“I wasn’t crying for nothing. I was crying over my conscience.”
“What has your conscience been doing?”
“Pricking,” the girl answered frankly. “I hate to be nasty to people; but now and then I am driven into it.”
“Mr. Barth?”
“Yes, Mr. Barth,” Nancy assented, with an accent of finality. “Now go on with your lecture.”
The Lady laughed.
“Really, Nancy, you sometimes take away even my Canadian breath. I can imagine that you leave Mr. Barth gasping.”
“Mr. Barth would gasp in a stilly vacuum,” Nancy replied tranquilly.
“Very likely. It is possible that you might do likewise. But to my point. Was it quite fair, Nancy, to encourage the boy to talk about the Sainte Anne-de-Beaupré episode, and then snub him, the next time he alluded to it?”
“Did he tell you any such tale as that?” Nancy demanded, in hot wrath.