Cordelia, who was taking off her shoes, looked up delightedly.
"Oh, Tilly—church? We're going to church?"
Tilly laughed; then an odd little twist came to her mouth.
"Yes, Cordelia; we're—going to church," she answered.
"What time?"
"Eleven o'clock, Genevieve said."
"Oh, won't that be fun—I mean, I'm very glad," corrected Cordelia, hastily, a confused red in her cheeks.
In Cordelia's bed that night, Cordelia thought happily:
"Maybe now I can get some new ideas for Uncle Thomas to put in his services. They do everything so differently here in the West, and Uncle's audiences get so small sometimes, specially Sunday evenings."
In Tilly's bed, Tilly, a little guilty as to conscience, was trying to excuse herself.