The Flower Brides by Grace Livingston Hill

prayed suddenly, her hands clasped tensely, her young heart beating wildly,
if You’ll only let Laurie be
real,
if You’ll only let him come back and be what I thought he was, I’ll never go into another nightclub with him, never, as long as I live. I promise You!
    Then all at once it was as if God stood there and she realized what she had been doing, offering that small concession as bait to the great God to do something for her, even if it meant changing His plan for her life and Laurie’s. Oh, that was a dreadful thing to do!
Please, God, forgive me! Forgive me! I ought not to have prayed that way. Oh, I’m all wrong! Please help me! I’m so unhappy!
    She soon fell into an uneasy slumber that ended in that horrid dream of the high ledge again, and she woke in great distress, crying out for fear of falling down, down into space.
    “Why, what is the matter, dear child!” said her mother bending over her. “Are you in pain?”
    She stared wildly at her mother, standing there in the dimness of the room. Then she tried to shake off the reality of that dream and laugh.
    “I—must have had a nightmare!” she explained, rubbing her eyes. “I guess it was that piece of mince pie I didn’t eat at the tearoom,” she giggled. “I’m all right now, Mother, get back to bed. You’ll catch cold! You haven’t your robe on!” She sprang up and, taking hold of her mother’s shoulders, led her back to bed, laughingly tucking her in, kissing her, and promising not to dream any more that night. The cold of her own room had somewhat dispelled the gloom of the dream, but she lay there for some time still in the power of that awful feeling that she was standing high on that ledge. If this went on she would be a nervous wreck, and that mustn’t happen. She had Mother to think of. Mother mustn’t be frightened. If she should get sick, what would Mother do? She had to snap out of this and do it quickly, and to that end she had to stop thinking about Laurie. If he telephoned, well and good; but if he didn’t, it was just going to be something she expected, that was all. She and Mother were going off to have a good time. She must forget about the party and the beautiful dress with its crimson sash. She must come down to living in her own world and not go creeping after another where she didn’t belong.
    And, of course, it wasn’t as if she had been
turned
out of the other one. She had turned herself out, deliberately taken back the dress she had bought and sent regrets to the party. She had her pride still with her, anyway.
    With that consolation, she turned over and went to sleep again, and when the morning came was able to look fairly cheerful and even a bit excited while they ate their breakfast.
    “Now, Mother, don’t you get too tired,” she admonished as she hurried away to school. “Everything but a few trifles is packed, and I shall be home in plenty of time to see to those. You’ve no dinner to make. We’re getting that on the train. I’m so glad we decided to go by train instead of bus. I adore eating in the diner. And I got chairs in the Pullman, so we’ll have a swell rest before we eat.” She kissed her mother and hurried away, not allowing her eyes to lift and scan the road to see if a yellow roadster was hovering near, as once or twice it had done before when Laurie planned some special treat for her and wanted to make sure she would go. Laurie was out of the picture today, absolutely. She was not going to spoil her radiance by any gloom.
    She was able to carry this attitude through a rather trying day and came home excitedly with a piece of news.
    “What do you think, Mother,” she said, bursting into the house like a child. “I have two days more vacation! Can you imagine it? And to think it should come just at this time. Isn’t it wonderful? I’ve always wanted to have a little time to look around Washington! Isn’t it grand, Mother? I don’t have to be back here till Wednesday