“Don't you suppose I heard you crying? What'd you cry for if there wasn't anything the matter?”
“Just nerves, papa. It wasn't anything else in the world.”
“Never mind,” he said. “Your mother told me.”
“She promised me not to!”
At that Adams laughed mournfully. “It wouldn't be very likely I'd hear you so upset and not ask about it, even if she didn't come and tell me on her own hook. You needn't try to fool me; I tell you I know what was the matter.”
“The only matter was I had a silly fit,” Alice protested. “It did me good, too.”
“How's that?”
“Because I've decided to do something about it, papa.”
“That isn't the way your mother looks at it,” Adams said, ruefully. “She thinks it's our place to do something about it. Well, I don't know—I don't know; everything seems so changed these days. You've always been a good daughter, Alice, and you ought to have as much as any of these girls you go with; she's convinced me she's right about THAT. The trouble is——” He faltered, apologetically, then went on, “I mean the question is—how to get it for you.”
“No!” she cried. “I had no business to make such a fuss just because a lot of idiots didn't break their necks to get dances with me and because I got mortified about Walter—Walter WAS pretty terrible——”