ver the fence.

"--Daren looks dreadful," his mother was saying in low voice. "He
could hardly walk.... It breaks my heart. I'm glad to have him
along--but to see him waste away, day by day, like Mary Dean's boy--"
she broke off.

"Too bad! It's a pity," replied the neighbor. "Sad--now it comes home
to us. My son Ted came in last night and said he'd talked with a boy
who'd seen young Maynard and the strange soldier who was with him.
They must be worse off than Daren--Blair Maynard with only one leg
and--"

"Mother, where are you? I'm hungry," called Lane, interrupting that
conversation.

She came hurriedly in, at once fearful he might have heard, and
solicitous for his welfare.

"Daren, you look better in daylight--not so white," she said. "You sit
down now, and let me get your breakfast."

Lane managed to eat a little this morning, which fact delighted his
mother.

"I'm going to see Dr. Bronson," said Lane, presently. "Then I'll go to
Manton's, and round town a little. And if I don't tire out I'll call
on Helen. Of course Lorna has gone to work?"

"Oh yes, she leaves at half after eight."

"Mother, I was awake last night when she got home," went on Lane,
seriously. "It was one o'clock. She came in a car. I heard girls
tittering. And some boy came up on the porch with Lorna and kissed
her. Well, that might not mean much--but something about their talk,
the way it was done--makes me pretty sick. Did you know this sort of
thing was going on?"

"Yes. And I've talked with mothers who have girls Lorna's age. They've
all run wild the last year or so. Dances and rides! Last summer I was
worried half to death. But we mothers don't think the girls are really
_bad_. They're just crazy for fun, excitement, boys. Times and
pleasures have changed. The girls say the mothers don't understand.
Maybe we don't. I try to be patient. I trust Lorna. I can't see
through it all."

"Don't worry, mother," said Lane, patting her hand. "I'll see through
it for you. And if Lorna is--well, running too much--wild as you
said--I'll stop her."

His mother shook her head.

"One thing we mothers all agree on. These girls, of this generation,
say fourteen to sixteen, _can't_ be stopped."

"Then that is a serious matter. It must be a peculiarity of the day.
Maybe the war left this condition."

"The war changed all things, my son," replied his mother, sadly.

Lane walked thoughtfully down the street toward Doctor Bronson's
office. A