speak, she passed the card to her mother and waited. "Oh," said
mother, "an evening party."

Melissa's soul dropped a trifle: it still clogged her throat, but
she was able to form words.

"Oh, mother!"

"You KNOW you're not to ask to go to evening parties, Missy."
Mother's tone was as firm as doom.

Missy turned her eyes to father.

"Don't look at me with those big saucers!" he smiled. "Mother's the
judge."

So Missy turned her eyes back again. "Mother, PLEASE-"

But mother shook her head. "You're too young to begin such things,
Missy. I don't know what this town's coming to--mere babies running
round at night, playing cards and dancing!"

"But, mother--"

"Don't start teasing, Missy. It won't do any good."

So Missy didn't start teasing, but her soul remained choking in her
throat. It made it difficult for her to swallow, and nothing tasted
good, though they had lamb chops, which she adored.