I saw mother had been talking, and I drew myself up.

“They look and act like other people,” said Leila, going to the bureau and spilling Powder all over the place.  “Look at Beecher.”

“Beecher!” I cried, with a thrill that started inside my elbows. (I have read this to one or two of the girls, and they say there is no such thrill.  But not all people act alike under the influence of emotion, and mine is in my Arms, as stated.)

“The playwright,” Sis said.  “He’s staying next door.  And if he does any languishing it is not by himself.”

There may be some who have for a long time had an Ideal, but without hoping ever to meet him, and then suddenly learning that he is nearby, with indeed but a wall or two between, can be calm and cool.  But I am not like that.  Although long supression has taught me to disemble at times, where my Heart is concerned I am powerless.

For it was at last my heart that was touched.  I, who had scorned the Other Sex and felt that I was born cold and always would be cold, that day I discovered the truth.  Reginald Beecher was my ideal.  I had never spoken to him, nor indeed seen him, except for his pictures.  But the very mention of his name brought a lump to my Throat.

Feeling better imediately, I got Sis out of the room and coaxed Hannah to bring me some dinner.  While she was sneaking it out of the Pantrey I was dressing, and soon, as a new being, I was out on the stone bench at the foot of the lawn, gazing with wrapt eyes at the sea.

But Fate was against me.  Eddie Perkins saw me there and came over.  He had but recently been put in long trowsers, and those not his best ones but only white flannels.  He was never sure of his garters, and was always looking to see if his socks were coming down.  Well, he came over just as I was sure I saw Reginald Beecher next door on the veranda, and made himself a nusance right away, trying all sorts of kid tricks, such as snaping a rubber Band at me, and pulling out Hairpins.

But I felt that I must talk to somone.  So I said: 

“Eddie, if you had your choice of love or a Career, which would it be?”

“Why not both,” he said, hiching the rubber band onto one of his front teeth and playing on it.  “Niether ought to take up all a fellow’s time.  Say, listen to this!  Talk about a eukelele!”

“A woman can never have both.”

He played a while, struming with one finger until the hand sliped off and stung him on the lip.

“Once,” I said, “I dreamed of a Career.  But I beleive love’s the most important.”

Well, I shall pass lightly over what followed.  Why is it that a girl cannot speak of Love without every member of the Other Sex present, no matter how young, thinking it is he?  And as for mother maintaining that I kissed that wreched Child, and they saw me from the drawing-room, it is not true and never was true.  It was but one more Misunderstanding which convinced the Familey that I was carrying on all manner of afairs.