She and Ethel entered to be greeted sternly by Cousin Hattie. Hattie was always stern. She had Principles... and Morals. A tall, gaunt woman, with thin hands and a faintly yellowish complexion. She wore a severe black dress which buttoned up the front tightly to her neck.

She had kept house for Robert and his father since Mrs. Sutler had died in Robert’s infancy. She thought it her Duty. And her feeling of Duty had held her at the farm to care for Robert when his father died. She had never married... because of her feeling of Duty... as she often sternly boasted.

Barbara had always been just a tiny bit afraid of Hattie. Her eyes were cold, and she was not one to mince words when her sense of Duty called upon her to point out the Path of Righteousness to those who did not conform to her narrow ideals.

There had been a growing feeling of antagonism between Barbara and Hattie since Robert had announced his engagement to her. Barbara knew that Hattie thought she was too frivolous to make Robert a good wife. She knew this because Hattie had told her so... lengthily and with no quibbling.

Barbara always tried to be pleasant to her, though it was sometimes quite a strain to do so.

“How are you this afternoon, Cousin Hattie?” she asked as she and Ethel found seats on the old lounge on the other side of the room.

“As well as may be, I suppose.” Hattie sniffed... three times in rapid succession. She always sniffed three times when anyone inquired about her health.

“That’s nice... Robert didn’t come with you, did he?” Barbara strove to keep the conversation going while her mother’s needle flashed industriously and Ethel moved restlessly.

“Of course not!” Hattie snapped. Her nose wriggled dolefully. “Though he’ll be along in a minute, I’ll be bound,” she went on. “I often tell him I don’t know what’ll happen to his dear father’s farm, what with him traipsing over here to make lovesick eyes at you with every turn of the clock.” She sniffed again... very audibly.

“I don’t think Bob neglects the farm for me.” Barbara smiled at her. She was determined to pay no heed to Hattie.

“Mom,” she said, turning to her mother. “I want to ask you something.”

“Very well, dear.” Mrs. Dorn did not look up from her sewing.

“Ethel wants me to visit her next Sunday.” Barbara kept her eyes resolutely turned from Hattie’s face. “She’s going home tomorrow, and she’s just been begging me to come in Sunday to stay for a few days. Would you mind?” She bent forward eagerly, her hands clasped and her body tensed.

“So that’s what you two’ve been cooking up?”

“Uh-huh.” Barbara laughed happily. Her mother’s voice had been indulgent. That meant she would let her go. She felt Hattie’s glance of stern disapproval, but she would not look at her. “Do you mind, mom?” she asked breathlessly.

“Well, now, I... I’m sure I don’t know,” Mrs. Dorn said slowly. She bent over her sewing, and her face puckered as she bit a thread off.

“Please, Mrs. Dorn.” Ethel spoke quickly. “I’ve told mother and dad so much about Babs that they’re just dying to know her. Mother insisted that I bring her back with me.”

“That’s very nice I’m sure,” Mrs. Dorn said placidly.

“Then I can go, mom?”

“Well now, we’ll have to see. Could you get ready by Sunday?”

“Humph.” Hattie was distinctly disapproving. “If you ask me, I’d have something to say.”

“But no one has asked you, Hattie.” Mrs. Dorn spoke mildly, still bent over her sewing.

“Folks will turn up their noses at good advice... and so much the worse for them,” Hattie commented acidly.

“Wouldn’t you rather wait till a little later? Maybe you could have a new dress or so if it wasn’t so sudden.” Mrs. Dorn smilingly ignored Hattie.

“But we’ve got it all planned,” Ethel insisted anxiously. “I do so want her to come Sunday.”

“How long would you plan on staying?”

“Only for a few days, mom.” Barbara arose and went to her mother’s side. “You will let me go?” she asked softly.

“Well, I... think it will be all right.” Mrs. Dorn patted her daughter’s hand. “We’ll talk it over with your father.”

“What about Robert?” Hattie broke in. “Have you told him about this wild notion of chasing all over the country? Do you think he’ll approve?”

“You can hardly call it chasing all over the country,” Barbara laughed merrily. “After all, I just want to go to New Orleans for a little visit. There’s really nothing terrible about that.”

“Humph,” Hattie sniffed. “You don’t know the wiles of the city like I do, young lady.” She pursed her lips firmly, and her face seemed to say that she had explored the dregs of sin in the gutters of countless cities.

A smile glimmered on Barbara’s lips as she turned demurely to her mother. “You’re sweet to let me go,” she said emphatically.

“That’s fine,” Ethel breathed ecstatically. “We’ll have a wonderful time, and I promise to take good care of her, Mrs. Dorn.”

“And who’ll be taking care of you?” Hattie questioned acidly.

Ethel turned to her with a sharp retort surging to her lips, but Barbara forestalled her.

“Girls don’t need as much taking care of as you seem to think,” she said quietly. “They’re much better able to take care of themselves than they were in your youth.”

“In my youth, indeed?” Hattie drew her thin shoulders up and her lips quivered.

“I just happened to think, dear,” Mrs. Dorn said as Barbara started to turn to Ethel. “Perhaps this wouldn’t be the best time to make a visit to Ethel’s. Aren’t they having some sort of celebration in New Orleans?”

“Why! Are they, Ethel?” Barbara grinned at her roguishly.

“I... I think they are. Some... some sort of celebration...” Ethel echoed faintly. Her hand went up to her face to conceal a laugh. Mardi Gras! And these people wondered if there wasn’t some sort of a celebration going on in New Orleans. It seemed fantastically unreal.

“There! That’s it! I knew there was something,” Hattie declared triumphantly. “I knew it’d come to me if I thought hard. Do you know what these giddy girls are planning?” She turned to Mrs. Dorn with a sternly pointing forefinger. “Mardi Gras,” she said ominously. “That’s what’s going on in New Orleans.”

“Why... it isn’t time for Mardi Gras, is it?” Mrs. Dorn looked up helplessly.

“Suppose it is?” Barbara defended. “Is it so terrible that I want to see a little gayety and festival?”

“A carnival of lust,” Hattie said impressively. “That’s what it is. I’ve read about it many times. A season of drinking and carousing and lecherous pleasures of the flesh. And that’s why you want to go to New Orleans! To join the godless throng that wallow in the sensual fleshpots!” Her lips smacked over the words as though she found a certain pleasure in their utterance.

“That’s a shameful thing to say.” Ethel jumped to her feet angrily. “The Mardi Gras is nothing but a period of rejoicing and good time. It’s none of the things you say about it!”

“Hmm. Perhaps not.” Hattie surveyed her coldly. “But I’m sure it’s not a time Robert would want his fiancée to be visiting in New Orleans.”

“Of course not, dear,” Mrs. Dorn put in nervously. “I didn’t realize it was Mardi Gras time. Of course we couldn’t let you attend that. A strange city... and you alone...” her words trailed off inconclusively.

“But you’ve already said I could go,” Barbara wailed.

“You got her consent by trickery,” Hattie pointed out harshly. “You concealed your true purpose.”

“You hush up!” Barbara whirled on her angrily. “You talk as though I’d fall at the first temptation. You make everything sound nasty and hateful.” She dropped to the lounge and sobbed helplessly.

“Well I never!” Hattie ejaculated. She stood up and her eyes glittered spitefully. “I’ve never been so insulted in all my born days. Robert shall hear of this.” She swept coldly from the room.

No one spoke until the front door was heard to slam.

“You shouldn’t have lost your temper,” Mrs. Dorn said evenly.

“Well, I don’t care,” Barbara sobbed. “She’s hateful and mean. It just breaks her heart to think of anyone having a good time. She’s nasty-minded and prudish! I’m glad I told her.”

“She’s Robert’s cousin, and she’s always done her duty by him,” Mrs. Dorn pointed out.

“I know. That’s all I’ve been hearing all my life,” Barbara exclaimed. “She’s always prating about her duty. She just isn’t human any more.”

“Really, Mrs. Dorn,” Ethel broke in tactfully. “Isn’t this an awful tempest in a teapot? You folks don’t really know anything about Mardi Gras. It’s truly a religious festival, you know.”

“I’ve heard differently.” Mrs. Dorn was unmoved.

“But that’s all hearsay,” Ethel insisted. “It’s just all good, clean fun. Purely amusement. Everybody lets go and laughs during Mardi Gras. It isn’t sinful to laugh.”

“Perhaps not,” Mrs. Dorn agreed. “But we’ve all heard different tales of the scandalous carryings-on.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Brinkley and Ethel seem to live through it every year,” Barbara said desperately. “And I’m sure there must be plenty more who can have a good time without doing anything wrong.”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Mrs. Dorn murmured helplessly. “We’ll wait till your father comes in, and see what he says.”

“Come on.” Ethel jumped up and led Barbara toward the door. “Let’s go outdoors for a while,” she urged.

“All right.” Barbara followed her listlessly.

“Don’t lose your nerve,” Ethel said angrily. “You knew they’d object. But they’ll let you go if you insist.”