“Let’s go over to speak to Mother. There she is next to the punch bowl.” He piloted them to where Minna was serving refreshments.
“Minna,” he began, as he drew his wife to the comer where Judy and Karl waited, “I understand you’ve forbidden the time-honored custom of two youngsters taking a walk by moonlight.” He smiled, “Any crimes committed of which I am ignorant?”
“No crimes, unless impertinence, defiance—” She stopped and looked at her daughter’s eyes, pleading. Was Judy solely to blame for the scene? As her mother, wasn’t she being a little ridiculous? The girl had asked for sympathy and understanding and all she had given her was logic and cold reasoning! The wisdom and tenderness of her own parents during her adolescence flashed through her mind. Why wasn’t she like them? Instead she was following the pattern of Grandmother Fannie, Judy’s great-grandmother! She recognized herself with a start—she had always admired the grim strength of that remarkable old lady and yet with what delight she had heard her mother tell how she had been brought to terms!
“What was it you asked me, John?” Minna asked, recalled to the present.
“The youngsters want to take a walk. Any valid objection?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said lamely.
She turned to her daughter. “I guess I was just putting myself in your great-grandmother’s shoes. She had very definite ideas about—life. Sometime I’ll tell you about her. But,” she added with a smile, “I don’t measure up to her, nor do I really wish to.”
Judy looked at her mother. “Thanks awfully. You know I didn’t mean any of—”
“I know, dear,” her mother spoke gently. She turned to Karl. “Only don’t stay out late. Remember, we leave very early tomorrow morning.”