“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.”
“I don’t know. I just wonder if it’s worth it.” Barbara paused by the front door. Then her face lighted up. “There comes Bob,” she breathed. “With him to back me up, they’ll have to let me go.”
“Yeh. With him backing you up,” Ethel agreed dubiously.
“Let me go talk to him,” Barbara proposed. “I can tell him better alone.”
“Okay,” Ethel said briefly. She pushed Barbara through the door. “I’ll start getting some of my things together,” she said as she turned away. “They’re scattered all over the house.”
Barbara ran blithely to the edge of the porch and down the steps. Robert was just turning in the front gate, walking purposefully.
She ran down the path to meet him. “Hello,” she called. “Sure you’re not neglecting your farm on my account?” She took his hand and led him toward the hammock swung in the shade of a giant tree.
“I probably am,” he admitted with a sigh. “Cousin Hattie says I’m letting it go to rack and ruin.”
“Oh, Cousin Hattie!” Barbara made a little face. She drew him down beside her in the hammock and smiled at him.
“See here,” Robert said uncomfortably. His hands were clasped tightly and his strong body seemed to repel her. “What’s the matter with you and Cousin Hattie?” he questioned miserably. “I just met her as she was going home. She seemed terribly upset... said you’d insulted her.”
“I just told her the truth,” Barbara said gravely.
“But... what was it all about?” he persisted.
“Suppose I said she insulted me?” Barbara asked him evenly.