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Mellicent had little time now to go walking or auto-riding with Carl Pennock. Her daily life was, indeed, more pleasure-starved than ever—all of which was not lost on Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith and Mellicent were fast friends now. Given a man with a sympathetic understanding on one side, and a girl hungry for that same sympathy and understanding, and it could hardly be otherwise. From Mellicent's own lips Mr. Smith knew now just how hungry a young girl can be for fun and furbelows.

"Of course I've got my board and clothes, and I ought to be thankful for them," she stormed hotly to him one day. "And I AM thankful for them. But sometimes it seems as if I'd actually be willing to go hungry for meat and potato, if for once—just once—I could buy a five-pound box of candy, and eat it up all at once, if I wanted to! But now, why now I can't even treat a friend to an ice-cream soda without seeing mother's shocked, reproachful eyes over the rim of the glass!"

It was not easy then (nor many times subsequently) for Mr. Smith to keep from asking Mellicent the utterly absurd question of how many five-pound boxes of candy she supposed one hundred thousand dollars would buy. But he did keep from it—by heroic self-sacrifice and the comforting recollection that she would know some day, if she cared to take the trouble to reckon it up.

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In Mellicent's love affair with young Pennock Mr. Smith was enormously interested. Not that he regarded it as really serious, but because it appeared to bring into Mellicent's life something of the youth and gayety to which he thought she was entitled. He was almost as concerned as was Miss Maggie, therefore, when one afternoon, soon after Mrs. Jane Blaisdell's complete recovery from her "carpet tax" (as Frank Blaisdell termed his wife's recent illness), Mellicent rushed into the Duff living-room with rose-red cheeks and blazing eyes, and an explosive:—"Aunt Maggie, Aunt Maggie, can't you get mother to let me go away somewhere—anywhere, right off?"

[Illustration caption: "I CAN'T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I'VE JUST GOT TO

"Why, Mellicent! Away? And just to-morrow the Pennocks' dance?"

"But that's it—that's why I want to go," flashed Mellicent. "I don't want to be at the dance—and I don't want to be in town, and NOT at the dance."

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Mr. Smith, at his table in the corner, glanced nervously toward the door, then bent assiduously over his work, as being less conspicuous than the flight he had been tempted for a moment to essay. But even this was not to be, for the next moment, to his surprise, the girl appealed directly to him.

"Mr. Smith, please, won't YOU take me somewhere to-morrow?"

"Mellicent!" Even Miss Maggie was shocked now, and showed it.

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"I can't help it, Aunt Maggie. I've just got to be away!" Mellicent's voice was tragic.

"But, my dear, to ASK a gentleman—" reproved Miss Maggie. She came to an indeterminate pause. Mr. Smith had crossed the room and dropped into a chair near them.

"See here, little girl, suppose you tell us just what is behind—all this," he began gently.

Mellicent shook her head stubbornly.