After he had left them alone, Cicely dropped down on the floor at
Theodora's feet.
"Life isn't a straight line; it's horribly squirmy," she said, and her voice vas unusually grave.
Theodora drew the brown head against her knee.
"What is it, dear?" she asked.
"It's only Allyn. I don't know what the reason is that we can't get on. I've known lots of boys, and I never squabbled with any of them before. And I don't know why I care so much. Sometimes I really think I am good for Allyn and can help him out, and I am disappointed because he won't let me; but I more than half think it is only my vanity, after all."
"Was it a bad fight?"
"Awful." In spite of herself, Cicely laughed at the recollection. "He wound up by telling me that I was no lady, and he didn't care to have anything more to do with me. Since then I have hardly had a glimpse of him."
"I hadn't noticed that anything was wrong between you," Theodora said thoughtfully.
"No; we both of us are old enough not to quarrel in public. But I can't see any end to this. I care for Allyn a great deal, and I miss him; but if he does not want me for a friend, I can't force him to take me. I'm not a pill, to be swallowed whether or no."
"Perhaps I could help a little."