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 ESCAPE MY LOVE
A VALENTINE’S DAY SHORT STORY
DIANA A. HICKS
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is
entirely coincidental.
ESCAPE MY LOVE
COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Diana A. Hicks
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission of the author or HMG, Inc. except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Art by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

Publishing History
First Edition, 2020
Digital ISBN 978-1-949760-23-1
Paperback ISBN 978-1-949760-24-8
Published in the United States of America
To my valentine…
 CONTENTS

1. The Crucible
2. No One's Ever Refused
3. For Valentine's Day
About the Author
Books by Diana A. Hicks
Big Joey's Kid
 1
THE CRUCIBLE

Mia
“What the hell is this place? And more importantly, why the fuck
am I here?” I glared at the man who had more or less grabbed me
from the Rossi penthouse. A bold move on his part, given how I’d
recently married into a Mafia family under the protection of the Big 5
—the five original crime families. At least that was the rumor. No one
was stupid enough to test that theory.
The five original crime families had gone underground so long
ago and were so hard to find, people had started to believe their
existence was no more than a legend. Mafia families were still
around, but a single crime society that controlled it all seemed far-
fetched these days.
“Mr. Valentino promises you’ll have answers before the night is
over.” The man pointed his head at my fur coat.
I rolled my eyes but shrugged out of it and dumped it in his
arms. The freezing air brushed across my bare back as he ushered
me inside the building. I was glad to exchange the dark and
deserted alley for a place that was warm and full of people who
seemed to be enjoying themselves.
“This is why you had me change into this gown? A party in a
fucking nightclub?” I shifted my body to address the man behind
me, but he was gone. The hairs on the nape of my neck prickled.
Fuck me.
 I strode farther down the red-carpeted hallway toward the
sensual music laced with laughter and happy voices. The elevator
door slid open the second I reached it.
“Mrs. Rossi, welcome.” A guy in a tailored suit gestured for me to
get in. He didn’t look like a doorman, but he didn’t look as if he were
in charge either.
In my line of work, I’ve used this kind of intimidation tactic. As
the boss of the Rogue River crew, I didn’t bother paying a visit to
assholes who’d decided to step out of line. Instead, I had my guys
deliver them to me. My best guess was this Mr. Valentino wanted a
word with me. Fine. I played along and walked into the elevator car.
I strolled onto the rooftop with my senses on high alert. A
woman in lingerie with short, shiny hair and red lips offered me a
glass of champagne. I took it out of habit but didn’t drink. Babies
and alcohol didn’t mix. Where the hell was Tyler? By now, I was sure
he’d noticed I’d been taken, though I couldn’t exactly claim I’d been
kidnapped. More like I was extended an invitation I couldn’t refuse.
The opulence of the place with its velvet sofas and upholstered
leather club chairs spoke of power, money, and sex. It all dripped
from the carmine silk walls and everything around me. I was fine
with it. But this feeling of danger that crept in every dark corner put
me on edge. Its presence crawled on my skin and drummed inside
my chest. When I turned around, I ran into a chest I’d become
intimately familiar with in the past few months.
“Omigod, Tyler. What the hell is going on?”
He held me tight. “Don’t know. I’m sorry—I didn’t have time to
warn you.”
“Me neither.” I surveyed his dark tuxedo, and he did the same to
my dress.
“This was not how I had planned to spend Valentine’s Day with
you.” He slid his hands down my back and over the beaded fabric of
the pale dress covering my ass.
“Don’t do that.” I sighed as his fingers left a trail of goose bumps
on my arm.
“You look stunning.”
 “We’re supposed to hate each other. Remember?” I pushed him
away, ignoring the pressure building between my legs. Tyler and I
had been forced into an arranged marriage and were expecting a
baby in the summer. For the safety of our little family, we’d agreed
to let everyone continue to believe that we hated each other’s guts,
that our marriage was merely a business transaction to unite the
New York and Jersey factions under the Rossi family.
“How could I forget? I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” I shuffled back another step. Even in this
crowded space, we were being watched. The desire in his blue gaze
made me wish we were back at his penthouse, the only place where
we could be ourselves. “So this Valentino guy wants to talk to us.
Why?”
“It’s hard to say how many allies or enemies Jax Rossi had.” He
rubbed the sexy stubble on his cheek. “I’m the new boss of a faction
that’s about to double in size. My guess is Valentino means to have a
pissing contest with me. Fuck off is what I want to say. Actually, I
did, and now we’re here.”
“Same with me.” I diverted my gaze to the women dancing on
the short platforms set around the space. Their see-through leotards
left nothing to the imagination. “How about we mingle and see if we
can learn a bit more about this Valentino guy.”
“Mia, I think it’s best if we stay together.” He wrapped his fingers
around my elbow.
Across the way, the man who’d brought me in regarded us with
an impassive look about him, as if he wasn’t interested in our
existence. I didn’t believe it for a second. I yanked my elbow free
and glared at Tyler before I walked away. As much as I wanted to
kiss him right now, we had to keep up appearances. If we let our
guards down, our baby would pay the price. I cradled my small
bump, then quickly dropped my hand to the side. This place wasn’t
safe for us. Not until we figured out why we were here.
I set down my untouched glass of bubbles and headed for the
bar near the glass enclosure. The view from up here was
mesmerizing, though no one seemed to notice. Guests were too
busy ogling the half-naked servers and dancers. In front of me, two
women in their early twenties placed their orders. They held hands
while their curious gazes roamed the surroundings.
“Holy shit, Emma, I can’t believe we got in.” The one in a tight
leather dress bounced in place.
“I had a feeling tonight was our night. This place is everything I
thought it would be.” Emma practically had stars in her eyes. “I wish
I had my phone. My Insta account would blow up if I managed to
post pictures of me inside the Crucible.”
“Dork. I’m sure that’s why they snatched our phones.”
“I swear this place is making me horny.” Emma bit her lip and
smiled at a shirtless guy walking by.
My gaze skipped him and moved on to Tyler across the way,
looking incredibly hot in his tuxedo and just-fucked dark hair. You
and me both, girl. You and me both. I exhaled. The sooner I found a
way out of here, the sooner Tyler and I could have that Valentine’s
Day date he’d promised. We’d made plans. Then the Mafia came
calling.
After Emma and her friend got their drinks, the bartender
addressed me with a slight bow of his head. “Mrs. Rossi. Another
glass of Champagne?”
My heartbeat quickened. He knew me? So much for flirting with
him to get some answers. “Club soda and lime, please.”
“Of course.” He tapped his ear and nodded, with his eyes zeroed
in on someone behind me. “The conference will start in a few
minutes. Aaron will escort you.”
I turned around to find the guy who’d brought me here.
Scanning the sea of faces, I could see that Tyler had already left.
“Lead the way.”
Aaron strode toward the other end of the room. His massive back
seemed to get wider as he elbowed people out of the way to make
room for us. The guests didn’t appear to mind; they merely held on
to their drinks tighter and stepped aside. He opened the door that
led to a different corridor than the one I used to get to the party. A
set of stairs later, we were in a part of the building with walls
paneled in a rich, embroidered fabric and furnishings that looked
intricately old and expensive. More money, more power.
 When we reached the tall double doors at the end of the room,
Aaron bowed and pushed the doors open with both hands. The
adjacent room was a sort of vestibule. Several upholstered chairs
lined the walls. A round table with a huge floral arrangement on top
divided the room in half. Four groups of people were scattered
throughout in their fancy garb, talking in hushed voices while
slanting glances to the others.
To my right, Tyler’s form stalked over to me. The lines across his
forehead told me he was furious, furious and worried for me. When
he was within earshot, he gripped my waist with his large hand and
cradled my cheek with the other while his mouth collided with mine.
His kiss was forceful and hungry. No doubt I’d be bruised later. But I
didn’t care. My body reacted to any kind of connection with him. He
pulled away, his eyes still shooting daggers at me.
“Do not leave my side again.”
I opened my mouth to explain that being my husband and
looking this crazy hot in a tux didn’t give him the right to tell me
what to do, but the laughter coming from behind me cut me off.
“You still have work to do with that one.” An old man said before
turning his attention to the younger man standing beside him.
“The chase is part of the fun,” Tyler said, deadpan. He kissed my
ear and whispered, “The Big 5 are meeting tonight. That’s why we’re
here.”
I stared at him with wide eyes. Shit. The five crime families, the
originals, were real? I had no time to ask the question because in
that moment the massive mahogany door across the way swung
open. Why the hell were we here?
 2
NO ONE'S EVER REFUSED

Tyler
Holding Mia’s hand tighter than necessary, I filed into the overly
ornate boardroom. Everything about this place screamed Mafia and
old school. When the FBI enlisted me to go undercover as Jax
Rossi’s grandson, I never imagined I’d find myself in the lion’s den
this soon after infiltrating the Rossi family. With Jax’s sudden demise,
the help of the FBI, and my marriage to Mia, I’d done the
impossible. I’d come face-to-face with the Big 5, the century-old
Criminal Society.
The thing about undercover work was that no amount of training
could have prepared me for the string of unfortunate events that
came after I’d agreed to take on the assignment. My first beautiful
mistake had been to fall for a crew boss, Mia. Because of her, being
Chase Rossi, the long-lost grandson of Jax Rossi, didn’t feel like a
job.
The woman I loved more than anything in this world and my
unborn baby were here tonight. If it were up to me, they would be
at home, heavily guarded. But they were brought in for a very
specific reason. That pissed me off, but until we knew what Rex
Valentino wanted, there wasn’t much we could do.
This meeting wasn’t about pleasing the FBI. It was about my
family’s survival. The problem was, I had no idea what kind of
relationship Jax had with the Valentino family and the Big 5.
 Everyone trickled into the room and lingered around the long
mahogany table of sixteen. They all stayed cleared of the far end,
where a chair with the head of a lion carved on the extra-long
backrest sat regally empty. In the months I had spent with Jax
before he died, I learned how big and dangerous egos could get.
This Rex Valentino seemed to be the worst of them all. Looking
around me, at the sourpuss faces, I’d had to guess almost everyone
hadn’t come here of their own accord.
An old woman with a salt-and-pepper ballerina bun sat at the
opposite end of the table. Her lips set in a thin line, she looked ready
to murder someone. Her companion showed a friendlier disposition
while her gaze scanned the room, as if looking for someone she
knew.
“Nice. Get us here in a rush, then make us wait. I hate waiting,”
Mia whispered in my ear. “Whatever this asshole is planning the
answer is no.”
“Maybe we wait and find out. If he wanted to kill us, he could’ve
done that a thousand times over.”
“True.”
Mia was right, of course. Whatever the fuck Rex had planned for
tonight couldn’t be good for our health. I had to find a way to get
her out of here sooner rather than later.
She pulled me toward the corner of the room where floor-to-
ceiling bookcases lined the entire wall. Thick, old volumes filled
every shelf. No room for knickknacks or family portraits. She ran her
finger along a book spine with gold lettering, her eyes not really
focusing on it.
“You know what’s interesting to me?” Her words were barely
above a whisper. “We don’t know anyone here. But do you get the
feeling they’re not surprised to see us?”
“Yeah, they may hate each other, but they all know who they are.
They have to know we don’t belong.” I surveyed the room. No
familiar faces here, no known names. We were in the thick of it,
running blind and with no backup.
“You think Jax gets his wish tonight?” she asked, then shook her
head in disbelief. “No, it can’t be that easy.”
 “Technically, it wasn’t that easy.”
She gripped the lapel of my tuxedo with a flick of fear in her
eyes. “I don’t like this, Tyler. If I thought getting into bed with the
Rossi family was a bad idea, this is a thousand times worse.”
“Agreed. Whatever they want, the answer is no.” I leaned in to
kiss her but then thought better of it. Hiding my feelings for Mia kept
getting harder and harder.
The doors to the boardroom opened again, and a man who
couldn’t be older than thirty strode in and headed straight for the
lion chair. He glared at it for a moment before he gripped the
backrest. Dark would be a good word to describe him. Dark hair,
dark eyes, dark mood—just dark.
I had to assume this guy was Rex Valentino, the one who got us
all here, because the minute he walked in, everyone stood at
attention. He scanned the faces in front of him as if taking count.
When his gaze settled on me, I fought the urge to shift my weight or
even glare. I kept a straight face until he turned to the bodyguard
who’d come in on his heels.
“Where is he?” His deep voice rumbled in the room.
“He’s on his way up. There was a situation downstairs. But it’s
resolved,” his guy answered. They were not concerned at all that the
rest of us could hear them.
Rex adjusted his watch, and his features softened for a beat. “Is
she with him?”
“Yes, sir. Everything is as you requested.”
He nodded toward the door. The bodyguard tapped his ear and
headed out. Next to us, a man with silver rings on his fingers sat on
one of the leather club chairs as if he were home. His devil-may-care
smirk made him look uninterested, bored. But the intense look in his
eyes told me he didn’t trust Rex any more than I did.
The door opened again, and an old man who could barely walk
trudged in. A young woman in a red dress patiently ushered him to a
seat near the head of the table. Rex smiled at the duo, ogling her in
an almost-crude way.
“He’s here. I hope you’re happy.” She shot him a dirty look.
 Didn’t they get tired of this hate between the families? We’d been
here a total of twenty minutes, and I was about done. They all had
this look on their faces, as if they were about to rip each other’s
throats out. Even the woman with the angelic face seemed capable
of killing. She directed most of her angry glances and pursed lips at
Rex, who didn’t seem to mind.
“Yes, Caterina. This makes me happy.” He looked it as he pulled
out his chair and sat. When he did, so did everyone else.
Mia walked past me and took the spot on Rex’s left. A half smirk
pulled at his lips, but other than that, he didn’t make her move. I
took the place next to hers because there was no chance in hell I’d
let her out of my sight again.
“I believe the last time we were gathered like this, our families
were still smuggling rum.” He chuckled. “I appreciate you making
the time to come here tonight.”
“Get on with it, Rex,” the old woman said in a smoker’s voice. “If
it’d been up to me, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe this will be of interest to you, Signora Vittoria. As of last
night, the entire Gallo family has been wiped out. Even the
bastards.” He sat back with a satisfied look on his face when the old
lady gasped, making the sign of the cross. His gaze fell on the two
empty chairs next to her.
“The Big 5 is now down to four,” one of the men said, playing
with the ring on his pinky. “Is that why we’re here, Rex? You
could’ve sent an email and saved us all the aggravation.” He rose to
his feet.
“Sit down, Santino.” Signora Vittoria’s voice was final.
Santino, who before couldn’t care less, now regarded the old lady
with interest. He didn’t do as he was told, but he didn’t move either.
“No, that’s not why we’re here, Santi. The society has been
around for a long time. In one night, we lost an entire family. I
brought you here to call a truce, which will stay in place until we
figure out who’s trying to wipe us out.” The obstinate look in Rex’s
eyes made Santino plop himself on the chair with a devil-may-care
smirk on his face
 “A truce?” he asked. “Like what? We work together, one big
happy family? No, thank you. I’ll take my chances.”
The room erupted into a bouquet of angry voices and frantic
questions. I glanced at Mia, and she shook her head once. This
wasn’t our fight. Someone out there had not only learned about the
Gallo family’s connection to the society, but they had also figured a
way to find and eliminate them all.
“Gallo,” Mia mouthed the word.
Several members of that family had attended our wedding. I
knew that because I helped the FBI catalog their photos and names
—every one of them. Was the FBI behind all this? If they were, I
had not been briefed on it. Wouldn’t be the first time the agency
went behind my back to advance their own cause, though. To hell
with the risk I was taking by playing the part of Chase Rossi.
One by one, the different family members stood and headed for
the door. They were under attack, and they knew that. But the idea
of a truce to save the rest of the society was inconceivable to them.
I stood and helped Mia out of her seat. My handgun had been
confiscated before I even left the penthouse. For Mia’s sake, I hoped
the others were required to leave their weapons at home as well.
She turned to me, her hand hovering over her belly. For the first
time since I met her, I saw fear in her eyes. Not for her, but for our
baby.
Rex shot to his feet. “There’s a traitor in our midst. If you leave,
I’ll assume you’re it. I’ll have no choice but to retaliate. The bylaws
are clear on this. Someone betrayed the society, and I intend to find
out who. There are only two sides to this coin. Which side are you
on?” His gaze fell on the old man to his right and the woman with
him before it shifted to Signora Vittoria.
In the next breath, several bodyguards burst through the doors,
guns out as they found their bosses. The family members didn’t
have weapons, but their lackeys did. This was a standoff. If this was
my fight, I would have bet on Rex. But these people had too much
history and too much blood on their hands to find a reason to trust
each other. My spine spasmed as I stood there with nothing to
defend myself, playing human shield to Mia. Time to leave.
 I stepped back, reaching behind me to find Mia’s hand and
hitting nothing but air. When I turned, she was gone. I scanned the
dark corners of the room and every face in front of me. Fuck.
“I just told you someone wants us dead. And this is your
solution? Shoot the remaining society members?” Rex nodded to one
of the men next to him. He immediately left his post protecting Rex
and came to stand next to me.
After the group scattered into the waiting room and then the
hallway, another man in a dark suit shut the door. I shoved the guy
standing guard next to me and glowered at Rex. “Where the hell is
my wife?”
“I read your file.”
My blood rushed to my feet. Which file? Tyler’s or Chase’s?
“Rossi raised you outside of all this. Soon you’ll learn that
relationships will get you killed.” He sat on his chair and downed his
untouched drink.
“Why did you bring us here? This isn’t our fight.”
“As of tonight, it is.”
“What?”
“Isn’t this what your grandfather wanted? A seat at the table for
the Rossi family?”
Everything Jax Rossi had done since he became head boss had
been toward this goal, the Big 5. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Rossi
didn’t make it here because I killed him. Now Rex was offering me
the job. You keep what you kill.
When I first started this assignment, I had a pretty good
understanding of who the bad guys were. From this side of the
fence, though, things weren’t so clear. “And if I refuse?”
“No one’s ever refused.” Rex shrugged.
“What exactly are you offering?”
“Jax had our protection. Whenever things didn’t go his way, we’d
step in...quietly. Now I’m asking you to return the favor. Find the
assholes who are doing this to us.”
“What if I can’t?”
“We all die.” He furrowed his brows with a slight shake to his
head, as if the answer were so obvious.
 It was and it wasn’t, because technically this shitshow wasn’t my
problem. “You mean you die. I just got there.”
“The society has been in place this long because even though we
hate each other’s guts, we understand one thing. We stand together,
or we don’t stand at all. Don’t let their theatrics fool you. Once they
see this for the very real threat that it is, they’ll come back.”
“That means shit to me. You’ll find that my grandfather and I are
very different people.” Whatever deal Jax Rossi cut with Rex, I knew
it couldn’t be anything good. What did he offer? More drugs, more
human trafficking? I wasn’t about to start up that fucked-up idea
again. My brothers and I had just dismantled Jax’s business venture
with the Venezuelan cartel.
“If I didn’t know that already, you wouldn’t be here. Jax was
never going to be one of us.” He rose to his feet and poured himself
a drink before he offered me one.
“No, thanks.” Though I did need a drink in the worst way.
“You start tomorrow.”
Chase Rossi would have no clue as to where to start looking for
the would-be killers of the society members. But Agent Tyler Cole
knew exactly where to dig. I gripped the backrest of my chair and
shoved it against the table. “You can’t expect me to solve this for
you. It doesn’t work like that.”
“I need people like you and Mia on my side. If the society goes
under, chaos will ensue. This country’s economy needs us. It may
not be apparent to you, but we’re the ones keeping peace. We’re the
good guys.”
I rubbed the creases on my forehead. My brother Wesley had
said we needed a different type of good guy. Was Rex Valentino it—
the vigilante this city needed? Or was he feeding me pretty lies to
save his ass?
“I’ll see you around.” My heart thrashed in my ears as I headed
for the door, half-expecting his men to stop me, but they didn’t.
When I reached the antechamber, the charge in the air shifted from
murderous to slightly menacing. My life was this side of fucked up, if
I considered that an improvement. The minute the door closed
behind me, I picked up the pace without breaking into a run. Mia
couldn’t have gone too far. I hated that Rex knew how much she
meant to me. There wasn’t anything in this world I wouldn’t do to
keep her and the baby safe.
“Mia,” I called out in the cavernous hallway. The carpet had been
recently replaced, but the corridor still had that musty smell old
buildings had.
“Tyler.” A muffled sound came from behind the walls.
“Mia.” I pressed my palms to the panel, following the whimpers
and thumps that tumbled down the corridor. Mia was giving them
hell. These assholes didn’t know who they were dealing with. She
wasn’t the type to go down without a fight. When I reached a spot
where the wood trim had a slight separation, I shoved the panel in
and a door swung open. I chased after them down the hidden
passage, which was well lit and looked fairly new. I made a right,
then a left.
A few steps in, I found Mia towering over a guy sprawled on the
floor. “He pulled me into the partition back in the boardroom. What
the fuck? What does Rex want with us? Why split us up?”
“He wanted to talk to me alone.” I made to move, and the cold
barrel of a gun dug just under my ribs.
Mia raised her hands, even though she didn’t have a weapon
pointed at her. “Let him go.”
The bodyguard on the floor stirred, then was on his feet in two
kicks, face bright red. His gaze darted between Mia, me, and his
buddy. “She stays.” He wiped his bloody lip.
So this was Rex’s plan? Keep Mia until I fixed his Mafia problem?
To hell with him. If these bodyguards killed me, who would help
Rex? I elbowed the guy behind me, and he dropped his gun. I
kicked it toward Mia, snatched him by the collar, and punched him
several times until his body went limp in my grip. “The hell she is.”
When I turned to her, a loud thud in my ears made me fall to my
knees before the whole room became a long tunnel in front of me. I
rubbed my eyes to keep the shadows from creeping in.
“Stop.” Mia’s voice sounded far away and full of panic. “I’ll go
with you. Just let him be. I won’t fight you.”
“Mia,” I called after her.
The panel opened, and then she was gone again.
 3
FOR VALENTINE'S DAY

Mia
Rex’s bodyguard shoved me into the boardroom. I pushed back.
“I said I’d come with you. I’m not a fucking rag doll.”
“Jesus fuck, she’s pregnant. Set her down.” Rex sat on the
mahogany table with one thigh propped on it and the other
extended in front of him. His dark gaze shifted from me to the man
holding me in place just past the threshold. “My apologies for my
men’s manners. They’re not used to dealing with lady bosses.”
Suddenly, my escort couldn’t get away from me fast enough. He
was right to fear me. “If we were anywhere else, he’d be dead by
now.” I turned my attention to Rex.
“I know.” He gestured for me to take a seat next to him. “A
word?”
“No, thanks.”
Rex was hot. Not Tyler hot, but up there. He couldn’t be much
older than me, but something about him felt old world. Maybe it was
this place. Did he live here? I’d met too many guys like him before.
This world of Mafia kings and shoving your way through life just to
stay alive was all he knew. Same as me.
“Seems to me you’re also in need of having your bedside manner
adjusted. You want to talk to us? How about you have your people
call our people? Tonight was overkill.”
He furrowed his brows. To his credit, he actually seemed
confused. Did he not realize what kind of a shitshow tonight was? If
he hadn’t kidnapped people left and right to bring them here, they
would have been more amiable to hearing him out. Instead, he
almost got us all shot.
“I was only trying to protect you and the baby. Vittoria’s
bodyguards tend to get a little trigger happy at times.”
“I meant the entire night was overkill. Try asking next time.”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Is this advice from one boss
to another?”
Technically, it was from one boss to a king, but I appreciated that
he didn’t try to pull rank on me. “What do you want? You wanted to
talk to Chase alone. Now me. I’m tired. And I’d like to go home. So
let’s get on with it.”
“I want the Rossi family to sit at my table.”
“Done.”
He chuckled. “Done?”
“Yes. I had time to think about it.” I let out a breath, relieved that
was all he wanted. I would never turn on Tyler. We’d be having a
different conversation if he’d asked for that. “One thing, though.
Leave my crew out of it.”
“All I ask is that you keep your house in order.” He cocked an
eyebrow.
I’d had a rocky start with my people, but we were good now.
“Will Tyler be home when I get there?”
He glanced down at his phone, then gave me a quick nod.
“Buona sera.”
“Good night.”
I headed for the door. For the first time tonight, my heart settled
into a normal beat. Somehow I remembered the way out through
the maze of hallways and nightclubs. On the rooftop level, the party
was still going strong, except now the guests were extra drunk and
the place reeked of sex. The women I’d seen at the bar before were
in some kind of threesome with a guy.
When I reached the alley, Vic was in the SUV, waiting. I climbed
in the back seat and swallowed my tears. “I miss Jersey.”
“Me too. Where to?” he asked as he let the car tires roll forward.
 “Tyler’s place.” I met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Did you talk
to him?”
“He sent me. He’s under house arrest until you get there.” He
shrugged. “So, a seat at the ‘big table,’ huh? You’ve accomplished in
a few months what Rossi couldn’t in a lifetime.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call this a win. We were in charge before.
Now we answer to this Rex guy.”
Tonight could have been a thousand times worse. All I wanted
now was to get to Tyler. I still hadn’t forgotten the way he kissed me
when he thought he’d lost me earlier. After all these months of being
married to him, I still craved his touch. Probably more than before
because now I knew we were meant to be together. We were in
deep, all the way—with the crews in Jersey, the faction in New York,
and now the society.
As soon as Vic pulled up to the curb, I sprang out of the car with
a quick wave to him. I punched the elevator call button repeatedly
until the doors opened, and then I jumped in. My heartbeat
quickened when I stepped into the hallway and found him waiting
for me.
He’d removed his tuxedo jacket and undone his tie. He still
looked hotter than he had any right to be. The desire in his eyes
made me run the rest of the way. I crushed into him, and our
mouths collided in a desperate kiss. He gripped my face tighter than
usual, but I didn’t care. I wanted him. With his hands all over me, he
shuffled me inside and shut the door.
I fumbled with the studs on his shirt while he wrestled my dress
off. My skin against his hard body brought me a bit of that release
I’d been yearning for all night. In the open floor-style penthouse, we
made it as far as the dining table. The bedrooms were at the other
end. That was too long to wait. Tyler grabbed handfuls of my butt
cheeks and lifted me onto the flat surface. He sucked on my breasts,
pushed me down on the table, and wedged himself between my
legs.
His tongue left a cold and wet trail from the dip of my neck all
the way down to my clit, where he open-mouth kissed me until I felt
I would combust from want. I panted short breaths under his touch,
stretching my arms over my head. My fingers dug into something
that felt smooth and sticky.
“What is this?” I licked the chocolate frosting off my fingers,
surveying the entire setup on the opposite end—a bouquet of
wildflowers surrounded by candlelight and dinner for two. A slow,
sexy tune played in the background.
“Dessert.” Tyler lapped the length of my pussy while he pumped
his hard cock with long strokes. “For Valentine’s Day. Though I’d
rather have you. You taste so much sweeter. Have a taste.” He
climbed over me, caught both my wrists and pinned them above my
head before he plunged his tongue in my mouth.
The taste of my arousal and chocolate swirled together in some
kind of an erotic treat. “Tyler, now.” I gripped fistfuls of his hair,
waiting for him. He rode me hard. I didn’t need sweet or slow. I
wanted us to be together and know that nothing could ever separate
us. He was mine. And I was his.
When he rolled his hips toward me, I arched my back. A quick
spark at my core made me tremble. I was close. As he if could read
my thoughts, he gripped my hip and hit my sensitive spot with
controlled and unrelenting thrusts. He kept me in a tight hold and
watched me come with a satisfied smile on his face. Right before he
climaxed too.
“Oh fuck, Mia.” He collapsed next to me.
“I needed that.” I puffed out air, licking sweat off my lips—mine
or his, I didn’t know.
“Maybe we can still salvage today.” He pointed at the meal
waiting for us on the other end of the table.
“Did you do all this? When?” I dug my finger in the cake again.
“Earlier today. Happy Valentine’s Day.” He caught my fingers and
sucked them clean. “Don’t ruin your appetite.”
“Thank you. It’s beautiful. Sorry I messed up your cake.” I
watched his mouth wrapped around my fingers. My bud hardened,
and I rubbed my mound against his leg. “You’re making me hungry
for something else.”
“We have all night.”
 I sat up and met his blue gaze. “I was so afraid for us before.
Having a family of my own, as it turns out, is mostly spending my
day worrying about losing it. I want to know for sure that we have
more than one night.”
He cradled my face and brought me down to him for a kiss. “We
will not lose what we have. I promise you.”
“And the society? Rex didn’t say it, but I know you agreed to join
them. I did too.”
Rex had separated us because he thought we hated each other.
No doubt he figured if he talked to us separately, he could make his
case to fit our needs. But Tyler and I loved each other. We both
wanted the same thing.
“This is how we stay alive.” He pressed his hand to my belly.
“How we keep our family together. We survived Jax Rossi. We’ll
survive this too. Do you trust me?”
“I do.” I ran a finger down the hard edge of his jaw and his lips.
This gorgeous man was all mine. Rex would never be able to take
this from us.

Hey Sexy Reader!

Thank you so much for reading Escape My Love. I had so much fun
writing about Mia and Tyler again. They’re so good together.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed their Valentine’s short story. And if you
did, please do leave an honest review.

Will there be a spinoff Mafia series? Absolutely! Get ready to meet

the ruthless men of the Big 5 in the upcoming series, the Society.

Want to read Mia and Tyler’s full story? I got ya…you can skip to the
end and read the first chapter, or you can just download it here.
Happy Valentine’s Day!

Diana

One-click ESCAPE YOU now!!

The binge reading continues!

Don't miss out on this suspenseful and seductive series.

Unravel You, Book 1 (Derek and Valentina)

Provoke You, Book 2 (Matt and Ela)
Escape You, Book 3 (Tyler and Mia)
Unleash You, Book 4 (Wesley and Anabelle)
Defy You, Book 5 (Zack and Rebecca)

Did you know? Unravel You (Cole Brothers Series, Book 1) is a hot
billionaire romance that can be read as a standalone. It is a
continuation of Derek & Valentina's romance that began in the
companion novel Love Over Lattes (available now!). While you do
not need to read Love Over Lattes in order to understand Unravel
You, the overall story is best enjoyed in that order.

One-click LOVE OVER LATTES now!!!

Praise for LOVE OVER LATTES:

"Hicks' first installment of her Desert Monsoon series is confident
and assured with strong storytelling, nuanced characters, and a
dynamic blend of romance and suspense...A sexy and irresistible tale
for fans of contemporary romance." - Kirkus Reviews

"Love Over Lattes is one of those quintessential romance novels with

plenty of chemistry, mutual attraction, and push and pull between
the characters." - Readers' Favorite
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releases
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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Diana A. Hicks is an award-winning author of steamy contemporary romance

with a touch of suspense. Love Over Logic, Desert Monsoon series book 2, is the
2019 Readers’ Favorite Silver Medal Winner in the Romantic Suspense genre
When Diana is not writing, she enjoys kickboxing, hot yoga, traveling, and
indulging in the simple joys of life like wine and chocolate. She lives in Atlanta and
loves spending time with her two children and husband. Connect with Diana on
social media to stay up to date on her latest releases.

Connect with Diana on social media to stay up to date on her latest releases.

www.DianaHicksBooks.com
BOOKS BY DIANA A. HICKS

Desert Monsoon Series

Love Over Lattes
Love Over Logic
Love Over Time

Cole Brothers Series

Unravel You
Provoke You
Escape You
Escape My Love
Unleash You
Defy You
 ESCAPE YOU
A sneak peek

Cole Brothers Series, Book 3

 BIG JOEY'S KID

Mia
“What the hell were you thinking?” I tossed my phone on my
office desk.
“I needed the cash,” Leo said with his head held high. As if he
had every right to break into a home not two blocks away from here
and steal a bunch of worthless crap.
I sauntered around the table, exchanging a look with my right-
hand man, Vic. The old man regarded me as if this were some kind
of test. Was it? I should have known Uncle Mickey’s crew wouldn’t
let me take the lead just because he was dead, and they had no one
else stepping up to clean up the mess.
“If you need money, you come to me. You got that? Is it your
daughter?”
“She’s back at the hospital.” Leo’s daughter was a sickly child and
frequently ended up at the ER with rare infections.
“You should’ve trusted me to handle this.” I turned my back to
him and punched in the code on the lockbox keypad. This was a
long shot, but the crew had to understand I was the boss now. They
had to understand I would do anything to protect them. I grabbed a
couple of stacks of money and shoved it in a brown bag. “Here’s
your cut from the run we’re doing in two weeks. It should be more
than enough to cover the hospital bill.”
Leo took the bag with a flicker of fear in his eyes. He knew this
offense would not go unpunished. “Thank you.”
 “When you leave here, you will go straight to the Damiani’s
house and give them ten percent of your loot.”
His body jerked a little before he spun around to face Vic. “She
can’t do that.”
As it were, I’d never been a patient woman, but these assholes
were pushing my limits. I gripped the handgun tucked in the back of
my pants and pressed it to the nape of his neck. “We don’t shit
where we eat. You will make that family whole with the advance I
just gave you. If you don’t fucking like it, you can go somewhere
else. Find a new town, a new crew.”
Leo stood frozen. After several beats, he lowered his head and
nodded. When he turned and met my gaze, I set the gun on the
desk
“Yes, Boss.”
“Go.”
He clutched the bag to his chest and strode out of my office.
When the door shut with a thud behind him, I let out a breath.
“They still don’t trust me.”
“It hasn’t even been a week.” Vic sat on the wide ledge under the
window. Outside, in the parking lot, Leo got in his car and careened
away from the building.
“What I need is a big job. Something that shows them I don’t
need a dick to run this business.”
“You gave him one hundred thousand dollars. What kind of
contract will earn every member of your crew that kind of cash?”
“I just told you. A big one.”
The old man rubbed the wrinkles on his forehead. Vic and I had
been recently thrown together into this partnership. After Uncle
Mickey was shot and killed, leaving us vulnerable to every other rival
gang out there, Vic had decided to stay and keep an eye on Big
Joey’s kid. I wasn’t a kid anymore, though I had a ways to go before
everyone saw that.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re planning to do so I can give
you sound advice you’ll ignore.”
I was sure that was a joke. Vic had changed in his old age.
Maybe he’d seen enough bloodshed, or maybe after seeing Uncle
Mickey’s gruesome death, he finally realized life was too short.
“First, I need to make sure the city council is behind me. After
the stunt Leo and the others pulled, no doubt they’ll look to one of
the other neighboring bosses for protection. I can’t let them do
that.”
“There’s a council meeting in two days. We can crash it.”
“It needs to be sooner than that.”
“Why?”
“Why? Did you forget what we do for a living during your stint in
Arizona with Dom?”
“Fuck, Mia. You’re running a new arms deal this soon?”
“Yes and no. I'm keeping the deal Uncle Mickey had scheduled. I
need you to smooth things over with the cartel and remind them
that their shipment will be delivered on time, just like Uncle Mickey
promised.”
The sunspots on Vic’s face turned a shade darker as he pursed
his lips. He looked pissed, and he wasn’t wrong. Especially since
Uncle Mickey ended up dead because of that same contract with the
Sonoran cartel. But there was more to it. Uncle Mickey hadn’t been
all that innocent. He tried to screw them over, and things quickly
escalated into an all-out shootout right outside this gym, which also
served as my office and one of the warehouses we used to store and
assemble AR-15s.
“There’s no way we can put together that many ARs in a month.”
Vic stood, bracing his hands on his hips.
“That’s just it. They’re already here and fully assembled to the
modifications the cartel wanted. If we can get them to keep their
end of the bargain, we’ll get rid of the inventory and get paid.”
“Why in the hell did he tell them he needed more money to get
the rest of the guns in?”
“Why do you think, Vic? You’d been gone for a long time. Uncle
Mickey was losing it toward the end.”
I owed Uncle Mickey my life. After Dad died, he took me in and
taught me everything I knew. He was old school and never had any
intention of letting me run the family business. Bit by bit, I
convinced him to teach me and let me do a few runs for him. In the
end, he’d agreed because he thought it was cute. What would he
think now that I’d become the only person who could keep this
family together?
“Okay. You win. Let me see if I can get you a private meeting
with select council members. If we can get the majority on our side,
the rest of the council members won’t object.”
“Once I have their blessing, our trucks will get free range.” I
smiled at him. The most important thing right now was to get back
to business as usual. “As soon as we get paid, the guys will see I
can make them money. Everything will go back to normal. We’ll be a
family again.”
Vic nodded with a gleam in his eye. He’d come back after ten
years because he missed his home, his family. He’d do anything to
get it all back. “The city council is one thing. You also need the
streets.”
“I know. I already reached out to a couple of bosses I think
might stand behind me.”
I kept picturing all of them circling my warehouses like vultures
keen on the fresh carcass on the ground. But they all had to see that
if the Rogue River crew fell, another would follow, and then another
until we were all in a full-on gang war. Keeping the status quo was
to everyone’s benefit.
“You have to consider they might ask for more than a
handshake.”
“What? Like protection money? I’m not doing that. Uncle Mickey
never had to do that. That’s why we have guns.”
“We don’t want a war, Mia.” He cleared his throat. “The bonds of
marriage are strong. No one would question your authority if you
were to marry someone with influence.”
“Are you shitting me right now? Is this some of that sound advice
you were talking about earlier? Because it sucks.” I paced the length
of the office. I got that our family business started a long time ago,
that it was based on a code invented by men. Hell, I was willing to
jump through hoops to prove my worth. But tethering myself to
some guy just to gain respect? That was a fucking insult. “This is a
fucking insult. Don’t bring it up again.”
 “Yes, Boss.” His tone implied I wasn’t boss yet.
I fisted my hands and spun in place, looking for my gun. When I
grabbed it off the desk, Vic shuffled away from me, his eyes wide.
“I’m not going to shoot you for speaking your mind. That’s why
you’re here.” Whoever started this idea that women were volatile
creatures should be shot. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Since I took
over, I had the strong urge to shoot every mofo who dared question
my ability to do business. I stuffed the gun in my pants and pulled
my tank top over it. “I’m going out. After this hell of a week, I need
a stiff drink.”
“Don’t stay out too late. If I get a meet with the councilor, it’ll be
before business hours.”
“Just text me the time.” I stomped out of the office.
In all these years I had fantasized about following in Uncle
Mickey’s footsteps and doing right by the family, I never considered
my own people wouldn’t want me. It hurt because I’d assumed I
was one of the guys.
I climbed into my red Porsche and drove out of the parking lot to
a bar at the edge of Rogue River. Most of my crew stayed away from
that dive because it was too close to the next town and their visits,
more often than not, ended in a bar fight. They only came over
during the day to do business when necessary. This was another one
of my warehouses, managed by my best friend Allie.
I parked out front and strode in. The bartender smiled at me as
soon as she saw me. Allie was good company.
“Hey, lady boss.”
“Not you too.”
She shrugged. “That’s what they’re calling you.”
“I’d take it if they meant it.”
She chuckled and poured my drink: vodka, soda, lime. “Just last
week, you weren’t even on the radar. Girl, take it.”
Of course, Allie was right. This pity party of one wasn’t helping
anyone. I sipped from my glass and waited for the alcohol to work
its magic. “Sorry. Rough week. Had five of my guys go off on their
own.”
“Oh, Mia, I’m sorry. You should expect deserters, though.”
 “Jeez. That would’ve been better. No, they went around town and
broke into several homes. Jesus, they terrorized and stole from the
same people we’re supposed to protect. What the hell were they
thinking? That I’d just let them?” Acid swirled at the pit of my
stomach. I should’ve shot at least one of them in the leg to make an
example out of him.
“What are you going to do?”
“The only thing I can do. Keep the business going. We’re on in
two weeks. You still in?”
She nodded and poured another two seconds of vodka into my
glass. “You have the keys. You know where everything is.”
“Thanks.”
Allie offered me a warm smile until her gaze moved from mine to
someone behind me. Then she beamed as if she’d just had the come
of her life. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him. Or did I? I
looked again. Shit. I did a double take on a stranger. I covered the
side of my face and concentrated on my drink. Honestly, I’d been
dealing with man-children all week. I didn’t need this at my oasis
too.
In my peripheral vision, long fingers braced the edge of the
counter. A voice something like warm honey ordered a bourbon neat.
Had I seen that face right? I had a feeling I knew him, but at the
same time I was sure he wasn’t from around here. I knew everyone
in town. A guy like that stood out. Allie poured his drink, biting her
bottom lip, which looked very creepy because she couldn’t stop
smiling.
“Thank you.” The guy sat and took a long swig of his drink. He
raked a hand through his hair. A few dark tresses rebelled and fell
back on his cheek.
“As much as I hate to say this”—Allie leaned on the bar—“it’s last
call.”
I’d seen that look on her face many times. She was taking this
guy home. A part of me wished I could do the same. But my old life,
my freedom, all that was gone. Or it needed to be gone. As Uncle
Mickey used to say, love would get you killed. In the end, greed got
him killed, but I still thought there was truth in his words. Not that I
was planning on falling for this guy who I’d seen a total of two
seconds. Thing was, I couldn’t fall for anyone at all, or they’d end up
dead, like Mom.
I knew being the lady boss would take some adjusting. Backing
down wasn’t an option for me. If that meant I couldn’t take a
gorgeous guy home with me, so be it. I could be like Queen
Elizabeth I and swear off men. Sipping my drink, I settled in my
barstool to watch Allie flirt and work her thing on this guy.
“No problem. I’ll cash out.” He stood and dug into the front
pocket of his dark pants. Dark dress shirt, dark hair, dark stubble on
a chiseled jaw, and steel blue eyes. Dammit, why did I look?
Don’t smile.
He smiled at me — all straight, white teeth, and full lips. “Would
you put her drink on my tab?”
“No, thanks. I can pay for my own alcohol.”
He put up his hands and flashed me a grin. “Okay, no drinks.”
His gaze met mine, and I pulled another newbie mistake. I
looked. I tried not to, but my eyes dropped to the pecs showing just
above the first button of his shirt.
Allie placed a couple of dirty glasses in the dishwasher behind the
bar, then took off her apron. She poured me another cocktail and
winked.
His deep voice boomed a barstool away as he leaned toward
Allie. “How come she gets another drink and I don’t?”
“She works here, honey.” Allie surveyed his face. After several
beats, she shook her head and served him another bourbon. “On the
house.”
She stalked around the counter and hugged me. “I’m taking one
for the team today. He’s all yours. Don’t ever say I don’t get you
shit.”
I barked out a laugh. “I’m good. I was gonna go home anyway.”
“You have the key.” She raised an eyebrow and pressed her lips
to my ear. “Lock the door behind you.”
“That wasn’t the point for giving me access,” I called after her.
“It is tonight.” With a quick wave and sigh directed at the
stranger, who looked as confused as I was, she went out the front
door.
My body jerked when I glanced around the bar. We were alone.
How’d that happen? I had to get out of here. The last thing I needed
was a new friend. New friends came with a bunch of complications. I
had plenty of those. I had a crew to run, and no time for beautiful
strangers.
“I have to walk you out.” I gestured for him to leave the bar.
“You’re not even going to ask my name?” He stood, and his tall
frame oozed confidence and something else I recognized as danger.
“Nope.”
“What’s your name?”
I shook my head. On a normal day, I’d give him my name, flirt,
or maybe I’d check to see if that chest was as muscled as it looked.
But my life was on south of normal these days. Think Queen
Elizabeth I.
“Okay. No names.” He glared at the front door, then turned his
attention to me. “I had a rough day, week, if I’m being honest.
Would you mind if I finished my bourbon?”
I glanced back at the bar. We both had fresh drinks. “I suppose
that’s harmless enough.”
“Thanks.”
We sat in silence, sipping from our glasses. My gaze darted over
to him every time he moved, when his finger tapped on the counter,
when he licked his lips, when his legs slid down the stool until his
feet were fully planted on the wooden floor.
“What happened to you? Female problems or work stuff?”
He shifted toward me, and I did the same. “So talking about
work problems is safe, but not names.”
“Something like that.” I should have left ten minutes ago.
“Work stuff. I got passed over for a job I wanted.” He shrugged
as if it didn’t sting anymore, though the gloom that lingered in his
blue eyes said otherwise. That was something I could relate to.
Someone literally had to die for me to get the job I wanted.
“And you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
 “The way you’re clinging to that drink suggests you also had a
hell of a day. Week?”
I raised my hand. “Week.”
He offered me a kind smile. “Want to talk about it?”
I did my best not to melt off my seat. “I got the job I wanted last
week. But my subordinates seem to be on a mission to see me fail.”
I attempted a smirk, but it quickly turned into a frown. That was the
crux of it. My own people, my family, wanted to see me fail. Or
rather, they wanted to see me not try at all.
“I’m sorry to hear that. People can be assholes sometimes.”
“I say cheers to that.” I tapped his glass with mine, and we both
drank.
My gut told me this was a bad idea. Not listening to my gut was
also a bad idea. I braced my hands on the bar and pushed myself off
the stool. He watched me with expectant eyes, as if he wanted me
to leave.
I went for honesty. “Bad timing.”
He nodded, sucking air through his teeth. “Same. Otherwise, I
would beg you to stay.”
The electric shock his words infused through my body set me
right. I walked backward several steps, and he advanced a single
one. Technically, I was walking him out, but his slow gait felt more
as if he were chasing me out the door.

One-click ESCAPE YOU now!!

The binge reading continues!

Don't miss out on this suspenseful and seductive series.

Unravel You, Book 1 (Derek and Valentina)

Provoke You, Book 2 (Matt and Ela)
Escape You, Book 3 (Tyler and Mia)
Unleash You, Book 4 (Wesley and Anabelle)
Defy You, Book 5 (Zack and Rebecca)
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Miss Forbes might pleasantly have answered Karl, that the
ceremony to which he objected is a conventionalized expression of
the regard men have for women. “You love your mother, don’t you?
She does more for you that you can repay, doesn’t she? Now, all
other right-minded boys and men feel the same way about their
mothers. And so they all agreed, a long time ago, that they would pay
this mark of respect to women.”
This explanation would serve very well for the school, but it would
be wise to have a private talk with Karl and explain to him more fully
the considerations that underlie all chivalrous customs. Put upon a
basis of rationalized justice, the custom of hat-raising will win hearty
support from Karl, but as a mere matter of unexplained tradition it
makes no appeal whatever to him.

COMMENTS

We have here a case where the love of approbation, strong enough

in the average child to be used in fixing a good habit, does not
function. Karl does not care enough for the approbation of parents,
teacher or friends to make him do a thing not approved by his
reason. The incident is inserted here because it is exceptional and
illustrates the occasional case in which the love of approbation can
not be used as an incentive. As a rule, the love of approval, of being
considered “a gentleman” or “a little lady,” is strong enough to give
all the motivation necessary for teaching good manners.

ILLUSTRATION (EIGHTH GRADE)

Miss Hendrickson taught in the town of Ridgeway, where the

leading industries were carried on in factories of various kinds.
Nearly all the parents worked in some one of these. Naturally, with
their long hours of work, these parents had little time for such
secondary matters as polishing their children’s manners. Most of
them were thankful if they could feed the hungry youngsters and
provide a place where they could sleep.
 Miss Hendrickson soon became aware that the matter of teaching
good manners devolved upon her exclusively. She also felt that a
direct attack upon the rude customs of her pupils would be less
effective than indirect procedure, since refined manners in this
particular community usually resulted in having the scornful epithet,
“Stuck-up!” attached to the possessor of said manners.
After careful deliberation, Miss Interest in
Hendrickson decided to take advantage of Manners
the story period in laying the foundation for more explicit teaching of
manners later. Accordingly, she began the story of the feudal system
and the institution of chivalry that sprang from it, a story always
appealing to seventh and eighth grade pupils. She told how the
feudal lord had to build strong castles for the safety of his family in
those days of warfare. She vividly portrayed life in the castle, and
showed how women also often had to do brave, daring acts in
defending the castle when the husband was away. She explained how
little boy pages were trained to wait on the ladies of the castle and to
be polite to them, and how, when these same boys were older and
became knights their highest duty was to protect these women who
had few neighbors and who were shut up much of the time in the
castles because it was unsafe to go abroad, and how the women
returned this care by making the homecoming a very happy time for
the lords and husbands whenever they came back from war. As the
story progressed from day to day, Miss Hendrickson developed the
thought that this sort of life in the castle gradually changed in many
ways the ideals and habits of the people. Poetry and music, for other
than religious purposes, began to be written and sung, and the rude
people who had formerly laughed at refinement in manners as
something effeminate and unsuited to a warrior, began to realize
after a while that a man could be brave and strong, yet at the same
time be gentle and polite toward women and toward all who were
weaker or more dependent than himself. So, in time, the lords began
to vie with each other to see who could be most polite or who could
render the greatest service to his lady.
Chivalry sprang up, and, indeed, died out, many hundreds of years
ago, yet it still has an influence over us, for we still use the term lady,
not meaning now, exclusively, the wife of a lord, but any woman who
is worthy of our respect. And a chivalrous man is still a man who is
polite to women, and who always springs to their defense whenever
they need protection. Gentlemen in those days meant a lord or
someone of high birth. But such men had more refined manners than
had the other people, or serfs, as they were called, having been
trained in chivalry; and today we use the term in this country to
mean any man who has fine manners.
Of course Miss Hendrickson told the story very much more in
detail than has been done here. She dwelt upon phases which she
knew would strongly appeal to the children and illustrated them with
many pictures borrowed from the library. She had the children bring
in baskets of stones from the river bank and asked two of the boys
who had the most offensive manners to build a miniature castle on
the sand table. She read a few of the poems sung by the minnesingers
and troubadours, and the oath which the squires must take before
they could be dubbed knights.
All this time Miss Hendrickson had said very little about the
personal manners of her pupils, but she had substituted a new ideal
regarding the desirability of good manners for the crude one
generally held by her pupils. She had made such manners seem
attractive, and thereafter when a child was about to do some act
which she could not approve, she would often say, “What would a
knight do, James, in such a case?” and many times the suggestion
was sufficient to induce the desired conduct.
7. Submitting to State Control

CASE 145 (EIGHTH GRADE)

The Longfellow School was situated in one of the most congested

foreign settlements of one of our largest and most cosmopolitan
cities. Very few of the parents of the pupils could speak any but the
most broken English. Many made no attempt to converse in the
difficult language of the strange new world to which they had come.
The board of education was particularly Saluting Flag
anxious that the children of these foreign
parents should be trained in appreciation of American institutions
and in reverence for the American Flag, with all it stands for. They
requested that all the national holidays should be made the occasion
of special programs to which parents should be invited and that each
afternoon when the schools were dismissed each pupil should salute
the flag both verbally and with the hand.
Most of the children entered into the custom without demur, but
one boy of fifteen, Hans Neuhaus, refused to give the salute.
“Hans, everyone is expected to give the salute,” said his teacher,
William Hoover. “Once more, now.” Still Hans remained silent.
“Hans, I wish you to give the salute with the others.”
“I don’t believe in saluting the flag,” said Hans. “It isn’t my flag,
anyhow. I’m not going to salute that flag.”
“Hans, you must salute it,” said the now exasperated teacher. “The
board requires it, and if you do not obey we can not have you in this
school.”
“All right, then. I’ll go,” and Hans cooly took his books from his
desk and walked out.
Three days later, as Hans did not reappear at the school, he was
arrested for truancy and taken before the juvenile court. Under the
coercion of the court he was made to return to the school and to give
the daily salutes.

CONSTRUCTIVE TREATMENT

Try a roundabout way of getting at Hans’ difficulty. For a little

while, at least, appear not to notice that he is not joining with others.
Meanwhile, in the story period, or in the history class study, in a
simple and interesting way, tell the history of the flag and the
principles for which it stands. Imagine yourself in Hans’ place—that
is, that you are a foreigner in a strange land, and that it is the flag of
another country that you are asked to salute. What considerations
would make you willing to do it? When this question is answered in
your own mind, then set out to win the allegiance of Hans.
Keep watch on the playground to see if some of Hans’ hostility has
not been caused by unkind teasing on the part of other children.

COMMENTS
 Only the outward form of loyalty can be brought about by force.
Mr. Hoover forgot that only an intelligent understanding and
appreciation can be the basis of true loyalty, and these require time
in which to develop. He should be more concerned, then, in the
conditions favorable to a steady growth of these attitudes than about
mere compliance to outward, conventional form. Saluting the flag
and honoring the flag may be two quite different acts.

ILLUSTRATION (THIRD GRADE)

Miss Beardsley, of the Lincoln School in Honoring the

Newport, taught her class, by many little Flag
talks and allusions to venerate the ideals of the national flag rather
than the flag itself. “Only noble-hearted persons have a right to stand
under that flag,” she often said. Then, when some especially
praiseworthy act had been performed by any child during the day,
she would call that one forward to stand under the flag that was
gracefully draped in the corner of her school-room, while the others
gave the salute just before going home at the close of the day’s
session. The children soon began to vie with each other, in helping a
younger child, in being polite, keeping desks tidy—anything that
would especially entitle them to stand under the flag—the greatest
honor the teacher could confer. Thus the pupils learned to associate
true patriotism, so far as a young child could understand it, with the
symbol of state control.
8. Self-Regulation
(1) Wise choices in human relationships. Sooner or later in the life
of every normal child, the more or less arbitrary control of parent
and teacher must give way to self-regulation of conduct. Happy is
that boy or girl who has been unconsciously practiced in self-control
and wise choosing before that day comes when he no longer has a
wise counselor at hand in life’s startling emergencies.

CASE 146 (HIGH SCHOOLS)

 “Well, you’re going to the gayest place on the coast, and when you
come back in the fall I shall expect you to bring us some startling
ideas for our winter fun, Constance. Do see if you can’t pick up
something really new. We’ve done the same old thing so long, you
know! Well, goodbye. Have a good time!”
Miss Osgood stood on the platform and Choosing
waved her handkerchief to the Yule children Companions
and their delicate little mother, who were off for Greenwood Beach
for the month of August. The Yule young people were much flattered
by Miss Osgood’s attention, for she was a young matron in a very
fashionable private “finishing school” for young ladies. She was also
quite a favorite in the society outside of the school, as well as the
organizer of all the social functions within it. Constance, especially
(who at eighteen had just finished high school and would be “coming
out” next winter), thought she was a lucky girl to have Miss Osgood
notice her in such a way as to indicate that it would be possible for
her to suggest valuable ideas to Miss Osgood’s fertile mind. Inwardly
she resolved that if any startling ideas were floating around at
Greenwood Beach, she would bring them back and lay them at Miss
Osgood’s feet. Her brother Clarence, a sophomore at college; Helen,
who was a high school sophomore, and Kenyon, just finishing
grammar school, were as eager as Constance for good times; but
Constance was the leader, and as her mother was not strong enough
thoroughly to oversee her children’s lives, Constance led the others
in whatever they did.
“Oh, you dear—it’s so lucky you came tonight!” one of her friends
gushed, as they entered the hotel which was to be their temporary
home, late Saturday afternoon. “We’re planning a coaching party for
all day tomorrow, and need two more to make up the party. Won’t
you and your brother go?”
Constance reflected. She knew her mother, who was at the desk
arranging for rooms, would want them to go to church the next day,
and to rest after the long trip. Still, going to church and resting gave
one no startling ideas, and it was certainly not having “a good time.”
So she consented, and later cajoled her reluctant mother into a
grudging consent.
Having started out with the idea of social gayety rather than of rest
and recreation, Constance soon became a leader in the gayest life at
the hotel. She even planned the champagne supper at the old sailors’
tavern, which was written up in the New York papers. Her old
friends, the wholesome girls with whom she had tramped and gone
swimming in previous summers, soon found that she had no time for
them, and began to avoid her. The month resolved itself, for her and
Clarence and Helen, into a feverish rush of engagements. Constance
came home in September tired and sophisticated, but full of those
sensational ideas that Miss Osgood had said she wanted. She met
Miss Osgood at a tea before long, and hoping to gain her notice and
become her companion, she regaled the ladies present with a lively
account of her summer’s gayety.
After she had gone, there was a little silence. Then Miss Osgood
said to the other women:
“Isn’t it a pity the Greenwood Beach should have spoiled
Constance so? She was such a sweet girl last summer, and now she
seems like a jaded old society belle, and a belle not too particular as
to her companions at that. I suppose she’ll be the rage this winter,
but I shall rather steer clear of her.”

CONSTRUCTIVE TREATMENT

Constance’s case calls for the application of the principles of

suggestion and of initiative in coöperation. See to it that no young
person who has been under your influence for a period of months or
years goes to a new and different world without trying to indicate to
that person how he or she may get the best rather than the worst out
of the novel experience. A little conversation as to the purpose of the
trip, a few suggestions as to the interesting places that may be
visited, a little reading together of the historical or other literature
connected with the new field, a helpful word as to how the trip may
be made beneficial to the friends who are not fortunate enought to
enjoy such pleasures, may give direction to ambitions which
otherwise will expend themselves upon unworthy ends.

COMMENTS
 Girls and boys in the adolescent period are possessed of so many
conflicting ideals that they may be turned in any one of half a dozen
directions at a psychological moment. Just at the time when
Constance was feeling very grown up, and was looking forward to a
very vivid experience of some kind, Miss Osgood thoughtlessly
dropped the suggestion which colored all of Constance’s thoughts
and acts during her vacation. Instead of trying to gain Miss Osgood’s
approbation she should have spent her month in growing strong and
brown in the open air, in helping to make the life at the hotel simple
and wholesome and health-building; but Miss Osgood’s influence all
went the other way.
It is important that even chance acquaintances watch their casual
injunctions to young people, not only because they may have so
much more influence than they dream, but also because they may
speak at a time when the mind of the hearer is peculiarly sensitive to
suggestion.

ILLUSTRATION (HIGH SCHOOL)

Dodge Monroe was changing from the A Wise Choice

East High School to the Sidney Lanier,
because his parents were moving farther out in the suburbs. A few
nights before they left for their new home, the Claytons gave the
Monroes a farewell dinner, and Dodge, much to his delight, was
included in the invitation. It was his first dinner party, and in his
new Tuxedo he felt very grown up and manly.
Over the salad Mr. Clayton turned to Dodge, who was beginning to
feel a bit left out of the grown people’s conversation.
“And you change now to the Sidney Lanier High School?” he
inquired.
“Yes, sir. I start there next Monday.”
“I know they’re sorry to lose you in the East, but you’ll make an
equally good record in Sidney Lanier. And it must be an inspiration
to any boy to attend a school named after such a man. He could
hardly be unworthy, having such an example of manhood always
before him.”
 Dodge knew nothing about Sidney Lanier, but this aroused his
curiosity, and on Sunday afternoon he went to the branch library and
read up on Sidney Lanier. As the details of that brave and beautiful
life became real to him, he found himself measuring his own
character by the standard of Lanier’s. He took out Lanier’s “Boy’s
Froissart” to read.
That week he met dozens of new boys. Being frank and strong, he
was liked at once, and many acquaintances offered. Some of the boys
seemed all that boys should be; others, he knew, his mother would
not approve as his friends. This thought came to him:
“Back at East I’d just grown up with the fellows, and knew
everybody. Here there’s a bigger school, and I can’t know them all.
I’ll have to choose. If I’m trying to make myself like Sidney Lanier,
why not try some such test in regard to the fellows?”
This is what Dodge did, more or less consciously. Mr. Clayton’s
admiration for a fine man, expressed in the most casual way, had a
determining effect upon Dodge’s character.
(2) Religious attitudes. If regulation of conduct between man and
man must become eventually a matter of individual choosing, in a
still higher degree must religious attitudes become an issue for self-
regulation. The teacher’s problem, then, is to throw about the pupil a
social environment which shall stimulate the pupil’s highest ideals,
but yet without encroaching upon his individual liberty and
responsibility.

CASE 147 (HIGH SCHOOL)

Mr. Grey was distressed at the lack of church-going in the little

town to which he had come as principal. A very religious man
himself, he never missed a service and never failed to find
satisfaction and help in one, no matter how unprofitable it might
seem to others. When, therefore, he observed that few of his high
school pupils attended the village church, he resolved to talk to them
about it.
“I want to talk to you about a matter Going to Church
which is far more important to you than
your education,” he began “Education will fit you to do your part well
in this world, but religion teaches you about the world to come, and
is, therefore, more valuable to you, since eternity so far transcends
time. I am here to train your minds, but unless you go to church your
souls, which are far more important than your minds, have no
training at all. ‘What doth it profit a man, if he gain the whole world
and lose his own soul?’ Right now, while you’re young, you ought to
be forming church-going habits, even if you don’t care for church.
You’ll get used to it, and even come to like it in time, if you don’t at
first.”
There was more of the same sort of appeal, to all of which Mr.
Grey’s pupils listened politely, for they respected him highly, but
none of which seemed to swell the church attendance on Sunday.
Although he succeeded in other respects, in this one matter Mr. Grey
had to acknowledge that his efforts led nowhere.

CONSTRUCTIVE TREATMENT

Let the appeal for church attendance, like many others, be based
on interest. All young people like company, action, color and music;
therefore, most little children like Sunday School, but when they
reach an age at which the church does not offer them these
inducements, they are likely to stop unless kept in by family
influence. Make your appeal according to the age of your pupils and
their tastes.

COMMENTS

Mr. Grey talked to his pupils of things they knew little or nothing
about. This world is very real to the young; the next world is very
shadowy and hypothetical. The only persons whom Mr. Grey’s appeal
would reach would be those pupils who had been brought up with
religious training—i. e., the children who would not need it. In
separating education and religion, time and eternity, mind and soul,
he used outworn and abandoned conceptions of things, foreign alike
to modern thoughts and to pupils’ knowledge. In assuming that they
would not like it at first, he frightened them away from the duty
urged upon them.

ILLUSTRATION (HIGH SCHOOL)

Mr. Tate, teaching also in one of the small towns in which church-
going was out of fashion, said to his boys and girls:
“Mr. Corithers told me that he was going Correlate Church
to preach about Phœnician ships next and School
Sunday. I wondered how he could make a sermon out of that subject,
but he wouldn’t tell me. As we’ve just been studying about this
matter, I suggest that we all hear this sermon Sunday, and then we’ll
discuss it Monday.”
He and Mr. Corithers had talked over ways and means, and had
together planned a series of sermons that should correlate with some
of the school work being done. They planned to have simple and
dignified music, and talk little about eternity until the young people
had been led far enough in the spiritual life to know they had souls.
The services, concrete and beautiful, and the sermons, which were
planned to reach their hearers, were attended and enjoyed by Mr.
Tate’s pupils.
Mr. Tate did not urge his pupils to go to church without a
conviction that they should do so, and a knowledge that they would
hear something they could understand. He and the minister planned
earnestly and well to get results, and won.

CASE 148 (PRIVATE SCHOOL)

“Well, what do you think of the girls by this time?” The kindly old
president looked hard at Miss Swallow, who had just finished her
second month as a teacher in a girls’ private school.
“I think they are lovely girls, and I like to work with them,” she
replied. “With one exception, they could hardly be better.”
“With one exception? And what is that?”
Time for Bible
 “The matter of piety. This is a church school, and yet I feel a real
lack of a spirit of devotion among the girls. When I visit their rooms,
I see all sorts of books in evidence except the Bible. When I attend
the Y. W. C. A. meetings, it seems to me that most of the girls give
evidence of a very superficial sort of religious experience.”
“What you say is true. I have often thought of it myself. But what
can we do? I urge the girls not to neglect their spiritual interests, in
chapel. And every Lent we have special meetings.”
“I’ll study the situation a little and tell you what I think about it,
Dr. Dayton.”
“Do, please. I am anxious to better things if I can.”
In a few days Miss Swallow was back in the president’s office.
“I think I’ve found the reason for the trouble,” she said, “and the
remedy is simple. We expect our girls to grow strong here, and so
provide them a gymnasium and a tennis court, and give them time
for exercise. We expect them to eat, and provide a meal time; we
expect them to sleep, and make them put out their lights and go to
bed. But we expect them to cultivate the spiritual life without
providing any special time for it. There is not even a five-minute
period for devotions and quiet during the day.”
“But girls say their prayers and read their Bibles at night, don’t
they?”
“Yes, if they do it at all. They do it when they are tired with the
long day’s work and play, and their attention is not particularly
drawn to it by any stipulated time set aside for devotions. I think we
should emphasize our idea of the importance of devotions by giving
it time during the day.” She outlined a plan, and they agreed to try it
in the winter term.
They provided a fifteen-minute “quiet time” just before breakfast,
which every girl was expected to use in meditation and prayer. After
a time they changed it to fifteen minutes after breakfast, before
classes began; this worked much better. Girls who had never given
any time to devotions now found a time provided, and a lack of
distractions which suggested a compliance with the expectation.
Girls who had always wanted to, but could never find time, now
began systematically to study the New Testament or the “Imitation.”
There was no compulsion about it, but the suggestion of the definite
provision for the cultivation of the inner life bore abundant fruit in
lives made gracious by its growth.

CASE 149 (HIGH SCHOOL)

Mr. Horne had won the respect and Religious

devotion of the high school boys by his Perplexities
efficient and conscientious coaching of the athletic teams. Therefore,
it was not strange that one of the boys, Donald Hope, came to him
one day after school, and, after much hesitation, plunged into a
discussion of religious faith.
“Now, our minister says we ought to believe,” he said, “and I don’t
see how we’re to believe a thing that we never saw or felt or heard,
but that people just tell us is so. It isn’t scientific. I don’t want to be
wicked, you know—he says you’re condemned if you don’t believe;
but how’s a person to believe when he doesn’t?”
Mr. Home was greatly puzzled by this question, and much
troubled as well. He hardly knew whether to attempt to answer it or
not; finally, he decided he would better not.
“You ask Mr. Curtis about it, Donald,” he said. (Mr. Curtis was the
minister whose teaching Donald had reported.) “You see, I’m a
public school teacher, and we are not allowed by law to teach
religion. Besides, I’ve never thought much about such matters, and I
might tell you wrong.”
Donald went away with a heavy heart. Mr. Home was the one
person in whom he had faith enough to take to him this big and
serious question, and he had failed him. He did not think for a
moment of going to Mr. Curtis, who was elderly and inclined to be
dogmatic. He resolved to wait until chance might bring him an
explanation of his difficulties.

CONSTRUCTIVE TREATMENT

“Never fail to help where help is needed.” Even if giving help

involves research into new fields, this is a good ideal for teachers to
live up to.
 Mr. Horne, finding himself unable to help Donald, should have
promised him at least to think about the matter, and the two might
have discussed it freely and in sympathetic sharing of a difficulty
which most people have faced at some time or other.

COMMENTS

There is nothing unlawful or wrong in helping students with their

personal difficulties, religious or otherwise, if this is done outside the
classroom and outside of school hours. On the other hand, it is a very
serious thing indeed to fail to help a human being who needs help.
The rationalizing of faith is not so insuperable a difficulty as it
appears to be when one first faces it. There are a number of books
dealing with the question, and these Mr. Horne might have found
and read, both for his own sake and for Donald’s. The whole
structure of civilization is built on faith, and religious faith is but a
higher form of that which children have in their parents or pupils in
teachers.

CASE 160 (HIGH SCHOOL)

She was an anemic-looking girl of fifteen, Saintly Recluse

her pretty brown hair pulled tightly back
and braided with Puritanic neatness, her thin little body clad in the
most severe of gingham frocks. Miss Corliss noticed her the first day,
noted her letter-perfect recitation in English and her aloofness from
the other students, and wondered what her story was.
In a few days the Juniors came to Miss Corliss for advice and help
in planning their fall frolic. When they came to the business of
assigning committees, she made a special plea that Susan should be
given some work to do, as she wanted to see her on friendlier terms
with her classmates.
“Susan White? Oh, she’ll never have anything to do with the
parties. She thinks they’re wicked. She stays at home and reads the
Bible all the time, Miss Corliss.”
 “But if you ask her, won’t she help with the work and come to the
party?”
“No, Miss Corliss, we’ve tried it. We used to invite her but she
always turned us down, and now we don’t bother. Her mother is kind
of crazy about religion, I guess, and Susan is growing to be just like
her.”
Miss Corliss talked to Susan and found her sweetly frank about her
views. She was in no sense “crazy,” but she had been led to a piety
unusual in one so young, through the influence of her widowed
mother, who had found consolation for bereavement in extreme
devotion. Susan, feeling it her duty to devote herself to her mother,
had gladly denied herself the usual pleasures of youth and found real
joy in her asceticism.
“What can you do for her?” the principal, Mr. Waiting, asked.
“Do for her? I shall not do anything for her—she doesn’t need
anything done for her. She is not abnormal; she is only unusual. She
is one of the happiest girls in school, but she is one of the occasional
people, very occasional nowadays, who find their whole happiness in
a very personal, mystic type of religious service. To try to make her
over to be like the other girls would be a great mistake.”
“But this isn’t the age of the religious recluse, you know.”
“Yes, I know. That’s why one mustn’t interfere with them. If she
were living in the time of Saint Francis or of Jonathan Edwards, I
should suspect that her saintliness was copied from a model too
often urged upon her. As it is, she keeps to her mysticism and
asceticism in spite of every suggestion to the contrary here at school.
I shall watch her for signs of unhealthfulness, but as yet I don’t see
any. She has as much right, you know, to develop her talent for
religious devotion as Stanley Brand has to develop his for
mechanics.”
“I never thought of it in that light. Well, probably you’re right,
only, as you say, be on the lookout for signs of a pathological
development.”

COMMENTS
 Miss Corliss is to be commended for her attempt to interest
Susan’s classmates in her behalf. It is unfortunate, however, that she
dropped the matter upon learning that Susan herself preferred to be
left out of their sport. There is no incompatibility between innocent
fun and a devoted religious life. To sacrifice entirely the one is to
make the other onesided in its development. Sunshine as well as
shadow is necessary for healthy growth in any of the higher types of
life.
Susan’s habit of isolating herself from her associates might easily
become so fixed as greatly to injure her future prospects in life.
Coöperation, rather than isolation, is to be the watchword of the
future and ability to coöperate with one’s fellows can be learned only
through actual experience—an experience that Susan was failing to
get.
Finally, Susan’s own physical health required a more vigorous and
varied type of life. It is highly significant that the account, as it comes
to us, describes Susan as anemic. This pathological condition of the
body was undoubtedly, in part at least, both cause and effect of
Susan’s mental attitude—one by no means to be encouraged to the
exclusion of all recreative activities. If not strong enough to indulge
in the more vigorous sports of her classmates, Susan should at least
be led to feel it incumbent upon herself to share in such activities as
did not tax her strength too severely.
 DIVISION IX

He’s armed without that’s innocent within.

—Pope.
 CASES ARISING OUT OF SEX INSTINCTS

The issues that gather around sex interests of children and young
people are numerous, vexatious and unceasingly important.
A sane teacher does not disclose a morbid concern in sex affairs,
neither does he avoid dealing with insistent problems. In fact, he
proceeds much as does a sympathetic father with his son or
daughter.
Naturally any effective disciplinary measures must be supported
by accurate information as to the nature of sex life and sex actions of
children. The administrator must know a great deal more than he
tells; he is never to be surprised by disclosures of sexual misconduct.
1. Objectionable Games—Unconscious Sex Attraction

CASE 151 (EIGHTH GRADE)

Prof. Walsh, principal of Burrell High “Three Deep”

School, observed his pupils playing a game
called “Three Deep.” This game, played by the boys and girls together
and calling for choices of confederates to be made, seemed to him to
lead to romance and he therefore talked against it. He finally
demanded that the pupils quit playing this game altogether.
Attaching more importance to the game than it really merited, the
pupils played it all the more after school hours.

CONSTRUCTIVE TREATMENT

Mr. Walsh should have led the pupils to enjoy another game and
should have said nothing about the one he disliked. Having decided
upon what to substitute for this one he should say: “I know of a game
I believe you will all enjoy. I will show you how it is played.” To
insure enthusiasm in the new play he should speak to two or three of
the leaders among the pupils, a day or two before the game is
introduced, saying, “I know of a fine game that I think we ought to
play here; as soon as I find time I will teach it to you. You are quick
to see into a new proposition, so I want you to help me get it started
as soon as you understand how it is played.”

COMMENTS

By the enlistment of the interest of several pupils you are more

likely to make a success of your new game. If pupils have plenty of
chance to play together in wholesome activities they will be much
more likely to take a matter-of-fact view of association with opposite
sexes than if their attention is called to the harmful qualities of a
game and they are then asked to stop playing it. The forbidden is
alluring to high school pupils and to young children alike. Therefore,
without reference to the often-played game, the teacher should
substitute a better one in its place.

ILLUSTRATION 1 (HIGH SCHOOL)

In the gymnasium of the Bradley High Prize Athletics

School the students introduced social
dancing during intermissions. Mr. Burgess, the principal, understood
well the favorable attitude of some of his patrons toward dancing.
He, therefore, as a counter attraction, organized two athletic clubs in
the school, one for girls and one for boys.
He offered small prizes to the best shot-putter, runner, walker,
vaulter, etc., the prizes to be given in the following May on a field
day, the gate receipts of which would pay for the prizes. The girls
were offered prizes in archery, tennis and croquet and were asked to
train two opposing baseball teams selected from their numbers.
Field day was a grand success. The health of the pupils had been
conserved and nobody but Mr. Burgess himself knew the real reason
why the clubs had been organized.

ILLUSTRATION 2 (HIGH SCHOOL)

Kissing Games
 The small high school at Lexington had fallen into the deplorable
habit of playing kissing games during intermissions. Mr. Poe, the
principal, decided to turn the attention of the students into a less
dangerous and disgusting channel. He decided upon asking the
pupils to help beautify the school grounds and buildings.
He appointed two seniors to choose sides, so that every pupil in
the high school would be on one side or the other. He then assigned
the north half of the buildings and grounds to one side. On fine days
they raked, mowed, planted flowers and vines, placed shrubs, etc., on
stormy days they planned interior decorations. At the close of the
school year a committee from the town not only decided which side
had done best work, but declared that the pupils had gained much
practical knowledge and that the schoolhouse and grounds had never
looked so well before.
2. Sex Consciousness
It is toward the end of the second year that boys often begin to
show tendencies toward evil habits. This tendency does not appear
because the boys of themselves grow bad at this time; it is a matter of
imitation. In the country school the younger pupils come in contact
with older boys who lead them into evil, and the same is true in
villages and cities. It might be that could the growing boy never come
into association with evil it would not become the teacher’s necessity
to use the fundamental principles in such a way as to hold the boy’s
confidence. It cannot be denied that if he has the confidence of the
boys he can control them. No problem, however, requires greater
wisdom in the handling.

CASE 152 (SECOND GRADE)

Miss Marlowe, the second grade teacher Sex Hygiene

at High Falls, had noticed by Charlie
Moncrief’s nervousness, his sometimes vacant stare, and his frequent
misuse of his hands, that he needed to be taught on the subject of sex
hygiene, but she did not know how best to bring about such
instruction. So she kept up a continual corrective set of admonitions
like the following:
“Charlie, be quiet and listen to this story.”