"Don't be such a weakling, mother," the young
man replied teasingly. "If you really wish Betty to go to Europe with
you and father say so and let that settle the matter, but I am not so
sure this new scheme of hers is a bad one. Betty sent me a night
telegram at bedtime last night (telephoned it, I suppose, when you
thought she was in bed) asking me to come home for the day and help her
get her own way. Living out of doors all summer, mother, and learning
to look after herself and to rub up against other girls may be the best
thing in the world for Betty. I am afraid she has been growing up to be
more ornamental than useful."
"There is no reason why Betty should be anything but ornamental," Mrs.
Ashton argued, although plainly thinking over her son's words.
Dick Ashton shook his head. "No, mother, the modern world has no place
in it but for useful people nowadays. And somehow it seems to me that
even more is going to be asked of women than has been asked of men.
They have got to do their own housekeeping and some of the world's too,
pretty soon."
Before the young fellow finished speaking he and his mother were both
smiling and waving their hands toward Mollie and Polly O'Neill, who were
at this moment crossing the street with several other girl friends.
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