The first creak of the rustic stair brought them all to the landing to greet her.
“Reconciliation,” shouted Nolan, before she was half-way up. “Miriam is home, and they have already lived happily ever after.”
Eveley began immediately to give an account of the day’s happenings standing motionless on the third step from the top until she finished her recital.
Then she went back down, and gave an impatient tap on the seventh stair.
“Well, you started something,” she said to it solemnly. “And you ought to be satisfied now, if anybody is. To-morrow I shall crown you with a wreath of laurel.”
Then she went up again. “Does this do anything to your theory about duty?” asked Nolan. “Does it prove it, or disprove it, or what? I can not seem to get any connection.”
“But there is a connection,” she said, with a smile. “It absolutely and everlastingly proves the Exception.”
“Eveley Ainsworth, don’t ever say exception again until you can explain it,” cried Nolan. “I dream of exceptions by night, and I legalize them by day. Be a nice girl, and do a good deed this Sabbath Day by expounding the virtues of the One Exception.”
But Eveley was hungry, and said she could not expound anything when her system clamored for tea.
Eveley’s Sabbath, however, was not yet ended. While she was blissfully sipping her tea, the three she loved best in the world about her, there came a gentle tap upon her window, and Mrs. Severs walked in.