“Call her what you like, only don’t call her at all!” said the boy. “Say, doesn’t our sister look great though?”
So they sat quietly whispering, picking up bits of the conversation and thinking their wise young thoughts.
Mr. Copley’s face looked rested and happy.
“My! I wish my wife were at home,” he said wistfully. “You know she’s been very sick, and she’s away getting a rest. But we hope she’ll soon be back with us before many months now. How she would enjoy it to have you run in like this! She’s a great church woman, and she felt it, coming away from the church we have always attended over on the other side of the town——”
Then the talk drifted to the little church around the corner, and to its various organizations and activities.
“Father ’ll be after you for the choir,” confided the daughter to Carey; “a good tenor is a great find.”
“No chance!” said Carey, looking pleased in spite of himself. “I can’t sing.”
Then they all began to clamor for Carey to sing; and right in the midst of it there was another knock at the door, and in walked the carpenter and his wife.
Carey began to frown, of course; for, although he liked the carpenter, he felt that he was of another social class from the delicate young girl who sat by his side; but when he saw her rise and greet the carpenter’s wife as cordially as if she were some fine lady, his frown began to disappear again. This certainly was a peach of a girl, and no mistake. In fact, the whole family were all right. The minister was a prince. Just look at the way he took that carpenter by the hand, and made him feel at home.
The carpenter, however, didn’t seem to be troubled by embarrassment. He entered right into the conversation comfortably, and began to praise Cornelia Copley and her ability as an interior decorator; and before any one knew how it happened the company had started to see the dining-room and kitchen.