"Why, Pauline, I am answering your questions correctly. Sir Thomas More professed to describe Utopia, which means No-place, and mentions a river Waterless. Don't look so desperately lofty. I will show you the book, if you are so incorrigibly stupid." He passed his arm round her as he spoke, and kept her close beside him.
"Mr. Lockhart, is he telling the truth?" cried she incredulously.
"Certainly he is," answered her stepfather, smiling.
"Oh, I don't believe either of you! You two think that I am simple enough to believe any absurdity you choose to tell me. Beulah, what is Utopia?"
"Just what your uncle told you. More used Greek words which signified nothing, in order to veil the satire."
"Oh, a satire! Now, what is the reason you could not say it was a satire, you wiseacre?"
"Because I gave you credit for some penetration, and at least common sense."
"Both of which I have proved myself devoid of, I suppose? Thank you." She threw her arms round his neck, kissed him once or twice, and laughingly added: "Come now, Uncle Guy, tell me what these 'phalanxes,' as you call them, have to do with Ernest's text?"
"I really cannot inform you. There is the dinner bell." Unclasping her arms, he led the way to the dining room.
Later in the afternoon Mr. Lockhart retired to his own room; his wife fell asleep on the sofa, and Beulah and Pauline sat at the parlor window, discussing the various occurrences of their long separation. Pauline talked of her future—how bright it was; how very much she and Ernest loved each other, and how busy she would be when she had a home of her own. She supposed she would be obliged to give up dancing; she had an indistinct idea that preachers' wives were not in the habit of indulging in any such amusements, and, as for the theater and opera, she rather doubted whether either were to be found in the inland town where she was to reside. Uncle Guy wished to furnish the parsonage, and, among other things, had ordered an elegant piano for her; she intended to practice a great deal, because Ernest was so fond of music. Uncle Guy had a hateful habit of lecturing her about "domestic affairs," but she imagined the cook would understand her own business; and if Mr. Mortimor supposed she was going to play housemaid, why, she would very soon undeceive him. Beulah was much amused at the childlike simplicity with which she discussed her future, and began to think the whole affair rather ludicrous, when Pauline started, and exclaimed, as the blood dyed her cheeks: