“O, no,” responded Helen, quickly. “You’re usually as good as mother; but there were some special things I wanted to ask her about this evening. I suppose I can wait,” she added, dolorously.
“Try me and see if I won’t answer tolerably well. What are these weighty problems?” drawing his daughter to his knee as he spoke.
“That’s it,” pouted Helen. “You always make fun,—mother doesn’t.”
“Pardon me, daughter, I had no intention of making fun. I only wanted you to feel at home with me. It was a clumsy attempt, I’ll admit, but really and truly I would like to be in your confidence—to feel that you trust me, too. I can’t fill mother’s place, I know, but I can do what mother can’t, I can give you the man’s view of things, and that is sometimes of great value for a girl to know.”
“Yes,” said Helen, snuggling down in her father’s lap, for they were great friends and she felt his sympathy. “I often wish we could know how things look to other people. I know boys don’t look at matters as girls do, but we can’t always tell just what they do think.”
“That is true,” replied Mr. Wayne, gravely. “I often think that if girls knew just what boys say among themselves it would make them more careful of their conduct.
“For instance, not long ago I was on a steamer where there was dancing. I went into the smoking room, and there I heard the comments of the young men. I am sure the girls had no idea how their dress, figures, freedom and flirtatiousness were criticised and laughed at by these young men, who seemed to them, doubtless, so very nice and polite. Of course, these girls were mostly strangers to the young men and were getting acquainted 11 without introductions, probably thinking it fine fun.”
“Yes, father. I’ve heard some of the real nice girls talk about getting acquainted in that way, and they seem to think it all right. Someway, it never seemed quite nice to me.”
“I hope not, my daughter. I should be sorry to have you form acquaintances in that way. You never can tell what a man’s character is by his clothes or manners. Indeed, you may think you know a man pretty well, and yet be mistaken. I suppose girls who are familiar with young men and allow them liberties imagine that they are trustworthy. I sat in front of two young men on a train not long ago. They appeared well and really were nice, as boys go, but they had the usual boy’s idea as to honor. They were talking freely of the girls they knew, discussing their merits and charms, saying that this one was soft and ‘huggable,’ that another was sweet to kiss—”