“I must go in now,” she said hurriedly. “Mother's waiting up for me.”
“Well I guess I'll see you soon. You're up at Kitty's a lot, aren't you?”
“Yes,” she murmured, one eye on the upstairs window. So many things she had to say now. A little while ago she hadn't been able to talk. Now, for no apparent reason, there was much to say, yet no time to say it. How queer Life was!
“To-morrow, I expect,” she hurried on. “Good night, Mr. Henley.” “Good night—Missy.” With his daring, gleaming smile.
Inside the hall door, mother, wrapper-clad, met her disapprovingly. “Missy, where in the world did you get all those flowers?”
“Ji—Kitty's cousin gave them to me.”
“For the land's sake!” It required a moment for mother to find further words. Then she continued accusingly: “I thought you were to come home with Mrs. Allen and Kitty.”
“Kitty got sick, and her mother had to take her home.”
“Why didn't you come with them?”
“Oh, mother! I was having such a good time!” For the minute Missy had forgotten there had been a shred of anything but “good time” in the whole glorious evening. “And Mrs. Allen said I might stay and come home with Jim and—”