without a sign of the lovely tumult in her heart.
Then those frustrated women sat and sewed away, and occasionally lifted baffled eyes and glared at one another, as much as to say, "Does that Blythe Bonniwell think she can get away with a thing like this as easily as all that?"
And at last Anne lifted her head with a toss and sang out clearly for them all to hear. "Well, who was your friend? It was Dan Seavers, wasn't it? I was sure I knew his voice. Are you and he going to the benefit concert at the arena to-night? I suppose that's what he called up about. I don't see why you had to hedge about answering him that way. I'm curious to know if he succeeded in getting tickets after waiting all this time. And I think I know where he could get a couple if he didn't. I know somebody who has some who has to leave town to-night. Do you think he would like them?"
Blythe looked up with a distant little smile.
"Why, I wouldn't know, Anne," she said. "That wasn't Dan calling."
"Well, who was it then, with a voice so much like Dan's?"
"Oh, it was just one of my friends in the air corps," said Blythe easily. "I don't think you would know him. He was only here on a brief furlough."
Anne looked at her curiously.
"Oh, yes?" she said contemptuously, but Blythe was too happy to be ruffled by her contempt and went on making buttonholes with a radiance upon her lovely face that defied the scrutiny, furtive or open, of all those women. She went happily through the morning, thinking her pleasant thoughts. True, Charlie Montgomery was going from her, but he was leaving his love in her heart, and for the present that was all she needed to give her joy.
And thus, thinking her happy thoughts, Blythe's morning went forward with its business, and at last was over, so that she was free to go on to her home and wait for whatever might be in store.
Dearest. Had he really said that? She hugged the memory to her heart.
But back in the room she had left, where the other women were purposely idling about, putting on their wraps, and getting ready to leave, there was a significant silence until the sound of her footsteps died away in the distance and the ordinary routine noises of the street assured them that Blythe was well out of hearing. Then they relaxed almost audibly.
"Well," said Mrs. Bruce grimly, "she certainly has more brass! Imagine her sitting here sewing after she had been through that playacting on the telephone. Was that really Dan who called her, Anne?"
Anne Houghton shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, I certainly thought it was. But why on earth she considered she had to tell a lie about it, I'm sure I don't know. It wouldn't of much importance, would it? We all know she runs after him day in and day out."
"I don't think she does," said Mrs. Felton. "She's too well bred to run after anybody. Remember, Anne, her mother is a lady."
Anne shrugged again. "That's not saying she is one," she said.
"What makes you hate her so?" asked Mrs. Felton, looking gravely, steadily at Anne.
"Oh, I don't hate her," laughed Anne. "I don't give the matter that much importance. I merely think she's so smug, and she does like to give big impressions about herself. See to-day how determined she was to let us think that was some soldier she was talking to, one of those soldiers she's hostess to up at the canteen. She wants us to think that she can flirt around like the other girls."
"She doesn't flirt at the canteen," said Mrs. Stanton gravely. "I go there every night, and I've never seen her do anything out of the way."
"And I guess you'll find that Blythe is busy some nights doing evening hospital work or something of that sort. Isn't she? I'm sure I heard that," said Mrs. Felton.
"Oh, really? I think you must be mistaken. I saw her out with Dan Seaver last night and also the night before." That from Anne.
"Well, I suppose she must have some nights off. Most of them do, don't they?"
"I'm sure I wouldn't know," said Anne coldly. "But for heaven's sake, don't let's talk about that girl anymore. I'm fed up with her. She gets on my nerves every time I see her. Just say she's a paragon and let it go at that. If that's what you like in a girl, then that's what you like. Good-bye. I'm going out to lunch and I'm late now." Anne slammed out of the door, her high heels clicking as she hurried away.
Mrs. Felton and Mrs. Bruce walked slowly down the street behind Anne and watched the arrogant swing of her shoulders till she vanished around the next corner. Then after a pause Mrs. Felton said, "Young people are awfully rude nowadays, don't you think?"
"I certainly do," said Mrs. Bruce, with a heavy sigh. "It's the one thing that makes me glad my daughter died when she was a child, so she wouldn't have to live to grow up in this impudent age."
Mrs. Felton uttered a sympathetic little sound and walked thoughtfully on until they parted.
CHAPTER IV
The telephone was ringing as Blythe entered the front door, and she hastened to answer it, wondering if it could possibly be Charlie again so soon. But it was only a tradesman calling up about something that had been ordered that he couldn't supply yet, and she turned away with a sigh.
Upstairs, her mother met her in the hall, smiling.
"Oh, you're back, Blythe," she said. "I didn't think you'd be here for a half hour yet. Well, I just made a tentative engagement for you for this evening. Dan Seavers called. He wanted you to go somewhere with him to-night. I forget where. But I told him I was sure you'd be glad to go."
"Oh Mother!" said Blythe in dismay. "Not this evening! I really can't go this evening."
"Why, why not, child? If it's that hospital-office work, I think you give entirely too much time to that. It isn't good for your health, after you have sewed all the morning. And you really ought to take some days off and not slave all the time, even if it is wartime. The government doesn't want to kill anyone, and there's no need to go to excess, even in a good thing."
Blythe was silent and thoughtful for a moment, then she looked up.
"Is Dan going to call up again?"
"No, I think not," said her mother. "He's going to be away this afternoon, but he said you could call and leave word with the butler what time you would be ready. And he'll be here as early as you say."
"All right," said Blythe after an instant's thought, "I'll attend to it."
Her mother turned away, smiling, satisfied. After all, Mother didn't know, couldn't understand, why she must stay at home to-night. She better engineer this thing herself. Later, when she could talk about this, she would tell her mother all about Charlie Montgomery. But not now, not till it was more a part of herself so that she would be able to answer questions and make her mother fully understand.
She watched her mother get ready to go out to her war work, watched her down the street, and then she went to the telephone and left a message with the Seavers's butler.
"Please tell Mr. Dan that Miss Bonniwell
