Mrs. Cary shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm sure I don't know," she said indifferently.
Beatrice sat back in her chair, for a moment silent. A faint smile moved the corners of her fine mouth.
"I fancy our conversation, if they heard it, would startle the unbearable Marut scandal-mongers," she said. "What do you say to a Bible-class on horseback?"
Mrs. Cary's small round eyes opened wide.
"A Bible-class?" she repeated suspiciously.
Beatrice nodded.
"Yes. I have been teaching him the rudiments of Christianity. It seems you must have neglected my education in that respect, for I have had to burn a good deal of midnight oil to keep pace with the demand upon my knowledge. I tell him it as a story, and he reads it himself afterward. We are halfway through St. John. What are you laughing at?"
The tone of intense irritation pulled Mrs. Cary up short in the midst of a loud fit of laughter.
"I'm sorry, my dear," she apologized, "but you really must admit it's rather funny."