Contrary Mary

"You don't mean that--you can't mean it?"

"Why not?"

"Because you're a man! Oh, I should have been the man of our

family--and Barry and Constance should have been the girls." Her eyes

blazed.

"You think then, as I heard you say the other night on the stairs, that

the world is ours; yet we men let it stand still."

Her head went up. "Yes. Perhaps you do have to fight for what you

get. But I'd rather die fighting than smothered."

He laughed a good boyish laugh. "Does Barry know that you feel that

way?"

"I'm afraid," penitently, "that I make him feel it, sometimes. And he

doesn't know that it is because I care so much. That it is because I

want him to be like--father."

He smiled into her misty eyes. "Perhaps if you weren't so militant--in

your methods----"

"Oh, that's the trouble with Barry. Everybody's too good to him. And

when I try to counteract it, Barry says that I nag. But he doesn't

understand."

Her voice broke, and by some subtle intuition he was aware that her

burden was heavier than she was willing to admit.

She stood up and held out her hand. "Thank you so much--for letting me

talk to you."

He took her hand and stood looking down at her.

"Will you remember that always--when you need to talk things out--that

the Tower Room--is waiting?"

And now there were steps dancing up the stairs, and Barry whirled in

with Little-Lovely Leila.

"Mary," he said, "we are ready to light the tree, and Aunt Frances is

having fits because you aren't down. You know she always has fits when

things are delayed. Poole, you are a selfish hermit to stay off up

here with a tree of your own."

Roger, who had stepped forward to speak to Leila, shook his head. "I

don't deserve to be invited. And you're all too good to me."

"Oh, but we're not," Leila spoke in her pretty childish way; "we'd love

to have you down. Everybody's just crazy about you, Mr. Poole."

They shouted at that.

"Leila," Barry demanded, "are you crazy about him? Tell me now and get

the agony over."

Leila, tilting herself on her pink slipper toes almost crowed with

delight at his teasing: "I said, everybody----"

Barry advanced to where she stood in the doorway.

"Leila Dick," he announced, "you're under the mistletoe, and you can't

escape, and I'm going to kiss you. It's my ancient and hereditary

privilege--isn't it, Poole? It's my ancient and hereditary privilege,"

he repeated, and now he was bending over her.