In spite of herself Christine blushed, but taking Miss Brown by the arm she led her aside and gave her a vigorous lecture.
"Are you sane?" she said. "Do you not remember that nearly a thousand dollars' worth of tickets are sold, and that the people will be here by half-past eight, and at nine we must appear? Even after what he has done, if you should drive him away the thing would be a failure, and we should be the ridiculous town-talk for a year."
"But I hate—"
"No matter what you hate. Treat him as you please tomorrow. We need him now;" and so the petted, wilful girl, spoiled by money and flattery, was kept under restraint.
A great deal of preparation was required for the last two pieces on the programme, and the young ladies grouped themselves not far off while Dennis worked. Christine explained from time to time as the natural leader of the party. Still an awkward silence followed the scene above described. This restraint could not long endure, and one of the colorless young ladies asked a question that led to more than she intended, and indeed, more than she understood.
"Christine, what do you do with yourself Sundays? Your pew is not occupied once in an age."
"I usually paint most of the day, and ride out with papa in the afternoon when it is pleasant."
"Why, you are a perfect little heathen!" they all exclaimed in chorus.
"Yes, I suppose I am worse than a pagan," she said, "for I not only do not believe in your superstitions, but have none of my own."
"What do you believe in, then?" asked Miss Winthrop.