She held out a slender shapely hand and Connie took it quickly, chummily, and the two girls turned toward the door.
"The danger in reading things," said Mr. Starr, and they paused to listen, "the danger is that we may find arguments we can not answer; we may feel that we have been in the wrong, that what we read is right. There's the danger. Whenever you find anything like that, Connie, will you bring it to me? I think I can find the answer for you. If I don't know it, I will look until I come upon it. For we have been given an answer to every argument. You'll come to me, won't you?"
"Yes, father, I will—I know you'll find the answers."
After the door had closed behind them, Mr. Starr sat for a long time staring straight before him into space.
"The Connie problem," he said at last. And then, "I'll have to be better pals with her. Connie's going to be pretty fine, I believe."
CHAPTER XIV
BOOSTING CONNIE
CONNIE was past fifteen when she announced gravely one day, "I've changed my mind. I'm going to be an author."
"An author," scoffed Carol. "You! I thought you were going to get married and have eleven children." Even with the dignity of nineteen years, the nimble wits of Carol and Lark still struggled with the irreproachable gravity of Connie.