II + 

“But you’re children,” said Stephen. + 

“Oh, Dad,” said Cicily, with a tolerant smile, “be your age!” + 

Jane looked from Stephen to her twinkling daughter. Stephen was sitting in his armchair in the Lakewood living-room. The Evening Post, which had fallen from his hands a moment before at Cicily’s astounding announcement, lay on the floor at his feet. He was gazing at Cicily with an expression of mingled incredulity and consternation. + 

Cicily, her hand thrust casually through Jack Bridges’s arm, was standing on the hearthrug. She looked very cool and a little amused and not at all disheartened. She looked, indeed, just as she always did, like a yellow dandelion, with her tempestuous bobbed head of golden excelsior. The severity of her khaki uniform with its Red Cross insignia enhanced her flower-like charm. It was the common clay from which the flower had sprung. She looked as fresh as a dandelion, and as indifferent and as irresponsible. Jack Bridges was in khaki, too, with the crossed rifles of the infantryman on his collar and the gold bar of the second Lieutenant on his shoulders. He had come down yesterday for that weekend’s leave from Camp Brant at Rockford. He had just learned that he was sailing for France in six weeks, with the Eighty-Sixth Division. + 

Jack did not look at all disheartened, either, but not quite as cool as Cicily, nor nearly as indifferent nor as much amused. He looked just like Robin, Jane thought, with his pleasant snub-nosed smile and his friendly pale blue eyes. He was glancing at Stephen a trifle apologetically, but with no lack of self-confidence. + 

“How could I not have seen this was coming?” thought Jane. + 

“We’re not children, Dad,” continued Cicily with a pleasant smile. “I was nineteen in February and Jack will be twenty-two in July. We’re both well out of the perambulator!” + 

“I know just how you feel, sir,” said Jack sympathetically, “and I dare say, in a way, you’re right. If it weren’t for the war, I don’t suppose we would be getting married. If it weren’t for the war I’d be going to Tech all next winter and Cicily would be buzzing about the tea-fights at home. Still, she’d soon be marrying someone else, you know. I’d never have had the nerve to ask a girl like Cicily to wait for me. If it weren’t for the war, I’d be just an also-ran!” + 

“Wasn’t fought in vain, was it, Jacky?” said Cicily, pinching his elbow. + 

He kissed her pink cheek, very coolly, under her parents’ startled eyes. + 

“I wouldn’t expect to keep Cicily waiting at the church very long, even in wartime,” said Jack⁠—Jane caught the note of humility behind his levity⁠—“so we thought⁠—” + 

“Jack!” said Cicily. “Don’t put it like that! We don’t think⁠—we know! We’re going to get married, Dad, on the last day of June and have a two weeks’ honeymoon before he sails for France.” + 

“Cicily,” said Jane, “you’re much too young. You haven’t had any experience. You can’t know your own mind. The war has been fearfully upsetting, I know, for your generation. But you’re still a child. Oh⁠—I know you’ve been home a year from Rosemary! But what sort of a year has it been? Just war work⁠—and Jack. Not even a proper début. He was here every evening last summer when he was at Fort Sheridan in the R.O.T.C. And since he went to Rockford you’ve been getting letters and motoring up to see him and planning to get him down here on leave! You’ve never looked at another man⁠—” Why hadn’t she seen this was coming? It was all so terribly clear in retrospect. + 

“You can’t get married,” said Stephen firmly, “before Jack goes to France.” + 

“You married Mumsy,” said Cicily sweetly, “before you went to Cuba.” + 

“That was very different,” said Jane. + 

“Why was it different?” said Cicily. + 

“Because your father was twenty-nine years old,” said Jane decidedly, “and I was twenty-one and I’d been home from college for two years and I’d known lots of men and⁠—” + 

“Well, I bet if you’d wanted to marry the first man you looked at you’d have done it!” said Cicily. + 

A sudden flood of memories swept over Jane. Her father’s library on Pine Street. Her mother, shrill and effective. Her father, kind and competent. Herself and André, two shaken, irresolute children, standing mute before them, a world of young emotion lying shattered at their feet. But this generation was different. No trace even of anxiety in Cicily’s amused smile. + 

“Anyway, I’m going to. We’re not asking you, Mumsy, we’re telling you! It’s all settled. Belle’s talking to Aunt Isabel this minute⁠—” + 

“Belle?” questioned Jane. + 

“Belle and Albert,” said Cicily. “Albert Lancaster. He’s told his mother. We’re going to have a double wedding, here in the garden, the last day of June.” + 

“A double wedding!” cried Jane and Stephen at once. + 

“Yes,” said Cicily calmly. “Do you think the roses will be out? We’ve planned for everything. Why, Jenny’s known about it for two weeks. She’s going to be bridesmaid for both of us. Just Jenny⁠—but lots of ushers, with crossed swords, you know. Belle and I are going to cut the cakes with Albert’s and Jack’s sabres.” + 

“Cicily,” said Jane, “this is perfectly preposterous! Aunt Isabel will never listen to you! Why, Belle’s only eighteen! Albert’s not yet twenty.” + 

“He will be in August,” said Cicily. “I don’t see why you carry on about it like this. I don’t see why you don’t think it’s all very sweet and touching. Belle’s been my best friend all my life and now I’m marrying her brother and she’s marrying the son of one of your best friends and⁠—” + 

“In the first place,” said Stephen, “you’re all first cousins.” + 

“Albert isn’t anybody’s first cousin,” said Cicily pertly. “So that lets Belle out. And as for Jack and me⁠—that’s all right. We looked it all up in Havelock Ellis. There’s no danger in consanguinity if there isn’t an hereditary taint in the family. We’ve been awfully eugenic, Mumsy! We’ve simply scoured the connection for an hereditary taint! And we haven’t found a thing but Uncle Robin’s shortsightedness. Of course I’d hate to have a shortsighted baby⁠—but maybe I wouldn’t as it’s not in the common line. Anyway, there’s no insanity, nor epilepsy, nor cancer, nor T.B., nor venereal disease⁠—” + 

“Cicily,” said Stephen a little hastily, “you don’t know what you’re talking about⁠—” + 

Cicily dropped Jack’s arm and sank down on the arm of her father’s chair. She kissed the bald spot on top of his head very tenderly. + 

“Dad, dear,” she said very sweetly, “perhaps we don’t. Perhaps you didn’t know just what you were talking about when you wanted to marry Mumsy. But still you did it. You did it and you went to war and it all came out all right. Can’t you remember how you felt when you wanted to marry Mumsy?” + 

Across the dandelion head Stephen’s eyes met Jane’s. + 

“What are we going to do with them, Jane?” he said, with a smile that was half a sigh. + 

“Nothing,” said Jane very practically, “at the moment. We’ll talk it over with Isabel and Robin. And Muriel, of course. I don’t suppose Bert understands much, any more, of what goes on around him, but Muriel’s always decided⁠—” + 

Cicily jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Jane’s neck. + 

“That’s a good Mumsy!” she cried. Then, turning to Jack, “Come out in the garden, old thing! The apple tree’s still in bloom!” She seized his hand and turned toward the terrace doors. + 

“Cicily,” said Jane doubtfully, “nothing is settled. I don’t quite like⁠—” + 

Cicily burst into indulgent laughter. + 

“What do you think I am, Mumsy?” she inquired cheerfully “Sweet nineteen and never been kissed? Oh, you are precious⁠—both of you!” She tossed a kiss to her parents on the hearthrug and dragged Jack from the room. Jane watched their slim, young, khaki-clad figures romp down the lawn and disappear behind the clump of evergreens. + 

“Stephen,” said Jane, “it’s a very different generation. But what are we going to do?” + 

“I’m going to remember,” said Stephen, rising from his chair, “how I felt when I wanted to marry Mumsy!” He took her hand in his. Dear old Stephen! His eyes were just a little moist behind his bone-rimmed spectacles. Jane kissed him very tenderly. + 

“Just the same,” said Jane, “I wasn’t a bit like Cicily.” + 

“You were just as sweet,” said Stephen, “and nearly as young.” + 

“But I was different,” said Jane. “I know I was different.” + 

She sighed a little as she slipped from Stephen’s embrace. + 

“Well⁠—we’ll see what Isabel has to say,” she said. + 