"There are many Christians who prefer tobacco," said Mrs. Yocomb, laughing.
"That reminds me," I exclaimed, "that I have not smoked to-day. I fear
I shall fall from grace to-morrow, however."
"Yes, I imagine you will drop from the clouds by tomorrow," Miss Warren remarked.
"By the way, what a magnificent cloud that is rising above the horizon in the southwest. It appears like a solitary headland in an azure sea."
"Ah—h!" she said, in satirical accent.
"Mrs. Yocomb, Miss Warren has been laughing at me ever since I came. I may have to claim your protection."
"No! thee and father are big enough to take care of yourselves."
"Emily Warren, is thee and Richard Morton both lost?" called Mr. Yocomb from the piazza. "I can't find mother either. If somebody don't come soon I'll blow the fish-horn."
"We're all coming," answered Mrs. Yocomb, and she led the way toward the house.
"You have not given me a rose yet," I said to Miss Warren.