"Haven't you kissed him?" Jane asked severely.
"Oh, that!" said Gladys. "Oh yes, I kissed him," and she giggled reminiscently. "I thought it would do him good. He was so set up. He's better now—gives you a kiss quite natural. You've no idea reely what he was like to begin with. You'll hardly believe it, miss, I know, but I'm his first. I am reely."
"And are you fond of him?"
"Me, miss? Fond of him? Why, he's more like a dried haddock than a young man. I only tried to show him a bit of life and put him in the way of enjoying himself. For what's life to a young man without a girl to go out with? Why, nothing!"
"Now look here, Gladys," said Jane, very firmly and seriously. "This has got to stop, see? You mustn't show that young man any more life, as you call it. You don't want him, and it worries Mrs. Doveton."
"Mothers can't have it all their own way," said Gladys mutinously.
"Do you keep a list of your sweethearts?" Lucilla asked suddenly.
Gladys actually blushed.
"Not to say sweethearts. I don't like the word anyhow," she said. "But I do make a note of the names of them as I've walked out with—only initials, you know—in the end of me hymn-book. Nobody would know to look at it. Why, I forget myself what the letters stand for sometimes, I do assure you, miss."
"Well," said Lucilla, "you put down H.D., and then you give him up. Will you? To please me?"
"Oh, to please you, miss," said Gladys gracefully. "I'd do more than give up a little thing like that. If you'll lend me a stamp and a ongvelope I'll drop him a line this very minute to tell him cruel fate has come betwixt and it can never, never be."
"And what about Mr. Simmons?"
A curious change came over the face of Gladys: she looked
