Mabel Brewster may live to be a very old woman but she will never like to look back at that one night in her life. She could not eat anything; she could not read, although a nice trashy novel invited her. She could not sleep. And it was well.

Mabel had come to a place where she was forced to balance her books. She had been so anxious to be a business woman, a professional woman, a Free Soul, that she had not looked once on the debit side of the page. And sooner or later we all must do this.

She was very, very unhappy, embarrassed and ashamed; but her mind was made up. All she longed for was light—the coming of day so that she could carry out the plans she had formulated.

She sat thinking, thinking until ten o'clock, then with a queer little smile as she noticed the time, she went to the door with caution and turned the key, and slowly, very slowly opened the door.

It was true. On the cramped, uncomfortable settee, curled up asleep, was Frank. Mabel stared. So it was true—her brother—just as they had said! For one wild moment her resolves vanished. She felt an overpowering impulse to run away, to disappear so the dear people whom she had utterly failed would never again see her face. But it vanished as quickly as it had come.

She stepped to Frank's side and laid her hand gently on his shoulder. Instantly his arm shot out in a sweeping blow and he leaped to his feet. The doubled fist missed Mabel by a bare fraction.

"Don't hit me, dear," she said gently. "Come inside and go to bed properly. You see I know all about you at last. I can't thank you for being so good to me, but I am going to be a better sister to you, Frank."

Frank, looking rather sheepish at being caught, followed his sister into the room. He looked about it curiously. He had never been through the apartment, wishing to show by his absence that he disapproved of the whole thing. Now, however, he was embarrassed and needed a subject for conversation.

"It is not bad here," he said gruffly.

"I think it is perfectly horrid!" said Mabel. "If you and mother will let me, I am coming home tomorrow."

"To stay?" asked Frank incredulously.

"To stay forever and ever!" said Mabel. "It will take me that long to show you what a goose I have been, and how I mean to be different. Oh, Frank, there is no such thing as a person living all for herself. Never! I wonder if there was ever such a silly, conceited, selfish person in the world before."

"Well, my goodness, Mabe, I wouldn't knock myself like that," said Frank uncomfortably. "If that's the way you feel, why, it's all right. I know mother will be tickled to death to have you home again. She feels pretty bad about your being away. She is lonesome as the dickens for you. But she is so sweet she wouldn't let you know it."

Mabel burst into tears.

"Oh, I have been lonesome too!" she cried. "I have been perfectly miserable! Oh, Frank, I don't see what ailed me!"

"Why not pick up some of your things and go home tonight?" suggested Frank hopefully.

"No," she said. "If I am going to turn over a new leaf I will have a good many things to do tomorrow. Oh dear, it is going to be perfectly awful, but I deserve it. We had better go to bed now, Frank. There is a bed all made up in the little room next to mine. Oh, how scared I used to be here all alone!"

"I wouldn't bother to think about it," said Frank. "I bet we will have a good time after this, Sissy. We will understand each other better. And I have learned a lesson myself; and that is to stick by my mother just as close as ever I can."

"Here, too!" said Mabel. "Oh, I wish it was morning! I wish tomorrow was all over!"

"Can I help?" asked Frank, as he stooped to unlace his shoes.

"No, thank you," said Mabel grimly. "I started this thing, and I am going to finish it."

"Well, good-night then," said Frank, giving his sister a hearty hug and kiss, which Mabel returned joyfully. The days when she had turned a cold cheek to her brother or had given him a chilly peck were past forever.

Next morning, Mabel, instead of wadding her nice hair up in buns, braided it neatly in her old fashion, put on her neatest and most girlish dress, and went down to the Times-Leader office. All the reporters had received their assignments and had gone out. The City Editor sat at his desk inside the magic railing that Mabel had planned to pass. She caught her breath, then walked up and rested her hands on the rail. When he saw her the Editor rose. He felt as though he wanted to look as tall as he felt, when he said what he intended to say to this pert young person.

"Well, young lady," he commenced, but Mabel, nodding her head, interrupted him.

"Yes, sir, I know just what you are going to say," she said, fixing her eyes bravely on his. "I never meant to eavesdrop, but I was here in the cloak-room last evening when you said what you did to Miss Gere. About me, I mean, and my selfishness, and my bad poetry and all of everything. And it is all true. I am glad I heard you. It is perfectly true. But I have been finding out since I came in here that I don't amount to anything. And I have been so bad to my mother that perhaps she won't want me to come home at all. I am sorry you have had to bother with me, and of course I don't deserve any wages. I just wanted you to know that I am going to go home and beg my mother to forgive me, and if she will let me come back, I am going to try to show her that it did pay to let me make this experiment after all."

Mabel choked, but before the dumbfounded Editor could sit down nearer Mabel's level and feel as small as he wanted to feel, she went on:

"I think mother will let me try again. She is that sort. And you needn't be afraid; I will truly, truly be a good girl, and I'm so sorry." She turned and bolted for the door and collided violently with Jesse, who had entered just behind her with a letter for the Editor. Mabel righted herself and gave the boy a jerky little nod.

"You heard what I said, didn't you?" she asked. "Well, I mean it! And I am sorry I was horrid to you. It was just because I was a conceited little prig, and you needn't speak to me again ever!"

She dodged around the boy and was out of sight.

"Cummere!" roared the City Editor all in one word, but Mabel ran breathlessly down the dusty stairs toward the street. She simply could not stay up there and wait for Miss Gere. She would write her a letter or go to her house. Just as she reached the bottom of the last flight she heard someone pounding down four steps at a time. It was Jesse, and when he reached her, he laid a desperate clutch on her sleeve.

"Hey, you've got to listen!" he panted. "Gosh, I won't let you go off without telling you I think you have got more grit than any girl I ever saw. No matter what you ever did to me, I'm strong for you now all right. Don't you forget that! And I want to shake hands with you if you don't mind."

He put out a grimy paw and pumped Mabel's hand vigorously up and down.

Mabel found herself unable to speak. She dragged her hand away and rushed out of the building, tears blinding her eyes but a strange warm feeling in her heart. She walked up the street thinking of Jesse; Jesse who had been so utterly scorned.

How splendid he seemed now! How generous and friendly and loyal! And when you really looked at him, he was not homely. He had freckles, of course, and his nose was snub, and his hair seemed to be all cowlicks: but the teeth that his wide grin disclosed were dazzling white, his blue eyes simply crackled they were so full of twinkles, and his hand, despite the grime, was warm and friendly. Mabel felt her heart lift a little. It looked as though she had one friend after all.

Unfortunately she had not understood the roar sent after her by the Editor. It was a pity, because that Editor was quite her ideal of everything great, and it would have comforted her to know that, as she scurried up Third Street, he was sitting hunched up in his chair, listening to Jesse's vigorous words as he told of the look on Mabel's face and her tear-filled eyes as she ran away from him. It would have comforted Mabel indeed if some kind fairy had whispered to her that she was one day to be on terms of the greatest friendliness with that same Editor, with the privilege of entering his magic railing any time she liked. But no such thought came to comfort her and she rushed on, her feet trying to keep pace with her eagerness to reach her mother.

What she said to that dear mother, what tears they shed together, and what plans they made for a new and happy life together, any girl who has made a mistake and has owned up everything in the safe circle of her mother's arms will easily guess.

A couple of hours later Mabel and Frank were at the miserable apartment cleaning up and packing Mabel's things. Mabel was happy. She was going home. She was going to be just a real girl and a good Scout, and she felt as though she wanted to prance for joy. There was a Scout meeting that night and it was up to her to attend and make her report And so greatly had her point of view changed and so high had her courage grown that she did not mind one bit.

It did seem as though there had never been as good a supper as that happy family sat down to enjoy. Oh, what a good supper it was! After the chilly canned meats, and olives and delicatessen cakes that Mabel had been subsisting on, to have fluffy hot biscuit, flaky potatoes, tender asparagus, and perfectly broiled beefsteak—Mabel nearly cried with happiness. They all helped to get it, and Frank sang at the top of his voice while he set the table.

As soon as supper was over and the dishes stacked in the kitchen, Mrs. Brewster made Mabel get on her Scout uniform, and Frank walked over to the Hortons with her.

The girls were all glad to see Mabel, and there was a sort of stir of excitement as they one and all remembered that on her return to the Scout meetings Mabel was to tell them all about her experiences in the big world of labor.

Mabel was so anxious to get her story over with that she could scarcely wait for the business part of the meeting to be finished. The Captain was anxious, too. As she had had no chance to see Mabel before the meeting opened, she could not guess what Mabel intended to say, although she had an inkling that the experiment had turned out exactly as she had hoped it would.

When Mabel's chance finally came, when the Captain had given her permission to speak, and she rose from her chair and faced the roomful of girls, she found that her heart was beating heavily and her breath coming fast. But she did not hesitate.

"I reckon the first thing to tell you about my experiment in living for myself alone is that it will not work. I don't believe that anyone in the world can actually live as selfishly as I tried to. A girl needs her mother every minute, and she needs whatever else she has in the line of a family.

"Well, to begin at the beginning, I had been reading a lot of silly novels, and every time I could I went to see a movie about elopements and girls who were misunderstood by their families. You see I am going to make this a real honest confession instead of just a report. If I just said that I failed, why, some of you perhaps would think you could do better than I did, and try it for yourselves. But you needn't waste your time. Only I don't believe any other Girl Scout would ever be as silly as I have been.

"Well, to begin again, I went over to an apartment that a friend of ours was leaving vacant, and there I stayed all alone. Some of you girls came to see me, but you didn't act as though you were very crazy over it and I finally learned why. Of course I know how to cook quite a few things but it was not much fun trying to fix meals for just one, and I remembered all the time how I used to grumble at home because I had to get things for Frank once in awhile. And all the while I was there in that apartment my dear brother was sleeping on a mean little settee in the hall because he was afraid I would be scared or sick." Mabel paused, and her eyes filled with tears. Then she continued:

"Mother arranged for me to take a position under Miss Gere, the Society Editor of the Times-Leader, I thought I was going to do wonders but I found that Miss Gere had to rewrite almost everything I turned in, and no one wanted to be interviewed by a school-girl, anyway. There was an awfully nice boy in the office. I thought I was a great deal better than he was, and I snubbed him awfully, and come to find out, he is a great friend of Frank's and I am dreadfully ashamed of the way I treated him. Everything went from bad to worse. I finally got so I didn't have anything for meals but cooked stuff from the delicatessens, and at that I spent everything I made. I just bought me one hat. It costs awfully to live and buy food. I don't see how grown people do it. Oh, well, I will skip a lot of details. But I was sick as I could be of my experiment, and wished myself back home a million times a day; but I was too stubborn to give in. Besides, I still thought I was a little wonder at writing. But yesterday! I was in the cloak-room, and overheard the Editor talking to Miss Gere, and oh, girls, he said the most awful things about me and the way I worked, and the wretched stuff I wrote, and oh, everything! What he thought of me for my disloyalty to my mother, trying to get out and shirk my duty just when she needs me, and everything! I don't believe he left out anything! And girls, it is all true. Every bit!

"Well, he and Miss Gere went out, and I went home and sat down and thought about everything. I never felt so small. And however small I felt, I knew it was my really true size. The size I belong. About an inch high.

"And presently I looked into the hall, and there was Frank all crunched up on the settee. I woke him up and asked him to forgive me, and I felt a little better.

"Well, this morning I went down to see the Editor, and before he had a chance to tell me what he thought of me, I hurried up and told him what I thought of myself. He looked sort of surprised. But before he could say anything, I dashed out. And when I was almost to the door downstairs, down came that boy. He had heard everything and he came all the way down to say he thought I was brave, and to shake hands with me. It made me feel a little better.

"I 'most ran all the way home, and I felt lonelier and littler all the way, and when I opened the door and saw my mother I just fell on her. I forgot I was going to say that my experiment had failed and that I wanted to come home. I forgot everything I had planned. When I saw how sweet she looked and how motherly, I just cried and cried, and all I said at all was, 'Oh, mother, am I your little girl? Am I your little girl for always?' And all she said was, 'Always and always and always, my darling!'"

Mabel's voice trailed off to a husky whisper. Her eyes were downcast as she twisted a button on her blouse, and she did not see that half the eyes were wet. But they were friendly eyes. Not a girl there but liked Mabel a thousand times better for her brave and outright confession.

"That is all," said Mabel after a pause. "Mother says it is wiped out and all past, like a fever, but I shall not forget it. I don't want to forget it. And I want you, every one of you, to come right out and tell me if you ever see me acting conceited or snobbish or silly, because I will not go back and be the old Mabel."

"Well, Mabel, you are a brick!" said Jane, springing up. "I know we are going to be the best of friends in the world. I didn't like the old Mabel a bit either!"

"I don't think there was any old Mabel," said the Captain quietly. "It was always this Mabel, sensible and true, but mistaken and sadly on the wrong track. And I am so proud, Mabel, to see how you have profited by this lesson."

"Thank you very much," said Mabel: then added grimly, "But new Mabel or old, she deserved it all. And I hope I never have to see that Editor again."

But she did.