“But what about your work on the Beacon?” she asked.
“Oh, I've thought about that,” Missy returned glibly. “And I really think a trip of this kind would do me more good than just hanging round a poky newspaper office. Travel, and a different sphere—Keokuk's a big town, and there seems to be a lot going on there. It's really a good chance to enlarge my field of vision—to broaden my horizon—don't you see, mother?”
Mother bent her head lower over her work.
“Are you sure the thought of parties and a lot going on and—” mother paused a second—“and Archie has nothing to do with it, dear?”
Missy didn't mind the teasing hint about Archie when mother said “dear” in that tone. It meant that mother was weakening.
Nor did thoughts of the abandoned Cosmos trouble her very much during the blissfully tumultuous days of refurbishing her wardrobe and packing her trunk. Nor when she wrote a last society item for Ed Martin to put in the Beacon:
“Miss Melissa Merriam of Locust Avenue has gone for a two weeks' visit at the home of Miss Louise Briggs in Keokuk, Iowa.”'
The little item held much in its few words. It was a swan-song.
As Ed Martin inelegantly put it, in speaking later with her father, Missy had “canned the Cosmos.”