I'm glad, in these sophisticated days, to see a girl who
can blush!"
The Young Doctor was leaning back in his chair, surveying the pair of
them with unconcealed amusement.
"How you women do stick together!" he said. "Talk about men being
clannish! I believe," he chuckled, "from the way Miss Thompson is
blushing, that she's got a very best beau! I believe that she was out
with him, this afternoon!"
Rose-Marie, who had always been taught that deceit is wicked, felt a
sudden, unexplainable urge to be wicked! She told herself that she hated
Dr. Blanchard--she told herself that he was the most unsympathetic of
men! His eyes, fixed mirthfully upon her, brought words--that she
scarcely meant to say--to her lips.
"Well," she answered slowly and distinctly, "what if I was?"
There was silence for a moment. And then--with something of an
effort--the Superintendent spoke.
"I told you," she said, "not to bother Rose-Marie, Doctor. If Rose-Marie
was out with a young man I'm sure that she had every right to be.
Rose-Marie"--was it possible that her eyes were fixed a shade inquiringly
upon the blushing girl--"would have nothing to do with any one who had
not been approved by her aunts. And she realizes that she is, in a way,
under my care--that I am more or less responsible for her safety and
welfare. Rose-Marie is trustworthy, absolutely trustworthy. And she is
old enough to take care of herself. You must not bother her, Billy
Blanchard!"
It was a long speech for the Superintendent, and it was a kindly one. It
was also a speech to invite confidences. But--strangely
enough--Rose-Marie could not help feeling that there was a question half
concealed in the kindliness of it. She could not help feeling that the
Superintendent was just a trifle worried over the prospect of an unknown
young man.
It was her time, then, to admit that there was nobody, really--that she
had gone out on an adventure by herself, that there had been no "beau."
But the consciousness of the Young Doctor's eyes, fixed upon her face,
prohibited all speech. She could not tell him about the Volskys--neither
could she admit that no young man was interested in her. Every girl wants
to seem popular in the eyes of some member of the opposite sex--even
though that member may be an unpleasant person--whom she dislikes. And
so, with a feeling of utter meanness in her soul--with a real weight of
deceit upon her heart--she smiled into the Superintendent's anxiou
|