from the station to her home.

This all seemed simple enough, but it puzzled the father, it made him
unquiet in his mind. Why all this mystery? Why--well, why a great many
things, for of course the Principal Girl had to prepare for these
absences, and, although the little fibs she told were harmless
enough--well, why? The literature teacher, who had been watching her
carefully, had her theory. She knew a lot about girls. Wasn't she once
one herself? So it was by her advice that the family doctor was taken
into the family confidence, chiefly because neither father nor mother
had the pluck to tackle the matter--they were ashamed to have their
daughter know that she had been caught in even a small deception--it
seemed so like intruding into her intimate life.

There are parents like that, you know.

The doctor had known the girl since he ushered her into the world. If
there were any one with whom she had shown the slightest sign of
intimacy, it was with him. Like all doctors whose associations are so
largely with women, and who are moderately intelligent and
temperamental, he knew a great deal about the dangers of the
imagination. No one ever heard just what passed between the two. One
thing is pretty sure, he made no secrets regarding the affair, and at
the end of the interview he advised the parents to take the girl out
of school, take her abroad, keep her active, present her at courts,
show her the world, keep her occupied, interest her, keep her among
people whether she liked it or not.

The literature teacher counted for something in the affair, and I
imagine that it was never talked over between the parents and