“And mother loved the same things I do,” quickly defended Barbara, in turn putting her hands on his shoulders.
“Yes, but not at your age,” he argued.
A silence fell between them. The man whose shoulders were straight as a soldier’s, in spite of his bending over with constant research work, was now thinking of Barbara’s mother. She was gone. Her devotion to nursing during the war had cost her her life with the deadly influenza then ravaging the camps among America’s flower of youth. She had been a nurse, just as Barbara was now determined to be, and the research work in bacteriology, which was Dr. Hale’s chosen field, had been as fascinating to her as it now threatened to become to Barbara.
“Do you mean, Dads, that we shouldn’t do any more experiments this summer?” his daughter asked gently.
“I do, dear. This must be your play season. I’ve got plenty to do single-handed. I’ll miss your help, of course——” he hurried to interject, “but you must promise me, right this minute, to fall in line with the girls and boys——”
“And fall out of line—with you!” Barbara’s arms went quickly about his neck and so the promise was given.
“And this is splendid, this affair today,” her father continued, when he recovered his composure. “I only wish you had a lot of pretty things——”
“I have, slathers of them,” she fibbed bravely. But no mention was made of Cara’s offer of the extra party dress.
Nor did she bother to tell her dad that Glenn Gaynor was expected to be at the party. Glenn was the attractive youth who figured so prominently in Barbara’s appearance on the beach, when Cara and her girl friends stood at a safe distance, thrilled in admiration.
One hour more—and then she must be at Billows.