“Why, Cloudy!” Her voice was almost trembling, and her cheeks were rosier than the tulle with disappointment. “Why, Cloudy, I thought it was lovely! It’s just like everybody’s else. I thought you would think I looked nice!” The child drooped, and Julia Cloud went up to her gently.
“It is beautiful, darling, and you are––exquisite! But, dear! It seems terrible for my little girl to go among young men so sort of nakedly. I’m sure if you understood life better, you wouldn’t do it. You are tempting men to wrong thoughts, undressed that way, and you are putting on common view the intimate loveliness of the body God gave you to keep holy and pure. It is the way cheap women have of making many men love them in a careless, physical way. I don’t know how to tell you, but it seems terrible to me. If you were my own little girl, I never, never would be willing to have you go out that way.”
“You’ve said enough!” almost screamed Leslie with a sudden frenzy of rage, shame, and disappointment. “I feel as if I never could look anybody in the face again!” And with a cry she flung herself into 211 the jumble of bright garments on her bed, and wept as if her heart would break. Julia Cloud stood over her in consternation, and tried to soothe her; but nothing did any good. The young storm had to have its way, and the slim pink shoulders shook in convulsive sobs, while the dismayed elder sat down beside the bed, with troubled eyes upon her, and waited, praying quietly.
In the midst of it all Allison appeared at the door.
“What in thunder is the matter? I’ve yelled my head off, and nobody answers. What is the matter with you, kid? It’s time we started, and you doing the baby act! I never thought you’d get hystericky.”
Leslie lifted a wet and smeary face out of her pillow and addressed her brother defiantly:
“I’ve good reason to cry!” she said. “Cloudy thinks I’m not decent to go out in this dress, and she won’t believe everybody dresses this way; and I’m not going! I’m never going anywhere again; I’m disgraced!” And down went her head in the pillow again with another long, convulsive sob.
Her brother strode over to her, and lifted her up firmly but gently.
“There, kid, quit your crying and be sensible. Stand up and let’s look at you.”
He stood her upon her feet; and she swayed there, quivering, half ashamed, her hands to her tear-stained face, her pink shoulders heaving and her soft, pink chest quivering with sobs, while he surveyed her.