Manchurian Books

Father had brought it from the post office and handed it to her with
exaggerated solemnity. "For Miss Melissa Merriam," he announced.
Yes! there was her name on the tiny envelope.
And, on the tiny card within, written in a painstaking, cramped
hand:
Mr. Raymond Bonner At Home Wednesday June Tenth R.S.V.P. 8 P.M.
With her whole soul in her mouth, which made it quite impossible to
speak, she passed the card to her mother and waited. "Oh," said
mother, "an evening party."
Melissa's soul dropped a trifle: it still clogged her throat, but
she was able to form words.
"Oh, mother!"
"You KNOW you're not to ask to go to evening parties, Missy."
Mother's tone was as firm as doom.
Missy turned her eyes to father.
"Don't look at me with those big saucers!" he smiled. "Mother's the
judge."
So Missy turned her eyes back again. "Mother, PLEASE-"
But mother shook her head. "You're too young to begin such things,
Missy. I don't know what this town's coming to--mere babies running
round at night, playing cards and dancing!"
"But, mother--"
"Don't start teasing, Missy.


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