"But she's a girl," remonstrated Mr. Emerson.
"I guess girls nowadays are different from girls in your day, Grandfather," said Roger wisely. "We were talking last night at the Hancocks' about fathers one or two generations ago—how savage they were compared with fathers to-day."
"Savage!" repeated Mr. Emerson under his breath.
"Wasn't your father more severe to his children than you ever were to yours?" persisted Roger.
"Perhaps he was," admitted the old gentleman slowly.
"And I'm sure Father is much easier on me than his father was on him although Father expects a sort of service discipline from me," continued Roger.
"May be so," agreed his hearer.
"Just in the same way I believe girls are changing. They used to be content to think what the rest of the family thought on most things. If they ever 'bucked' at all it was when they fell in love with some man the stern parent didn't approve of, and then they were doing something frightful if they insisted on having their own way, like Aunt Louise Morton."
"Surely you don't think she did right to run off!"
"I'm sorry she did it, but I believe if she had been reasoned with instead of ordered, and if Grandfather Morton had tried to see the best in the man she was in love with instead of booting him out as if he were a burglar, it might have come out differently."