“He’s such a fine fellow,” said Ethel. “You know mother and I met him when we went down to see you at the University last spring. He’s such a splendid type!”
“The kind of high-minded, self-respecting young man we like to have you know, Grace,” remarked Mrs. Durland.
“John’s a dear,” said Grace warmly. “And you told him to go to Professor Duroy’s, and of course he didn’t find me there.”
“No; and he called a second time, thinking he had misunderstood. He was very anxious to get you to go with him to the football game tomorrow and was afraid you might make some other engagement. It was just a little embarrassing that we couldn’t tell him where you were.”
“You might have told him to come to the store in the morning,” Grace replied. “Well, I guess I may as well make a clean breast of it! I played hooky! Irene and I went to a supper party.”
“So you told me an untruth!” exclaimed Mrs. Durland, staring wide-eyed at the culprit. “Grace, this isn’t like you. You should have told me you were not going to Professor Duroy’s. You might have saved me my worry last night when you were so late and the Kirbys said Irene had not been home and that she told her family she was spending the night with a friend.”
“Yes, mamma: I shouldn’t have told you a fib. I’m sorry. It was a dreadful sin!”
She looked from one to the other smiling, hoping to dispel the gloom that seemed to hang above the table. It was not however in her sister’s mind to suffer the deception to pass unrebuked.
“You’ll tell us, I suppose, whom you had supper with besides Irene?”
Her sister’s question angered Grace the more by reason of the tone of forbearance in which it was uttered. She would tell them nothing. A crisis had risen in her relations with her family and she resolved to meet it boldly.