An indifferent young woman wiped their table with a damp rag, as she took their order, both, with the daring of their years, deciding upon the murderous combination of banana ice-cream and soda with chopped nuts and fruit.  Julia had no sooner settled back contentedly to wait for it, than her eye encountered the beaming faces of her late companions, who, finding Haas’s crowded, had naturally drifted on to Maskey’s.

Much giggling and blushing and teasing ensued.  Julia was radiant as a rose; every time she caught sight of her own pretty reflection in the surrounding mirrors, a fresh thrill of self-confidence warmed her.  She and Mark followed the banana confection with a dish apiece of raspberry ice-cream, and afterward walked home—­it was not far—­to the house in which they both lived.

“And so we don’t quarrel any more?” Mark asked, in the dim hallway outside her door.

“Not if you won’t play mean tricks on me!” Julia pouted, raising her face so that the dim light of the gas jet that burned year in and year out, in the blistered red-glass shade, fell upon the soft curves of her face.

It was a deliberate piece of coquetry, and Julia, although neither he nor any other man had ever done it before, was not at all surprised to have Mark suddenly close his strong arms about her, and kiss her, with a sort of repressed violence, on the mouth.  She struggled from his hold, as a matter of course, laughed a little laugh of triumph and excitement, and shut herself into her own door.

Emeline was lying in bed, looking over some fashion and theatrical magazines.  Upon her daughter’s entrance she gave a comfortable yawn.

“Did Mark find you, Julie?  He was sitting on the stairs when I got home, mad because you didn’t go out with them.”

“Yep, he found me!” Julia answered, still panting.

“It strikes me he’s a little mushy on you, Julie,” Emeline said, lazily, turning a page.  “And if you were a little older, or he had more of a job, I’d give him a piece of my mind.  You ain’t going to marry his sort, I should hope.  But, Lord, you’re both only kids!”

“I guess I can mind my own business, Mama,” Julia said.

“Well, I guess you can,” Emeline conceded amiably.  “Look, Ju, at the size of these sleeves—­ain’t that something fierce?  Get the light out as soon as you can, lovey,” she added, flinging away her magazine, and rolling herself tight in the covers, with bright eyes fixed on the girl.

Ten minutes later Emeline was asleep.  But Julia lay long awake, springtime in her blood, her eyes smiling mysteriously into the dark.

CHAPTER III