“Now, Grace, you know Ethel is older and views everything much more soberly than you do. You know she’s in touch with all these agencies that are trying to protect the young from the evils of a growing city.”
“Just what evils?” Grace demanded.
“There are some things,” said Ethel impressively, “that it’s better not to talk about.”
“That’s always the way!” Grace flared. “You’re always insinuating that the world’s going to the devil but you never say just how. I know perfectly well what you’re driving at. You think because I work in a department store I can’t be as good as you are! I’ll tell you right now that the girls I know in Shipley’s are just as good as any girls in town—perfectly splendid hard-working girls. And one other thing I can tell you, they don’t spend their time sneering at everybody else. I’d rather be the worst sinner in creation than so pure I couldn’t see a little good in other people.”
“Please, Grace!” Mrs. Durland pleaded. “You’re unreasonable. No one was saying anything about you or any other girl in Shipley’s.”
“Oh, Ethel doesn’t have to say it straight out! I’m not so stupid! Every time she takes that sanctified air she’s preaching at me. I don’t pretend to be an angel but I’m tired of hearing how wicked everybody is. I don’t dare ask any of the girls I work with to the house; you think they’re all rotten.”
“I don’t think they’re all bad, and I’ve never said such a thing,” Ethel declared, “But I have said that Irene Kirby is not the type of girl I’d deliberately choose to be my sister’s most intimate friend, and I say it again.”
“Now, Ethel, you girls mustn’t hurt each other’s feelings! If you must quarrel please don’t do it before your father and me.”
This consideration for her father’s feelings was so unusual that Grace laughed. Durland had been twisting uneasily in his chair. His sympathies were wholly with Grace. Ethel’s indirect method of criticizing her younger sister enraged him, and in this particular instance he was secretly pleased that Grace was striking back. He glanced about the table, cleared his throat and asked in his mild tone for a second cup of coffee.
“I hardly know Irene Kirby,” said Ethel, “but I have heard some things about her I hate to hear about any girl.”