought- ful—Jimmie because he was thinking what a nice girl Nan was, while Nan viewed with appropriate gravity the task of recalling Mrs. Malleson from the error of her ways. “I wish,” she suggested at last, “that we'd thought of some one we knew better. Mrg. Malleson' newcomer, and she's so awfully good looking—I never saw such beautiful teeth and eyes as she has. And then “that makes you so peeved?” I am afraid that Nancy's loyalty to her sex was yet quite undeveloped. “Oh, they were talking about being | popular,” she getailed in a disgusted voice. “They seem to think that she seems so sure of herself. Can't you possibly think of any one else, Jimmie?” Jimmie thought hard. It was nice to be appealed to as & being of supe- rior wisdom. “I can't think of any “To reform those girls,” sald Nan | ! firmly, “I'd have to have started when “Their noses are too you've got to flatter and absolutely |one else right now.,” he conceded at coax men into being attentive. I|jast, “but I'll tell you what we'll do. think it's the Lmit. What do ¥ou}we'l just scout around and see how think? Do men, really nice men, get|the land lies and if Mrs. Malleson and taken In by such silliness? I wish her Johnny don't turn out to be prom- you'd tell me exactly what you think.” | {sing material we'll turn our attention Sbo turned those wonderful brown!to some one else. Oh, there are plenty thrilly eyes on him again. Jimmle felt a queer, wobbling sensation around his heart. “Well,” he explained grandly, “of course, some fellows fall for that sort of flub, but you can bet your shoe buckles that a fellow that's got & spoonful of the gray stuff in his bean gots hep to it right off the bat. The girls may think they can put it over, but they can’t. Not for a minute.” “That's what I told them,” shid Nan, “but, of course, they didn't be- lleve it. And, anyway, Maribelle is awtully popular, and Amy and Eliza- beth get lots of sttention, too.” “Yeah—but from whom?* demanded Jimmie, aroused to proving his case. “Matt Tenney and §id Garrison and that lot. Nice bunch for them' to be training around with. If I had a s ter I'd hate to see her with that push, I can tell you.” “T'm glad you think I'm right,” went on Nan, pursulng her own line of thought. “I don’t see why men and women™ (she sald the words grandly) _ “shouldn’t talk sensibly about really ¥ interesting things. Why can’t they of people who would be the better for a little reformation—done in & friend- ly way, of course.” Nan Drightened at this. “It's all just too splendid!” she said happily. “It zives me a feeling of really living at last. I was so bored.” * X ¥ % IMMIE gave her hand a delighted squeeze he helped her out of the car at the club steps—to_think that he had rescued her from bore- dom! They went blithely in search of their prey, and found them, just as might have been expected, doing a Jolly little tennis twosome. Lieut. Crary, tall and bronse-haired and as Mthe as & cat (and enormously good- looking, even if his nose was a frac- tion too short), had need to exert himself against his opponent. Mrs. Malleson was a real tennis player, and, though she hadn't strength enough to smash the ball very hard, she had a deadly faculty of placing her return just in the wrong spot for the other fellow. And she could drop & ball weakly ju& over the net with | i | | | hardly an inch to spare—an uncanny, provoking trick. Nan and Jimmie watched the game respectfully. Mrs. Malleson looked 80 bewitchingly pretty in her white blouse and striped skirt, with a scar- let band tied around her head, that Nan's heart rather wavered. Who was she, she asked mentally, to set herself up as guide, mentor and friend to such a radlant being? And just then, the game being over, the two players joined the onlookers. “Let's have a double,” said Lieut. Crary. “Where are your racquets?” “Oh, no; no doubles now; I'm too tired,” said Mrs. Malleson, showing her white, even teeth in a smile at Nan. “We'll take Jimmie and Nan to tea. Get one of those umbrella tables for us, Louis.” She waved her hand toward the sward beside the club- house, where, under striped umbrellas, round tables, tea laden, might be seen. Toward one of th tables the four accordingly advanced. “What have you been doing today, chicken?” asked Mrs. Malleson care- lessly of Nan as they led the way. “She looks on me as a mere child,” thought Nan bitterly. But she an- swered promptly: “Oh, Jimmie and I were out for a little while in his car and he was telling me the saddest story—about & young man he knew in college who fell in love with a woman a lot older than he, and his father sent him out to a ranch in- stead of letting him study law.” Probably much better for him,” declared Mrs. Malleson. “Get that brelly over there, Louis; the green stripes will be becoming to my skirt. And listen, my dear, when you order, remember I'm on a diet.” Jimmie and Nan exchanged mean- ingful glances. She called him “my dear”—and permitted him to order her tea with the sole injunction that she was on a diet! Such conduct argued great intimacy. X “I'm not likely to forget that diet,” sald Lieut. Crary, “considering that I hear of it at every meal. Waiter, some toasted gluten bread for one, a pot of orange pekoe for four, lemon for one, cream for three, hot buns and marmalade for three—oh, and lit- tle cakes for three.” "Oh, dear,” groaned Mrs. Malleson, “how delicious those things do sound! But they mean pounds and pounds of flesh for me! A . *I don’t think you need to diet, Mrs. Malleson,” sald Nan politely. “Every woman past her teens ought to diet,” declared Mrs. Malleson, “un- less she wants that set, middle-aged look by the time she is forty. Oh, did you see Grace George last winter? Now, there's & wonderful woman for you. 8hé’s & perfect sylph. And I can THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, NAN GRASPED JIMMIE'S AR “Honestly, Mille,” sald Lieut. Crary. “I think you overdo it. I like you better five pounds heavier.” He ran his eye over her figure appraisingly. “Yes, at least five pounds more.” Again Nan and Jimmie exchanged glances. He called her by her first name and presumed to judge the proper amount of avoirdupois she should have. Well, it didn’t sound proper. It seemed to Nan a great pity that Mrs. Malleson had permitted the history of the misguided young man who loved the college widow to go by without assimilating it. She decided to try it again. “You know, Mrs. Malleson,” she be- gan, “that young man—that friend of Jimmie's I was telling you about—his friends reasoned with him, but it was absolutely no use.” Mrs. Malleson raised her eyes from her bit of gluten toast. “You seem deeply impressed with the, sad fate of that young man,” she said gayly. “Now, I think he was better off on a ranch. Anyway, every boy has to fall in love with an older woman some time. It's a part of his natural edu- cation. Look at Louis”—she pointed the toast at him—"he falls in love with an elderly charmer every sea- son—don’t you, Louis?’ Nan almost choked, but she observ- | ed that Lieut. Crary had the decency to blush. It showed that he, at least, had still a sense of shame. “Leave me alone,” he exclaimed, “You're HE BITING FA “THERE THEY D GO,” SHE SAID. 1t is terrible to be only seventeen and ivery earnest beside thirty-and-some and unlimited assurance. She sighed. “T think T must go home,” she sald, rising. “Thank you awfully for the tea. It was deliclous, especfally the jam.” ‘I made an utter failure of it, didn't {17 she asked Jimmie as they re- treated. “Indeed you didn't,” protested Jim- mie. “You said a lot of very good things to her, and, though they didn't seem to make much impression, she'll remember ‘em and think ‘em over. They sunk in—I could see that.” “Oh, Jimmie,” exclaimed Nan, “that is a dear, comforting thing to say. Do you really think so “Surest thing, you know. Say, let me take you back to town.” “That will be lovely,” sald Nan. “T'd meant to go in with Maribelle, but I'll tell her not to wait for me.” It was rather jolly to have Jimmie { Turner urging his car into her serv- ice. Nan reflected on this and saw her own satisfaction translated into dissatisfaction in the eyes of Mari- belle and Elizabeth and Amy when she told them how she was going back to town. She could not help thinking, also, that it was a fitting reward of virtue that she, who had scorned popularity cheaply bought, should be the one to have Jimmie's attention all the afternoon, for he was | young man,” but she couldn’t do it | . _C., NOVEMBER 19, 1922—PART ! i trying to pass it off lightly. always picking on poor little me.” “It's quite true protested Mrs. Malleson, “and for two or three weeks I have the dullest time; but he always gets tired of his charmer, and then 1 get my escort back again. Honestly, super-eligible, young as he was. Arrived at home, Nan dutifully isought her mother and gave an ac- count of the day’'s doings—an ac- count which was strictly for maternal consumption. In it Jimmie and his car played an inconspicuous part, but Louls, I don’t know what I shall ever do if you get married. And what will poor Tom do? He'll have to take me about then.” * ok x * W, that was really piling it on, Nan thought—poor Tom belng Mr. Malleson. It seemed high time for one of those tactful hints she had meant to give. She gave it, blushing with embarrassment. “But, Mrc. Malleson,” she began, “maybe Mr. Malleson would really en- joy going about more, once you get him used to it.” “Bless you, child,” sald Mrs. Mal- leson blithely, “you sound like an (essay on the whole duty of a wife. Don't let Tom hear you suggest that. He'd be worrled sick for fear 1 would pull him out of his library and resur- rect his dr uit. He simply loathes going about—Iloathes it as much I love it . It was here that Nan fafled her principles. She knew that she ought to say reprovingly, “Then you ought the conversation with the girls a large one. Then Nan approached the sub- Ject of Mrs. Malleson and Lieut. Crary. “Don’t you think it looks odd for them to be around together all the time, mother?” she asked. Mrs. Dixon was & woman of the world. ‘“My dear,” she sald, wonder- ing meanwhile how a child of hers could be so ingenuous, “I really know “WE MUST FOLLOW THEM.” along. Nancy, and dress for dinner— there's a good girl” Back in her head, however, she made a note to look into the Malleson affair with thoroughness and dispatch. Nan went upstairs more depressed than ever. “Mother treats me as if I were a mere child,” she told her re- flection in the mirror. “Oh, why— why can't parents realize that their children can be Intellectual entities? It would be such a help. Anyway,” throwing her sport shoes down hard on the closet floor and snatching at her slippers, “anyway, I shan't desert Mrs. Malleson. She needs a sister woman’s friendly advice. And Jim- mie will help me.” * k x % OMEHOW the thought that Jimmie would help was very pleasant. It was 80 nice that he had a car, too. It gave them chances for such nice tete-a-tetes for planning—and it made Maribelle so wild—and—and- She fell to dreaming, with her hair half up, half down. Jimmlie, too, was for the first time becoming aware of the advantages of a bit of introspection. He had found the afternoon good to a degree. Here was a girl who really thought sensible things, and didn't look sensi- ble when she said them, but pretty and fluffy and appealing. It is a com- bination that is hard to beat; more men than Jimmie have found it frre- sistible. Jimmie, too, gave a thought of gratitude to his car and its possi- bilities, and he decided that he would order some mnew silk shirts and another pair of white flannel, trous- ers, for in case anything happened to his four other pairs simultaneous- ly—heaven knows what catastrophe he imagined—he'd be in a fine fix, wouldn't he? A pretty nice girl, Nan Dixon; and it was just as generous and kind-hearted as it could be for her to want to keep Mrs. Malleson from being so conspicuous! Most girls would have sald something catty and let it go at that. Yes, sir; Nan Dixon was & very exceptional girl. He hoped anxiously that she didn't very little about Mrs. Malleson. She's | think he was a dub, and he made up lived here such a short while. But, | his mind to read some poetry right then, the Temples introduced her, 50 !away so as to be in her class when I'm sure she is all right. People do | they talked literary stuff. It was a lot of unconventional things nowa- | queer how he felt about Nan—abso- days, but there's no real harm in it I've always thought her a very pleas- ant little woman, and I suppose she gets tired of sitting at home with her husband—and they say he stays in his library fourteen hours on a stretch—and so——" She paused. Nan looked at her scornfully. “I think it's horrid of her,” sald “and something ought to 'be . “You don’t have to do anything remember when she was plump and|to stay at home with him'instead of jabout it, remember that,” said Mrs. curvy, to say the least.” gadding about with this short-nosed Dixon with sudden crispness. “Run lutely Alfferent from the way he had ever felt about any other girl. He hoped fervently that the weather would be fair tomorrow. He'd call her up the first thing if it was and make a date for the afternoon. The weather man was amiaole—the next day was fair—and Jimmie, as per schedule, anxiously requisitioned the telephone to ask Nan what about some golf out at the club that afternoon, receiving thereto a satisfactory reply. He had, I fear, almost forgotten CTS Melleson from her mistakes, but he) was reminded of it when the erring pair hailed them from the roadside a mile from the clubhouse. “Why, it's Jimmie and Nan again!” said Mrs. Malleson. “Won't you take me on to the club with you? Tl asit on your feet, or anywhere. One of our back tires has blown out.” “Of course,” sald Nan. “This seat holds three with a little squeezing. “Can 1 help you?’ offered Jimmie to the lleutenant, who, coatless and hatle: ing tire. “Oh, leave him alone,” sald Mrs. Malleson. “He'll get It on after a while. I've told him and told him tires replaced. He thinks rubber ought to last like steel.” With which heartless speech she climbed in between Jimmie and Nan. At the clubhouse, however, she re- fused their polite invitation to join their round. “No,” she sald, “I'll wait for Louis. We were coming out for tennis, and he’s really the only person I can play anything with—he understands me.” “Upon my word,” said Nan as soon as she and Jimmie were out of her sight. “She talks about him as if they were married—exactly. First, she won't wait for him to put on the tire, and then she will wait for him because he understands her game.” “How do you know how people talk when they are married?’ asked Jim- mie anxiously. “I listen to mother and father, don't 17" said Nan. “And Uncle Harry and Aunt Ellen, and to those funny newly- weds, Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, who live next door; and heaps of other people. They all talk just that way.” “1 suppose they do,” said Jimmie. “Here, let me tee up for you." They proceeded on their round in companionable converse. It was a heavenly day for golt; blue and still, but not too warm. There were not many people on the links, either. The | rosy color in Nam's cheeks deepened with the exercise, and her dark hair curled-crisply under the brim of her {little round hat. It was astonishing, | reflected Jimmie, how pretty she was {and how little she seemed to know it He began to wonder if, by sticking closer to the business and making a hit with his father, he mightn't get his salary raised to—well, a livable amount at New Years. And then it struck him that he had read some- | where that two people could live more i cheaply than one—a warming and pleasing thought. Of course. he but he wasn't going to wait long. It wasn't safe. Some insufferably super- wealthy and desirable young man would come along and inevitably grab off such an exceptional girl as X !Jimmie felt a mad jealousy of rage | against that imaginary young man arising within him. It quite put him off the game. * 'k %X * HEN it occurred to him that he had been fool enough not to ask her 1If she would go with him to the | Friday night dance at the club! And |this was Wednesday! Good Lord— |how careless! He foozled an easy approach in his excitement and hur- ried to her (she was just on the | green) to make up for his negiigence. | Thank heaven, he was not too late. | “If mother'll let me," said Nan, un- {aware of his tumult. “I'd love to g0 with you. But, you know, mother | thinks that until I'm really out I ought not to go to many dances and |things. She says a girl doesn't get I half so much attention paid her when |she's a debutante if she goes about was sweating over the offend- | that he ought to have those back | wouldn't say anything to her just yet. | - | chance to be s: BY SOPHIE KERR, “Where did you hear ‘em?” asked the dazed Jimmie, trying to bring order out of this chaos of statement. “I was at the club this afternoon and when 1 went down to the lockel room to put my elubs away—yot know how dark it is—and I was around the corner part, you know { where the brickwork is—and the came in. And she sald: ‘We've got B0 tonight. I can’t stand it any {longer. Every deluy makes it more trying’ And he said: ‘T'll do what. ever you wish’ And then thes planned. They're going to pretend tc €0 to the dance and show up ou' there for a little while, and ther they're going to motor over to Mid dletown, and, of course, that meamn: { they’ll take the train there, for thats i where the main linc comes through They must mean to catch that 1) o'clock express. And she was almos {crying, and she said: ‘What if som¢ !one should find it out” And he wa: trying to comfort her and said thai no one could suspect, not even Tom— that's her husband, of course. Ant she sald it made her perfectly miser- able. And he said: ‘But tais ix the only thing to do—you must know ithat’ And she said: ‘Yes, I suppost it {s’ And then some more people came in and they stopped their talk ing and went out, and I came right | home and tried to get a chance tc telephone to you, but twice your line was busy, and then father and mother | simply camped down in the hall right | beside the telephone.” | Jimmie was gradually sorting anc |arranging his thoughts. “But—bui look here,” he sald, “what can we dc about it?” “We can follow them up and stop them,” declared Nan dramatically. * will appeal to her as woman [woman. I will beg her to see the | error of her way, and I will threater |to telephone her husband and have |them arrested in Middletown unless they come back. I'm sure she can'f be all bad. And if Lieut. Crary makes |any trouble—why, you can take car¢ |of him» * ® ¥ ¥ {PTVHAT was a pleasant thought that { L Nancy considered him capable of “taking care of” a man two inches taller and at least twenty pounds | heavier than himself. Jimmie swell- | ed with pride. “You bet I'll do that,” | he declared cocklly. “But say, why {don’t you run around to the Mal- lesons’ house and tell her you're or | before she starts? Then we could g¢ i 10 the dance just the same. Nan shook her head. | sidered that” she declared, { wouldn't have the same effect. {she’s actually started, she'll begin to feel that she’s been rash and maybe going too far, and she’ll a ved from her folly |if we dom't let her start quite likely try again. That's | psychology of a situation like this." | There was, of courxe, no gainsay- | ing her when sie shook her head and |looked so attractive and mentionec | peychology, of which last Jimmi | knew nohing. He abandoned his plar jof stopping the elopment before it | started. 2 “All right.” he said. you want me to do? “Come for me a little earlier thar weleome “Now, what do | we had planned.” said Nan, “and we'll &0 out to the club and hang around them come in and then ! keep an «eve on them, and when iy leave we'll leave, too, and follow them, and when they've gone a good i bit of the way we'll overtake them !and then—leave it 10 me. And now do hurry along, for I've got to dress.” Some forty minutes later they me! until we s | too much before. I think it's all very again, but now Nan was fluffy in pink igll]y, truly. Idon't carea thing about |ruffles that shimmered deliciously un- | soclety and all that nonsense, but | der her gray Red Riding Hood cape | mother's firm.” | A pink rose was tucked into her curls Her big brown eyes looked up so|Jimmie surveyed her wistfully. “You sweetly at Jimmle that it was with |look good enough to eat,” he said. 1 ! difficulty he restrained himself from | wish we didn't have to go wild-goose telling her how adorable and wonder- | chasing like this. 1 could just dance ful she was. Of course, the presence With you all night.” of the caddies was a drawback toany | “Oh, but It's such an adventure: uch declaration, and then—he didn't said Nan, now sitting demurely at his know what she'd say. He drew a (slde in the car. “And then—jus {think of what a noble thing to do “We | Besides—I—1 might—go to another |long breath. “I'll ask your mother,” he said. | could come home early if she'd rather. dance with you—if you asked me— { 'm—I'm just crazy to have you go.” |and mother was willing.” | He meant to say “crazy about you,”| “Do vyou mean it?" cried Jimmie but the words stuck. He must pro- (quite enraptured by this admissior ceed cautiously. It wasn't likely that | (maybe she did like him a little bit). she could possibly be interested in a | “Do You really mean it? Say—look boob like him so soon. Maybe—after | here—promise me you'll let me take years—when she had come to realize | YOU to every dance this summer thal his devotion! His pulses bounded at ! Your mother says you may go to—will the thought. He made a long and|¥ou?” accurate putt and grinned at the| And she promised. Whereupon the whole world. |prosaic macadam became a golden Later, when he put the question of | WaY, and the early moonlight, silver escorting her daughter to the Friday |2nd soft in the evening shadows, be- night dance, Mrs. Dixon was pleased |Came enchanting magic created just to assent, but with the condition that | for them. Glorious shyness fell on they must be home by midnight. It |them and they did not speak again was a comforting thought to Jimmia | until the colored lanterns of the clut that Nan should be so shielded and guarded by her mother, even though it curtailed the pleasure of the even- ing for him. He knew that Mrs. Dixon would be careful with all the other fellows who would be running after Nan. Not so bad—what? Thursday and Friday passed with excruciating slowness. To be sure, the new white flannel trousers were finished and delivered, and Jimmie had invested largely in new haber- dashery, and had had the car thor- oughly overhauled. He had sald that he would call for Nan about 8:30 on Friday evening, but at 7:30, when he was leisurely eating his dessert, he | was called to the telephone. “I must see you at once,” came Nan's volce in a cautious whisper. “I've been trying to get a chance at the phone when no one w around for. hours, but mother and father have been sitting in the hall, of all places, until I thought I'd go mad. Can you come right around?” “Sure,” sald Jimmie. ‘“What's up?”’ “I can't tell you now. Listen, come in the side gate, very quietly, and go down in the garden to the pergola: I'll be waiting there. Don't come up to the house. Hurry!" Mystified, Jimmle clicked up the re- ceiver and hurried as directed. He ran down the quieter streets and walked as fast as he could through the more crowded ones. He sneaked In at the side gate of the Dixon yard and trod softly through the twilight to the pergola, arriving breathless and anxious. Nan was walting for him. She flung excited hands upon his arm. “What do you think—they're going to elope— tonight!” she sald. “Who?” sald Jimmie blankly. “Oh, Jimmie! Have you forgotten? ‘Why, Mrs. Malleson and Lieut. Crary, of course.” “How do you know?" “I heard them planning it. Listen, thelr - avowed mission to save Mrs.|we've got tqrprevent it.” were plain before them. “I'll put the car way down at the end where I can get It quick,” said Jim- mle, coming back to the matter in hand. “And I'll stay on the veranda and walit for you, but I'll ask if they've | come first,” said Nan. It was done as they had planned “They're not here yet,” said Nan as Jimmie reappeared after parking the car. “Say, I've got a great idea,” he re- plied. “T'll tell the doorman to let me know when they do come, and we'll go ahead and dance till then. And say—If you don't mind, you know—you'll have to dance all th- time with me, for I couldn’t cut in and tuke you away from another partner if we had to leave in a hurry ~ “That's 0, said Nan. "Oh, Jim- mie, wasn't it a speclal providence that I was down in the locker room when they made thelr plan? It's just as If the finger of destiny pointed ut me to save her.” “Yes,” sald Jimmie, “of course. Say, don’t let's miss this canter.” They slid out on the floor in perfect accord to step and spirit. They saw Maribelle, Amy, Elizabeth. Jimmie nodded to various masculine friends The floor was not crowded, for It was only the second number, and people were constantly arriving. The two conspirators in good works kept their eyes fixed on the door. But the canter ended and Mrs. Mal- leson and her eloping friend had not appearéd. Jimmie and Nan went out on the veranda and.watched the cars coming in. The orchestra began a fox trot, and now, feverish with ex- citement and suspense, they went in- side to dance it. They had circled the floor twice when the doorman gave Jimmle a nod. They had come! Jimmie and Nan flew to the veranda and concealed themselves in the dark- est shadows. Mrs. Malleson was just (Continued on Seventh Page.)