"One of our school-mates, father; who, hearing another say that she was sorry to quit school, went through the house the day we were dismissed, asking each one confidentially, 'Are you sorry you're a-goin to turn out?' grief at such an event being, in her code, a more heinous sin than to dance at a funeral."
"Who was she?" asked Arthur.
"Miss Pratt—Celestia Pratt."
"Daughter of the member from A——?"
"The same—what do you know of her?"
"I met her once at a ball," he replied.
"Were you introduced?" cried both girls in a breath.
"Yes; and danced with her."
"Enough!" said Carry. "We will not pursue the subject."
"As you please," he returned; "but if I am not mistaken, as Sir Roger says, though with a different meaning, 'much could be said on both sides.'"