“I rather think you’re right,” he said reassuringly. “I’m not sure I know how to find the theatrical page. Would you mind looking?”
But Flora interrupted here. She entered the room with the air of one who has blessings to bestow.
“You’re invited to go to Sunday-school with us after a while,” she informed the guest.
“You’re very kind, I’m sure. What’s it like?”
“Oh, there are children, and music, and—” Flora paused. She wished to make her statement attractive as well as truthful.
“A kind of spectacle?” suggested the guest.
“Hardly that. But there’s somebody to tell stories. It’s very nice, I think.”
“It certainly sounds good to me. If they’ve got any good people I might like to get into it, until I find an opening in my own line.”
Mr. Baron removed his glasses again. “Flora, would you undertake to tell me what she means?” he inquired.
Miss Baron pinched her lips and looked at him with a kind of ripple of joy in her eyes. “Isn’t it plain?” she asked. She went out of the room then, and he heard her laughing somewhere in the distance.