"But I'm going on Saturday," Uncle Alfred interposed.
"Saturday! And today's Thursday! Oh!"
"At least I think so," he said weakly.
Secretly she shook her head at him. "No, no," she signed, and said aloud, "A Sunday in the country—"
"No place of worship within four miles," Rupert announced.
"Ah," Uncle Alfred said with a gleam of humour, "that's distinctly cheering."
Miriam beat her hands together softly. "And yet," she said, "I've sometimes been to church for a diversion. Have you?"
"Never," he answered firmly.
"I counted the bald heads," she said mournfully, "but they didn't last out." She looked up and saw that Uncle Alfred was laughing silently: she glanced over her shoulder and saw Mildred Caniper's lips compressed, and she had a double triumph. This was the moment when it would be wise for her to go to bed. Like a dark flower, lifting itself to the sun, she rose from her knees in a single, steady movement.
"Good-night," she said with a little air. "And we'll have our walk tomorrow?"