Free Belles on Their Toes by Frank B. Gilbreth Page B

where she buried it quickly in the sand.
    Later that morning, on the way home from the beach, Anne told Ern she had started smoking about six months before, and had intended to break the news to Dad when she got home for summer vacation. After Dad died, she hadn’t wanted to add to Mother’s immediate worries, so she didn’t say anything about it.
    “Everybody smokes all the time at college,” she said. “I didn’t my freshman year, but it’s hard to keep refusing them, like a wet blanket.”
    “Did you get the habit?” Ern wanted to know.
    “Sometimes,” Anne admitted, “I’d get rid of a pack a week.”
    “It gets a grip on you all right,” Ernestine agreed. “I believe I’ve got the habit from that first one. I’m dying for another right now.”
    “You might have got the chewing habit, but I don’t see how you could have got the smoking habit. You’re not supposed to suck them, you know.”
    “I do now,” Ernestine nodded. “Are you going to tell Mother about your smoking?”
    “Our smoking, you mean,” said Anne. And then imitating Ern: “‘I seem to have left my ciggies at home.’ Please, don’t ever call them that again!”
    “Well, are you going to tell her?”
    “I suppose so,” Anne admitted. “Eventually. I don’t like to do anything behind her back.”
    She fished in the pocket of her beach coat, where there were a package of cigarettes Morton had given her, and a package of Lifesavers she had bought at the bathhouse.
    “Meanwhile,” she said, offering the Lifesavers to Ern, “we’d better have a couple of these.”
    At Mother’s suggestion, the two oldest girls had moved their belongings out to one of the lighthouses, so they could sleep later in the mornings. Mother thought they were entitled to some quiet and privacy, after being in charge while she was in Europe.
    In the lighthouse, Anne kept her promise that very night and taught Ernestine how to smoke. Ernestine was not a particularly apt pupil, but had a strong thirst for knowledge. The girls used up more than half of the package of cigarettes, before Anne deemed her sufficiently checked out to solo.
    “And I want you to give me your word,” Anne said, “that you won’t smoke at least until you’re in college.”
    “You mean not for a whole year?” Ernestine asked. “No, sir. I couldn’t make any promise like that.”
    “Oh, one or two a week when you’re out on a date or something, might be all right. But no more than that. And not where Martha and the boys can see you.”
    “One or two a week would be fine,” Ernestine agreed. “Just enough to soothe the craving inside of me.”
    “We don’t want to set a bad example. After all, look what happened when you saw me light one.”
    “I promise,” Ernestine said solemnly.
    The girls had kissed Mother goodnight before going to the lighthouse, which was within a few feet of The Shoe. Ordinarily, Mother went to bed about nine o’clock, read sleepily for half an hour—her only free time of the day—and then fell asleep. She usually got up at 5:30 or 6 in the morning, to be with the younger children.
    That night, for some reason, she had been restless. Reading hadn’t made her sleepy. She was lonesome, and wanted company. All the younger children had gone to bed, but she saw from her window that a streak of light was coming from under the door of the lighthouse. Mother put on her bathrobe and slippers, and headed for the lighthouse to chat with the girls.
    Mother thought that children were entitled to privacy, just as much as adults, and never went busting, or tiptoeing either, into anyone’s room. So, while several feet away from the lighthouse, she stopped and called softly.
    “Girls. Annie, Ern. Yoohoo. It’s Mother. May I come in?”
    There was no immediate response from the interior, where the girls were ducking out their cigarettes, hiding the ashtray under Anne’s bed, filling their mouths with Lifesavers, and waving towels to try to get some