“No doubt,” Ethel assented dryly. “All men do. They don’t have to bear them, nor wash diapers, nor stay up all night when they have colic, nor get sloppy and old and wearied with caring for them.”

“Don’t, Ethel.” Barbara spoke quietly. “You’re making fun of the most wonderful thing in life.”

“Forgive me.” Ethel spoke quickly. “I know how you feel. And I think you’re damn lucky. Bob is a prince and I know you’ll be happy. That’s not what I meant. You do admit that marriage is going to tie you down and change you.”

“Perhaps. But I want to be tied down,” Barbara cried passionately.

“All right. Marry him. I’m not trying to talk you out of that. But have your one grand fling at life for the good of your immortal soul while yet there’s time. You’ve never in your life busted loose... given free rein to your natural impulses with no thought of consequences, have you?” Ethel looked at Barbara shrewdly.

“Why... no. Perhaps not.” Barbara moved uneasily.

“There you are. That’s what I mean.” Ethel pressed her advantage relentlessly. “You deserve that. Even more important... your future deserves it.”

“My future? What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. Bob is just like you. Neither of you know what it’s all about. You two marrying will be like a couple of babes in the wood. I bet you’ve never... really necked, have you?” Ethel stared at her keenly.

“No!” Barbara’s face was flushed. “I think necking’s cheap and common.”

“Not even with Robert?”

“No. Robert’s not that sort.”

“My God!” Ethel spoke wonderingly. “Just what sort of a saint is Robert?”

“Well, he certainly doesn’t think of that sort of thing in connection with love.”

“See here.” Ethel faced her squarely. “Just what sort of thing does he think of? When he kisses you, for instance?”

“Why he... he’s very tender and sweet always.”

“And you mean to say that he never thinks of passion... of your body?”

“Of course not!” Barbara spoke indignantly.

“And you? You don’t either?” Ethel would not be denied.

“No. That is I... I try not to.” Barbara’s face flamed scarlet and she turned away from Ethel’s searching eyes.

“You poor kid.” Ethel’s arm went about her wonderingly. “Why not? Why shouldn’t you? Love isn’t to be denied. Love should be glorious; hurting, and stabbing, and devouring! Gee, Babs. You’re in a tougher spot than I thought. You’re so damned repressed that it’s pitiful.”

“I... I...” Barbara started to sob.

“See here.” Ethel turned her gently to look into her face. “Let me get this straight. You’re young and passionate, and you love Bob? You have all the natural desires of a girl, but you’ve kept them submerged because you think they’re shameful? That correct?”

“Yes.” Barbara nodded her head. “I get frightened sometimes when I’m with Bob. Queer, shameful thoughts seem to take possession of my mind and I can’t shake them off.”

“They’re not queer or shameful.” Ethel shook her impatiently. “You need to be psychoanalyzed. And Bob needs some plain words spoken to him. Both of you need to wake up and learn the facts of life.”

“Oh I... I sometimes think I’ll go mad.” Barbara smiled. A distorted and painful smile.

“You need to rid yourself of a whole pack of inhibitions,” Ethel told her decidedly. “When I first started urging you to visit me for Mardi Gras I didn’t know just how much you needed it.”

“Do you really think that would help?”

“Of course. Exactly the course of treatment you need. Get away from the farm and this sticky environment. Be yourself! That’s the whole secret of Mardi Gras. Every person ought to do it at least once a year. Meet some new people and find out what life really means. Then you can come back and marry Robert with memories to carry in a secret place that’ll tide you over a lot of rough spots.”

“Almost... you convince me.”

“Of course you’re convinced. This one gesture will mean more to you than all the years you’ve stagnated here. You’ll come back with something to gloriously color your entire future. I mean it, Babs.” Ethel spoke solemnly. “We all wear masks during the Mardi Gras. The world looks different from behind a mask. You’ll drop all your accumulated fears, and for once in your life you’ll be guided by the voice of impulse instead of the bonds of reason. You need this experience.”

“Perhaps I do.” Barbara spoke slowly. Her face was alight and her hands clutched nervously. Before her eyes was a vista of a city at play. She, a masked member of a pleasure-mad half million. Her breath came faster.

Barbara had never played. Her father and mother loved her, but they did not approve of play. They had never played. All her life she had been taught that light laughter was wicked, and joy a part of the devil’s temptation.

Then she thought sadly of Robert. He, too, needed a new experience. Perhaps as much as she. For Robert had known nothing but toil all his life. They had grown up together on adjoining farms, had been sweethearts since grammar-school days. Then Robert had worked his way through agricultural college, grimly intent on doing better with the farm than his father had done. Mr. Sutler had died two years previously, leaving Robert an orphan. Since then he had drudged tirelessly to prepare a place for Barbara.

Robert’s dear face came between her and the vision of a kaleidoscopic Mardis Gras festival. She turned to Ethel impulsively.

“If I could only persuade Bob to go with me,” she tried. “Wouldn’t it be too wonderful for words if he’d go too, so we could see it all together?”

“Hmmm. Let’s see...” Ethel considered swiftly. Robert would upset many of her plans for Barbara if he tagged along. Ethel conceded that engagements might be all right, but a farmer fiancé would certainly be in the way during Mardi Gras.

It might be awkward.

Barbara didn’t notice her hesitation. “That’s the answer,” she bubbled happily. “I know Bob would object if I wanted to go alone. But he can’t say anything if I ask him to go along to take care of me. Can he?”

“No. I suppose not.” Ethel’s mind worked frantically as she sought for some reasonable excuse to leave Robert at home.

“I’m afraid... you see, I want you to visit me,” she stammered, “and I just don’t think we’d have room to put Bob up too.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Barbara assured her. “He can stay at a hotel. I think that would really be more proper anyway,” she added primly.

“Yes,” Ethel agreed. “I suppose it would be more proper.” She tried to hide her scorn. Barbara’s ideas of propriety were so quaint. “But it’s terribly hard to find a room at a hotel,” she said swiftly. “Everything’s reserved during Mardi Gras.”

“I’m sure Bob could find a room somewhere,” Barbara said serenely.

“But... but what about his Cousin Harriet?” Ethel asked desperately. “She’d be sure to want to tag along too.”

“Cousin Hattie?” Barbara laughed delightedly. “She wouldn’t go for a million dollars,” she assured Ethel. “She’d blush for weeks at the very thought of going to Mardi Gras.”

“She sticks right by Robert’s side every time I see him,” Ethel said venomously. “It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she insisted on going if he goes.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t,” Barbara said gayly. “Though I will ask her. Everything you’ve said about my needing Mardi Gras applies about a hundred times more to Hattie. She must be forty, and I don’t think she’s laughed during the last twenty years.”

“She’d want to reform New Orleans,” Ethel said. “I bet she’d die of sheer fright if some masked man dragged her into a dance.”

“Well, I’m going to ask Bob,” Barbara said resolutely. “And he can bring Cousin Hattie if he wants to. I shan’t let her spoil my fun.”

“You’ll regret it,” Ethel told her pessimistically. She wanted to say more to discourage Barbara, but she didn’t dare. She had just been won over to consider the visit at all. A wrong move now would spoil everything.

But Robert would spoil it too, she thought angrily. She had to choke back a laugh as she envisioned Robert and his Cousin Harriet trying to get into the spirit of Mardi Gras. It just wouldn’t do.

“Perhaps Robert won’t go,” Ethel said slowly. “He’ll probably consider it all the sheerest nonsense, and refuse to have any part in it.”

“Oh no. He won’t refuse me. I’ll make him see how much it means to both of us. And this is just the best season for a little vacation from the farm. I know he’ll go if I ask him.”

“All right, Babs. You know best.” Ethel spoke resignedly.

“Come on.” Barbara jumped up and tugged at Ethel’s arm. “I’ll go ask mom while I’m all keyed up about it. She’ll think I’m insane... but she’ll have to let me go... and dad will if she does.”

“All right.” Ethel arose and followed her uncertainly from the room. She had a funny feeling that things wouldn’t work out as smoothly as Barbara buoyantly predicted. But she kept this thought strictly to herself as Barbara preceded her to the cool living room where Mrs. Dorn was engaged with some mending.

Chapter Two

“Oh mom!” Barbara called gayly. Then she hesitated in the doorway and Ethel saw her shoulders straighten a trifle. “Oh! I didn’t know you were here, Cousin Hattie.”

“Come in, dear.” Mrs. Dorn’s voice was plaintively agreeable. “What have you two girls been doing with yourselves?” she asked placidly as Barbara caught Ethel’s hand to squeeze it quickly before entering the room.

“We’ve been making plans.” Her voice was more decided and less gay than it had been before she discovered Hattie.