"Carolina, child, what did you think when you heard what Flower said about little Arthur?"
"I thought just what you thought, Aunt Angie, at first, then--"
"Then what?"
"Nothing."
"Now, Carol, you were going to say something! What was it? I am sure the thought that I am a comparative stranger to you stopped the words on your lips."
"I am afraid that you wouldn't understand what I was going to say, Aunt Angie, dear, and I don't want to antagonize you. I like you too much."
"Dear child, nothing that your silver tongue could utter could antagonize me after your sweet generosity to my daughter this afternoon. Oh, Carol, don't you think my mother-heart aches at not being able to dress my pretty girl in such fairy fabrics as you showed us? And then to think of your giving her that pink silk! Why, Peachie won't sleep a wink for a week, and I doubt if her mother does, either! Now she can go to the Valentine German in Savannah. You must go, too. I will arrange it. I--but my tongue is running away with me. Tell me what you were going to say."
"Well," said Carolina, hesitatingly, "you have heard that I am a Christian Scientist, haven't you?"
"Yes, dear, I have, and I must say that I deeply regret it. Not that I know anything about it, but--"
"That's the way every one feels who doesn't know about it," cried Carolina, earnestly; "but that is nothing but prejudice which will wear away. Indeed, indeed it will, Aunt Angie."