"You'd better go see that nothing happens, Doug," said Mary Spencer.
"John's drunk too much."

"I'm going home," declared Douglas. "I got some pride, and Judith's
treated me like a dog to-night. She's too fond of starting something she
don't know the finish of."

Mary and he were riding alone in the dawn. "You promised me you'd look
out for her. Don't you care for her any more, Douglas?"

"Yes, I do!"

"Have you ever told her so?"

"She's too young."

"No, she isn't, Douglas. You remember you told me she knew more than I
do."

Douglas said nothing; and after a moment, his step-mother said,
hesitatingly, "Doug, I hate to see you dancing so much with Inez."

"What harm was there in it?"

"I don't know that I can tell you, Doug. When I was a girl, going to the
log schoolhouse, we girls never thought of touching whiskey. Our mothers
would have killed us if we had."

"The world do move!" grunted Douglas.