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“Have you started your dinner, Lucile?” she demanded.

“No, Ted just came home,” reported Lucile. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t let him take time to dress,” urged her mother. “You must go right out and chaperon Gail.”

“Where is she?” Lucile delayed to inquire.

“At some roadhouse, dining with Mr. Allison!”

“Well, what do you think of Gail!” exulted Lucile. “Oh, Arly!” and Mrs. Davies heard the receiver drop to the end of its line. She heard laughter, and then the voice of Lucile again. “Mother, she’s with Edward E. Allison, and they’ll do better without a chaperon. Besides, mother dear, there’s a million roadhouses. We’ll come down after dinner. I want to see her when she returns.”

“I don’t suppose she could be found, except by accident,” granted her mother, and gave up the enterprise. “Times are constantly changing,” she complained to her sister. “The management of a girl becomes more difficult every year. So much freedom makes them disregardful of the aid of their elders in making a selection.”