Having met Colonel Maslin in the hotel lobby, Mabel found herself riding home in the beautiful Maslin limousine. She sat exactly in the center of the softly cushioned seat and stared haughtily at the passersby. She inclined her head a trifle in condescending acknowledgment of the traffic police who waved them on as they turned from Broadway into Third Street. Mabel was sorry that he did not seem to notice her. He lived three doors from Mabel on the side street and it seemed a pity not to impress him, especially as he was forever bringing home the Brewster dog when he ran away without his tag.

But luck was with Mabel when the big car rolled noiselessly up to the curb before her home, for her mother was standing at the window, and her brother and three other boys were having a last confab before separating for the night. Mabel crossed the sidewalk and went up the steps in her most stately manner. She did not notice the boys at all.

"Well," said her mother as she entered the house, "did you get a ride home? How do you like the Maslin girl?

"She is a rare soul," said Mabel. Then descending to earth, "I wish you could see the rooms they live in. You never did see such lovely things. And she has a maid, and a Chinese house-servant, and her father is a perfect dear and sent us up a big box of candy."

"A rare soul, is she?" said Mrs. Brewster. "How do you mean?"

"Oh, I can't explain," said Mabel. "She is so understanding, and we seemed to think and feel just alike on so many subjects. I expect to see a great deal of her. We have so much in common."

"Does she object to dusting and making beds and things of that sort?" asked Mrs. Brewster in a mild tone.

"I don't know," said Mabel, flushing.

"Ummm," said Mrs. Brewster. To Mabel the smile was maddening,—infuriating.

"I don't see why you take it like that," she burst out harshly. "Just because I have a mind above the average and want to live my own life and set my soul free! I am reading every little while about some girl who does it. But I never get a chance. Nothing for me but school and practice and that old dusting and helping around the house!"

Mrs. Brewster sat down and looked quizzically at her excited elder child. She was in no hurry to break the silence, while Mabel stared out of the window and drummed on the pane with nervous finger tips. Finally she said gently, "Just what do you think you would like to do?"

"Oh, I want to break away, and have a chance to expand! I feel choked the way things go now. I read about one girl about my age who left home and took an apartment and lived her own life. It was wonderful. She went to work too, and made lots and lots of money."

"Lucky girl," said Mrs. Brewster. "What a help she must have been to her family! Oh, I forgot; the trick was that she didn't help her family at all, did she? Was she a rare soul too?"

Mabel registered what she fondly hoped was a look of scorn. She did not speak, and after a moment Mrs. Brewster continued:

"What was her chosen field of endeavor? In other words, what job did she get?"

"She became a newspaper woman," said Mabel.

"But what did she do in the meantime? What did she do while she was learning to do newspaper work? Didn't you say she was a girl about your age?"

Mabel answered patiently.

"She became a newspaper writer at once," she said. "Don't you see, mamma, that is just the point? She went away from all the worries of her own home, where she never had time to think things out for herself, and it gave her a chance to expand. While she was at home her time was so broken."

"I see," said Mrs. Brewster. "I suppose her cruel parents expected her to dust and wash dishes and mend her clothes and practice, and all that. It was a great pity. I suppose there are a great many parents like that—so thoughtless."

"Indeed there are!" said Mabel with feeling. For the moment, hearing her mother agree with her, she forgot to whom she was talking. "If mothers and fathers only could understand that girls want to be free, that they want to expand and be themselves, everything would be different."

"I don't doubt it at all," said Mrs. Brewster. She left the room and Mabel continued the train of pleasant thought. She made no move to help about supper, and Mrs. Brewster did not call her. Remembering that the girl she had read about was accustomed to sit at her piano and compose most beautiful melodies whenever she was disturbed or wanted to soothe herself, Mabel went to the piano and, putting a firm foot on the forbidden loud pedal, broke into what she fondly told herself were crashing chords palpitating with the suppressed passion of her breaking heart. The sounds thrilled her, and she continued until interrupted by a roar from Frank who was doing his algebra at the kitchen table.

"Aw, Mabe, have a heart and quit that noise, will you?" he begged.

His rudeness broke the spell. Mabel rose and started to sweep haughtily toward the stairs. She would retire to the sanctuary of her own room and brood! But before she reached the door she heard her mother call, "Supper is ready!"

Mabel did not hesitate. She remembered the Parker House rolls and hurried into the dining-room. The rolls were there, and it was well worth postponing a "brood" for them. Mrs. Brewster was unusually silent and Frank watched her anxiously until, catching her eye, she nodded and flashed a quick look toward her abstracted daughter. At the close of the meal Mabel said with what sounded to Frank perilously like kindly meant condescension, "That was a delicious little supper, mamma," and receiving a meek but fervent, "Thank you so much, dear," from her mother Mabel went straightway to her own room and closed the door between herself and her unappreciative family.

The sound of that door was a signal for Frank to explode.

But Mrs. Brewster laid a soft hand over his rebellious mouth.

"Softly, softly, dear!" she begged. "I want you to be as patient as you can. If you were on the wrong path somehow or other, you would be glad to be turned back where there was safer going, wouldn't you? Well, Mabel must work this thing out for her own good. You and I cannot tell how she will come out of it, because after all her soul is her own, and she knows it better than we do. But we have faith in her, sonny dear, don't forget that, and we believe she is a dear daughter and sister, who really loves us with all her heart."

"Yah, she acts it!" scoffed Frank, the unbeliever.

"Give her time, dear," said Mrs. Brewster. "Please be patient. I am going to do some telephoning now, and if you hurry with your algebra and finish that history lesson, we will go to the movies. There is a good play at the Strand tonight."

"I can do that all right," said Frank, and after his mother had gone to the telephone he rushed the dishes out into the kitchen, stacked them neatly, and was buried in his book when his mother returned, a look of amusement rather mixed with worry on her pleasant, wholesome face.

The result of the telephone talk was an astounding offer from Mrs. Brewster to meet Mabel when that young lady left school next day. Mrs. Brewster was waiting for her daughter at the door of the High School, and as they started slowly down the street, Mrs. Brewster said, "You know the girl you were telling me about last night? I mean the one who broke away and lived by herself and freed her soul and all that?"

Mabel nodded. Was her mother going to lecture her?

"I don't want to stand in your light, Mabel, and some day suffer all kinds of remorse when I remember that I was the one who held you back just because I am old-fashioned and happen to think that home is the place for a young girl to grow up in, a place where she can have her mother's care and guidance and all that. No, I just can't do it! I want to give you a good start if you still feel that you want to take it. Something came up today that looked exactly like what you wanted, and I snatched at the chance. At least until you decide. Of course I could not decide for you."

"What is it?" asked Mabel cautiously.

"It seems quite wonderful," said Mrs. Brewster. "You know that ducky little apartment the Kents have right under Grandmother Brewster's? They are going away for the next six months, and want someone to live there and take care of it."

"And we are going to live there?" cried Mabel delightedly. "Oh, I am so glad! I am so sick of our house, it is so out of date, mamma, and on such a side street! What will you do—shut it up or rent it?"

"Don't go so fast, Mabel. You say yourself you can't expand your soul when Frank and I are around. I should think not! We will live just where we are, and if you like you can have the flat all to yourself. I was there this morning. There is the sweetest kitchenette, with everything in it, and the dearest living-room and dining-room combined and, Mabel, wait until you see the bed-room! It will be a lot to keep clean. I certainly was lucky this morning. Just as I was coming home I met Marian Gere, who does society for the Times-Leader, and she is looking for an assistant, and simply snapped at the chance of having your help. I said you could help her after school hours until the end of this term, and after that you could give all your time, because I did not feel that I could ask any girl to stay in school who was as talented as you feel you are. And she said I was very sensible to let you try your wings. Try your wings. Don't you think that a sweet expression? I remembered it because I thought perhaps you could use it in your writing some time." Mrs. Brewster paused for breath.

Mabel was looking rather wild-eyed. Things seemed to be happening rather rapidly. Was it possible that all her cherished dreams were to be realized, and at once?

Her mother had the key to the little playhouse apartment, the owner having departed, and Mabel looked it over and over with actual cold chills of delight coursing down her spine.

"I wouldn't tell Grandmother Brewster for a while about being here," suggested Mrs. Brewster. "She might think you needed looking after," and Mabel agreed.

"When will you come over?"

"Oh, today!" cried Mabel. "And I think I will go down right now and see Miss Gere."

"Very well, and I will go home and pack a few things for you. I think I would just take a hand-bag now, and later you will know exactly what you will need. There is not much closet space in the apartment. And of course Frank and I will hope to see you occasionally. But we will understand if you don't come home often, because you will be working pretty hard to earn your living, even with such a good start. It is lucky that you can get this lovely place to live in rent free. Later I suppose you will not care what you have to pay, but now it will be a help. And you will find that groceries are pretty high."

Mrs. Brewster nodded a gay good-bye as the car approached, and left Mabel walking down Third Street on her way to the Times-Leader. A few blocks on her way she overtook Jane and Estella arm in arm as usual. Mabel gave her braid a flirt and unconsciously puffed out her chest.

"Where away, Mabel?" chirruped little Estella, twinkling. In a rush of words Mabel told her tale while the girls listened in speechless amazement.

"You don't mean to say that you have really left home?" demanded Estella. There was no chirp in her voice now, no twinkle in her face. She looked absolutely shocked.

"I leave tonight," said Mabel, "soon as I settle my salary with Miss Gere. I am wild to be free! It is going to be wonderful, perfectly wonderful! I expect to write something grand. Just think, no one to disturb me; no housework, no practicing! Oh, how my mind will soar!"

"Are you going to keep a maid?" asked Jane feebly. "You said no housework."

"Well, it won't be like the housework at home," declared Mabel. "That is the dustiest old place! It won't take me a minute to put everything in order at my apartment."

"But your mother!" almost wailed Estella. "How can you leave your mother? I can't bear to leave mine for all day even."

"Mothers are different," said Mabel sadly. "Mamma is sweet, of course, but she does not understand me. We are better apart; I feel it."

"Well, of all things!" said Jane slowly. "I am glad my soul doesn't have to have things done for it. I don't remember much of the time that I have one, and you couldn't hire me to leave home."

"You don't understand," said Mabel loftily. "One must do what seems right to one's own self. I am doing that, and I shall be rewarded. Come and see me sometimes, girls. I shall be very busy, but never too busy to receive my old Girl Scout friends."

She nodded, and struck into a quicker pace which carried her ahead of the two girls.

"Well, I think that is perfectly awful, don't you, Jane?" demanded little Estella, looking at the broad, retreating back.

"Simply dreadful!" murmured Jane, shocked and wondering.

"What do you suppose has got into Mabel? Do you suppose it is possible that her mother is actually letting her do it, or is she running away or something awful?"

"Oh, Jane, do you remember what the Captain told her to do at the last meeting? Oh, oh, what will the Captain say when she hears about this? She will feel awfully. Why, she never, never meant Mabel to actually leave her mother and go off and do dreadful things! I don't see how Mabel can bear it! And it will make our little Captain feel awfully!"

"Says she is going to live all alone, and work on the newspaper. Just like being an orphan. Get her own meals and everything. I couldn't stand it," said Jane.

They stared after the distant figure. They did not approve.

"But, of course," said Estella suddenly, "we must not be too hard on Mabel. You know she writes real poetry. Perhaps that is what ails her. We mustn't forget that."

"No," said Jane pityingly, "we mustn't forget that."