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for fear somebody is watching. I want to ‘wave my wild tail and walk by my wild lone.’ There wasn’t a bit of real harm in my opening that window and talking to Perry. There wasn’t even any harm in his trying to kiss me. He just did it to tease me. Oh, I hate conventions. As you say—hang consequences.”

“But we can’t hang ’em, Pussy—that’s just the trouble. They’re more likely to hang us. I put it to you, Pussy—suppose—there’s no harm in supposing it—that you were grown up and married and had a daughter of your age, and you went downstairs one night and found her as Aunt Ruth found you and Perry. Would you like it? Would you be well pleased? Honest, now?”

Emily stared hard at the fire for a moment.

“No, I wouldn’t,” she said at last. “But then—that’s different. I wouldn’t know.”

Cousin Jimmy chuckled.

“That’s the point, Pussy. Other people can’t know. So we’ve got to watch our step. Oh, I’m only simple Jimmy Murray, but I can see we have to watch our step. Pussy, we’re going to have roast spare-ribs for supper.”

A savoury whiff crept in from the kitchen at that very moment—a homely, comfortable odour that had nothing in common with compromising situations and family skeletons. Emily gave Cousin Jimmy another hug.

“Better a dinner of herbs where Cousin Jimmy is than roast spare-ribs and Aunt Ruth therewith,” she said.

TERE are times when I am tempted to believe in the influence of evil stars or the reality of unlucky days. Otherwise how can such diabolical things happen as do happen to well-meaning people? Aunt Ruth has