The young man’s work in the foundry alternated weekly between day and night duty.  It occurred to Edna that her young man could not possibly know what she did with those evenings he remained in the foundry.  If she chose to go with a group of girls to a dance hall, what harm?  The long years of married life stretched themselves out somewhat drably to Edna.  She decided to have a good time beforehand.

This girl from now on literally lived a double life.  Evenings of the weeks her young man was free from the foundry, she spent at home with him, placidly playing cards, reading aloud, or talking.  On the other evenings she danced, madly, incessantly.  Her mother thought she spent the evenings with her girl friends.  The dancing, plus the deceit, soon had its effect on Edna.  She began to visit livelier and livelier resorts, curious to see all phases of pleasure.

Suspicion entered into the mind of her affianced.  He questioned her; she lied, and he was unconvinced.  A night or two later the young man stayed away from the foundry and followed Edna to a suburban resort.  She went, as usual, with a group of girls, but their men were waiting for them near the door of the open-air dancing pavilion.  Standing just outside, the angry lover watched the girl “spiel” round and round with a man of doubtful respectability.  Soon she joined a noisy, beer-drinking group at one of the tables, and her behavior grew more and more reckless.  Finally, amid laughter, she and another girl performed a suggestive dance together.

Walking swiftly up to her, the outraged foundryman grasped her by the shoulder, called her a name she did not yet deserve, and threw her violently to the floor.  A terrific fight followed, and the police soon cleared the place.

Edna did not dare go home.  An over-rigid standard of morals, an over-repressive policy, an over-righteous judgment, plus a mother ignorant of the facts of life, plus a girl’s longing for joy—­the sum of these equaled ruin in Edna’s case.

CHAPTER VIII

WOMAN’S HELPING HAND TO THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER

Annie, Sadie, Edna, thousands of girls like them, girls of whom almost identical stories might be told, help to swell the long procession of prodigals every succeeding year.  They joined that procession ignorantly because they thirsted for pleasure.  Their days were without interest, their minds were unfurnished with any resources.  At fourteen most of them left public school.  Reading and writing are about as much intellectual accomplishments as the school gives them, and the work waiting for them in factory, mill, or department store is rarely of a character to increase their intelligence.

Ask a girl, “Why do you go to the dance hall?  Why don’t you stay home evenings?” Nine times in ten her answer will be:  “What should I do with myself, sitting home and twirling my fingers?”