“Well, maybe I'll be dropping along that way about that time,” opined Arthur. “Maybe I'll see you there.”
“That would be nice,” said Missy, tingling.
She continued to tingle after he had jauntily departed with his basket and clattered away in his delivery wagon. She had a “date” with Arthur. The first real “date” she'd ever had! Then, resolutely she squashed her thrills; she must remember that this meeting was for a Christian cause. The motive was what made it all right for her to disobey--that is, to SEEM to disobey--her parents' commands. They didn't “understand.” She couldn't help feeling a little perturbed over her apparent disobedience and had to argue, hard with her conscience.
Then, another difficulty presented itself to her mind. Mother had set her foot down on evening visits to the Library--mother seemed to think girls went there evenings chiefly to meet boys! Mother would never let her go--especially in such weather and with a sore throat. Missy pondered long and earnestly.
The result was that, after supper, at which mother had appeared, pale and heavy-eyed, Missy said tentatively:
“Can I run up to Kitty's a little while to See what the lessons are for to-morrow?”
“I don't think you'd better, dear,” mother replied listlessly. “It wouldn't be wise, with that throat.”
“But my throat's better. And I've GOT to keep up my lessons, mother! And just a half a block can't hurt me if I bundle up.” Missy had formulated her plan well; Kitty Allen had been chosen as an alibi because of her proximity.
As Missy sped toward the library, conflicting emotions swirled within her and joined forces with the sharp breathlessness brought on by her haste. She had never before been out alone at night, and the blackness of tree-shadows lying across the intense whiteness of the snow struck her in two places at once--imaginatively in the brain and fearsomely in the stomach. Nor is a guilty conscience a reassuring companion under such circumstances. Missy kept telling herself that, if she HAD lied a little bit, it was really her parents' fault; if they had only let her go to church, she wouldn't have been driven to sneaking out this way. But her trip, however fundamentally virtuous--and with whatever subtly interwoven elements of pleasure at its end--was certainly not an agreeable one. At the moment Missy resolved never, never to sneak off alone at night again.