"Now, really and truly, girls, are you going to the early services this Lent? Oh, Mr. Selwyn is such a good man! and wasn't his pastoral letter beautiful? We really ought to go. But, girls, I can't get up—indeed, I can't; do you know, it's dreadful—seven o'clock—only think of it. You won't go, Eva?"
"Yes, I shall."
"I lay you a pair of gloves you won't, now," quoth a mouth, adorned with a long pair of waxed moustaches of a true Imperial type.
"See if I don't."
"Oh, mamma says I mustn't try," said another; "I haven't the strength."
"And I tell Eva she can't do it," said Mrs. Van Arsdel. "Eva is always over-doing; she worked herself to death in a mission class last year. The fact is, one can't do these things, and go into society."
"But what's the use of society, mamma?" said Eva.
"Oh, well; we can't all turn into monks and nuns, you know; and that's what these modern High Church doings would bring us to. I'm a good, old-fashioned Episcopalian; I believe in going to church on Sundays—and that's all we used to hear about."
"Do you know, Mr. Fellows, I saw you at St. Alban's," said Miss Alice.
"On your knees, too," said Miss Eva.