The echo of her words, however, struck Cherry as conveying an innuendo that the child did not mean. Crosses could hardly be wanting to one who had Alda for his wife; but happily no one else seemed to perceive it; and they drifted on from grave to gay, and gay back to grave, till it was time to return to the festival Evensong.
Clement and his friends had to hurry away to the station directly after. He would have put his three sisters into a cab, and sent it home with them; but Ferdinand insisted on squeezing his long limbs into durance and escorting them, to the tune of Angel's chatter and the clatter of the windows. Cherry was the first set down; and she went straight to the drawing-room, ready for interest and sympathy.
'How late you are!' said Alda.
'How did you come?' asked Marilda.
'In a cab. It is gone on with the little girls. We stayed for evening service. The lights were so beautiful!'
'Just what boys and girls run after,' said Mr. Underwood. 'I like my opera to be an opera, and my church to be a church.'
'Yes,' said Mrs. Underwood, 'staying out so late, and in the city. I don't half like such doings.'
'What could you have done between services?' added Alda. 'Were you at the clergy-house all day?'
'Of course they were,' said Mr. Underwood. 'Trust a curate to take care of a pretty girl. High or low, they are all alike.'
'No,' said Cherry, in blushing indignation; 'we had tea at Mr. Travis's.'