When she went in, it was to face unpleasantness. Her mother, with
her bonnet strings dangling, was helping Lydia hastily to remove
signs of the recent tea party. Sally was in the kitchen; Len reading
opposite his father.

"Come here a minute, Martie," her father called as I the girl
hesitated in the hallway. Martie came in and eyed him. "I would like
to know what circumstances led to young Parker's being here this
afternoon?" he asked.

"Why--we were walking, and I--I suppose I asked him, Pa."

"You SUPPOSE you asked him?"

"Well--I DID ask him."

"Oh, you DID ask him; that's different. You had spoken to your
mother about it?"

"No." Martie swallowed. "No," she said again nervously. There was a
silence while her father eyed her coldly.

"Then you ask whom you like to the house, do you? Is that the idea?
You upset your mother's and your sister's arrangement entirely at
your own pleasure?" he suggested presently.

"I didn't think it was so much to ask a person to have a cup of
tea!" Martie stammered, with a desperate attempt at self-defense.
She felt tears pressing against her eyes. Lydia would have been