e truth."

"You think an awful lot about truth, don't you, Judy?"

"Yes, I do, though I suppose if you knew all about me you'd think it
very inconsistent. Of course I don't mean just 'telling the truth,' as
children say, but the actual worship of truth in our relations with each
other and ourselves. But it's not a counsel of worldly wisdom, so don't
pay any attention to me."

"But I want to. I admire you ever so," said Georgie girlishly. "I know
that I'm an awful little beast in all sorts of ways, but I would love to
be like you if I could."

"Heaven forbid!" ejaculated Judy.

"Well, as much as would suit my style," laughed Georgie. "But tell me,
Judy, what sort of thing d'you call being badly untruthful--the sort
that matters? I'll tell you the sort of thing I do, and I can't help
myself. I hate myself, but I can't stop. You know just before I got
engaged to Val?"

"Yes?"

"Well, we were at that house on the river, and Val came down for the
day, and mother knew we were going to get engaged, I suppose; anyway,
she didn't make the usual fuss about being alone, and we went out in the
punt and took lunch to a backwater. I didn't even really think he cared
for me that kind of way; I was only wondering. I'd been washing my hair
when he arrived, and it wasn't quite dry. This was before I cut it off,
you know. And so--I thought I'd take it down and finish drying it...."

"Go on. I've done that myself," murmured Judith dryly.

"Well, I was sitting a little in front of him on the bank and a little
bit of my hair blew in his face. I manoeuvred so that it should. Beast
that I am! And later, when I was doing it up again, he handed me the
pins and said, 'Ripping stuff it is, Georgie!' It was the first day he
called me Georgie, and you can't think how often he did it. Why do men
always call hair 'stuff,' I wonder? Well--oh, where was I? Oh, I know.
And then he added, 'It was blowing across my face just now.' And I said,
'Oh, was it? I hope it didn't tickle. Why on earth didn't you tell me?'
And he said, 'I loved it' in a funny sort of fat voice. As though I
hadn't known, and hadn't planned for just that.... I think that's the
sort of thing that makes me hate myself, and yet I can't help it."

Judith lay silent. She was too used to playing every move in her power
with full knowledge of the effect to blame this child for tampering with
forces which she was blandly innocent of understanding.

"I don't think that 'mattered,'