ple had had no bringing-up.") And all sorts of queer questionable things going on at night—doors opening softly and closing—whispers—giggles. The walls were like paper. Lord, she'd be glad to get away from Belcher's Beach! Thank heaven, the four weeks were at an end.
To-night she'd be sleeping at the King Arthur! To-morrow night Lollie would be sleeping with her at the King Arthur! She hummed deep in her throat as she packed. Nothing gave Stella the blue doldrums like this month of Belcher's Beach. Nothing gave her the spring-song feeling like release from it.
This year Belcher's Beach hadn't been quite so bad as usual, though. At least it ought not to have been. Ed Munn had done his best to brighten it up. Funny, though, Stella would be about as glad to get away from Ed as from the boarding-house. What ailed her? Ed had been ever so generous. Every single Saturday since Laurel had been away, and one Sunday, he had planned some diverting form of entertainment. It must have cost him a pretty penny! Stella was filled with remorse that she couldn't work up any real excitement over Ed. He was paying for "all wool," and deserved it, not the imitation stuff she gave him. It was all pretense with her when she returned his various little signs and signals. How pitiful to be so old one isn't even tempted to flirt any more! How amazing to be so crazy about your own child that being crazy about a man loses all interest and excitement in comparison.
Sometimes, looking straight into Ed Munn's little red hippopotamus eyes, trying her utmost to pay for
