The other Whipple intervened.

“What was our pride and our joy bent upon this time?” he suavely demanded.  “I take it you’ve thwarted her in some new plot against the public tranquillity.”

“The young person you indicate,” said Juliana, “was about to leave her home forever—­going out to live her own life away from these distasteful surroundings.”

“So soon?  We should be proud of her!  At that tender age, going out to make a name for herself!”

“I gather from this very intelligent young gentleman here that she had made the name for herself before even starting.”

“It was Ben Blunt,” remarked the young gentleman, helpfully.

“Hey!” Sharon Whipple affected dismay.  “Then what about this young girl at his side?  Don’t tell me she was luring him from his home here?”

“It will surprise you to know,” said Juliana in her best style, “that this young girl before you is not a girl.”

Both Whipples ably professed amazement.

“Not a girl?” repeated the suave Whipple incredulously.  “You do amaze me, Juliana!  Not a girl, with those flower-like features, those starry eyes, that feminine allure?  Preposterous!  And yet, if he is not a girl he is, I take it, a boy.”

“A boy who incited the light of our house to wayward courses by changing clothes with her.”

The harsher Whipple spoke here in a new tone.

“Then she browbeat him into it.  Scissors and white aprons—­yes, I know her!”

“He didn’t seem browbeaten.  They were smoking quite companionably when I chanced upon them.”

“Smoking!  Our angel child smoking!”

This from Sharon Whipple in tones that every child present knew as a mere pretense of horror.  Juliana shrugged cynically.

“They always go to the bad after they leave their nice homes,” she said.

“Children should never smoke till they are twenty-one, and then they get a gold watch for it,” interjected the orator, Merle.  He had felt that he was not being made enough of.  “It’s bad for their growing systems,” he added.

“And this?” asked Gideon Whipple, indicating the moralist.

“The brother of that”—­Juliana pointed.  “He did his best in the way of advice, I gather, but neither of the pair would listen to him.  He seems to be safely conservative, but not to have much influence over his fellows.”

“Willing to talk about it, though,” said Sharon Whipple, pointedly.

The girl now glowered at each of them in turn.

“I don’t care!” she muttered.  “I will, too, run away!  You see!”

“It’s what they call a fixed idea,” explained Juliana.  “She doesn’t care and she will, too, run away.  But where is Mrs. Harvey?”

“Poor soul!” murmured Sharon.  “Think what a lot she’s missed already!  Do call her, my dear!”

Juliana stepped to the doorway and called musically into the dusky hall:  “Mrs. Harvey!  Mrs. Harvey!  Come quickly, please!  We have something lovely to show you!”