“Oh, yes, I prefer”—she stopped short. “Sunday is a busy day with us,” she said instead.
“Isn’t that dreadful?”
“Yes—it is distressing.” Without intention Emily put enough irony into her voice to make Evelyn look at her sharply. “It keeps me from church.”
“Well, sometimes I think I’d like to be kept from church.” Evelyn said this in a consolatory tone. “I’m a clergyman’s daughter and I have to go often—to set a good example.” She laughed. “Mamma is so nervous that she can only go occasionally and my brother Sam is a perfect heathen. But I often copy papa’s sermons. He says he likes my large round hand as a change from the typewriting. Then I like to listen and see how many changes he makes. You’d be surprised how much better it all sounds when it’s spoken—really quite new.”
Papa! Papa’s Sermons! And a Sam, probably as big as this great girl!
“Is your brother younger or older than you?”
“A year older. He’s at college now—or at least, he’s supposed to be. It’s surprising how little he has to stay there. He’s very gay—a little too wild, perhaps.”
She was proud of Sam’s wildness, full as proud as she was of her father’s sermons. She rattled cheerfully on until it was time for her to go and, as Emily and she were putting on their wraps at the same time, she kissed her impulsively, blushing a little, saying “You’re so beautiful. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind?” Emily laughed and kissed her. Evelyn wondered why there were tears in the eyes of this fascinating woman with the musical voice and the expression like a goddess of liberty’s.