Ralph Henry Barbour

“ Vernon viewed her dubiously.
“With all the nice morning gowns you have, dear,” she said in mild disapproval, “it seems to me——”
Beryl laughed softly. “Mamma, you are perfectly ridiculous on the subject of Mr. Shortland! Perhaps you'd like me to put on an evening gown?”
“Nonsense! But one might as well look one's best, for Mr. Shortland or any one else. For goodness' sake, Jennie, you don't expect me to wear that thing, do you? Why, you know it's a perfect mess!” ”

“ Mr. Shortland isn't a stranger; he's—he's quite like one of the family. Besides, we certainly have a right to know what he is up to in our garden.”
“Very well, Mamma; I'll go down and stand on the steps. If he sees me and sees fit to speak, I will ask him. But you musn't expect me to rush down the street after him!”
“You are getting more absurd every day,” replied Mrs. Vernon abstractedly. “Come in! ”

“ Without seeing, one would have known that Beryl was withdrawing from the proximity of the window as she spoke.
“Are you dressed to go down?” asked her mother.
“Dressed and in my right mind, dear; and my right mind tells me that a modest and proper young lady doesn't rush out into the garden to receive gentlemen.” ”