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FLAMING

YOUTH

ficial import, its underlying and provocative symbolism had stirred in the youngest member of the family an imagination as inflammable as it was unself-comprehending. Constance’s matter-of-fact mind could not interpret the eager and searching scrutiny of her sister, though it made her restless and uneasy and vaguely shamed her. The afternoon before the wedding, Pat tiptoed in upon her

as she was resting on Mona’s sleeping-porch. “Connie,” she half whispered. “Well?” returned the bride crossly. “Where are you going?” “Going? I’m tryia o rest.” “Where are you goiug after you’re married? To a hotel?” “What do you want to know for?” demanded the elder sister, raising herself on her elbow to look at the younger. “Nothing. I just wanted to know.” “Well, you won’t. Not from me.” “Oh, verra-well! You needn’t get all fussed up about it.” “Oh, don’t be hateful, Pat.

I want to rests

“Pll go in just a minute. But The bride sighed, a martyrized “What is it?” “When you get back—when I will you tell me?” “What is the child getting at! “Everything.” “T don’t know what you mean,” “Yes, youdo. You know.”

Con?”

sigh.

get back from school, Tell you what?”

fended Constance.

The older girl flushed a slow pink, then laughed. “You're a funny little monkey! Why should you want to know?” “Well,

I've got to go

through

haven’t I?” reasoned the girl.

it sometime,

myself,