This was the last dance. The clock was nearing the hour of midnight. There was a rush for the cloak room. Automobiles honked outside. The tang of fallen leaves filled the air as the door opened. Good-night, and good-night and good-night. It was all over.
“Had a good time, little girl?” asked Cousin Ned who was taking the party home in his car.
“I never had such a good time in all my life,” responded Joanne with a happy sigh.
“I’ve had a pretty good time myself,” returned her cousin, as they passed out into the broad street.
CHAPTER XVI
CHRISTMAS WREATHS
THE autumn days sped quickly by. There was plenty to do both in school and out, so Joanne had no time for moping. She had her ups and downs, of course, and once in a while flew into one of her old rages, but each time she was more ashamed, and was beginning to see that the game was not worth the candle. Her girl friends did much in helping her to see this; Winnie, particularly, gave her no sympathy when she came to her with an imagined grievance.
“What’s the use of getting all worked up over a little thing like that?” she would ask. “Suppose you can’t always have your own way. Isn’t it just as important that your grandmother should have hers? Don’t be so stuck on yourself, Joanne Selden.” After which blunt speech Joanne would feel, first furious, then penitent, and all would go along smoothly till the next outbreak which would be less violent.
She flounced out of the room one day after a hot argument with her grandmother and on her way up-stairs heard the latter say: “I wonder if that poor child will ever learn to control her temper.”
“She is learning,” Dr. Selden returned. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, my dear, and if you will look back you will see that she has made vast improvement. I think we have every reason to believe that she will develop into a fine woman. A girl with her spirit isn’t going to disappoint us. She is making a good fight. Many a time I have seen her bite her lips to keep back some hot words. The thing to do is to trust her, and not reprove too much; that only makes her defiant. It was the same with her father, you remember. We must help her, not antagonize her.”
Joanne went on to her room, murmuring: “Dear Grad; he understands. I won’t disappoint him. I will not.” She went to the clothes press and took down a hat box from which she drew her new winter hat. She tried it on, and looked at it from all sides. Then she took it off and stood with it poised upon her hand. Finally she put it back into the box, replaced the lid with a determined air and shoved the box back upon its shelf. Taking down her last year’s hat she settled it on her head with scarcely a glance in the mirror, and picking up her gloves she left the room.