"We went to see you on Friday like we said, and you were out," said Hattie severely.
"They changed the day and I had to go," from Emmy Lou. "I was at dancing school."
"Dancing school? Your Sunday school doesn't have pledges and you go to dancing school? Your church lets you go? Like Sally Carter's? And you didn't tell us?"
"My church might give up pledges if it had to," said Sadie, "but its foot is down on dancing."
Yet Hattie would be fair. "Your minister knows? What sort of dancing? What did you dance on Friday?"
"Our minister was there. It is the Sunday school that dances. We danced the Highland Fling."
The school bell rang.
"Well," said Hattie as she turned to go, "I'm Presbyterian."
Sadie bore witness as she turned to follow. "And I'm Methodist."
Emmy Lou lifted her buckler and drew her sword. Never dust in the eyes again. For she knew now what she was over and above being a St. Simeonite, having asked Aunt Cordelia. In this company it bore not only the odium of disapproval and the hall-mark of condemnation, but from the qualifying term applied to it by Aunt Cordelia would seem to merit both.