"Well, I suppose all you good people are going to the hall tonight? I suppose it is the best thing a fellow can do up here in this stupid town. Amateur acting! That will be something to see, I imagine. You'll go, I presume?" addressing the question to his sister-in-law, whom we have known as Louise Loring.
"I think not."
"Why not? Will it be any more stupid than staying at home?"
"I shall not stay at home."
"Where—oh, yes, I remember, it is Wednesday evening. That's your evening out," he said, laughing. "Well, there'll be time to go after. I presume the entertainment will last through the night. I'll wait for you. Or do you expect your husband will be home in time?"
"I do not expect him, and I should not go in any case. I never attend entertainments of that sort."
"Oh, but, Louise, this must be all right; at least two of your saintly sort are among the managers."
"I am sorry for that, Clarence, but it does not change my opinion."
As the rest of the family left the table, these two lingered, and Clarence said—
"Well, Louise, I'll tell you frankly I had begun to think there was something in this religion of yours, and to wish I had a little of it about me; but this upsets it all. I cannot feel any great confidence in a faith that makes so little difference in its disciples. I used to think I saw a great change in Duncan, and ever since that winter when he was converted, I have had a sort of wish that I had gone over to that side then. But nowadays, he seems very like the rest of us sinners."