Mildred had cared little for that while it went on, but it vexed her now that this woman, for whom, principally on Ada's account, she began to feel a decided dislike, should have it in her power thus to spoil the enjoyment of others; and she determined that it should not be.
Raising her voice that all might hear, she told an amusing anecdote that set everybody to laughing except the "schoolma'am," whose increasing solemnity of aspect seemed to reprove their levity.
"Oh, that was first-rate! do tell us another," cried Rhoda Jane, holding her sides. "I had no idea you could be so funny."
Mildred went on with anecdotes, jests, conundrums, Claudina and one or two others contributing their quota also, till with the ruder ones the mirth became somewhat boisterous.
As it died down again, Miss Drybread spoke.
"Life, permit me to observe to you all, is too serious and solemn to be spent in laughing and joking. Allow me to say, Miss Keith, that I am astonished that you, a church member, should indulge in such frivolity."
"Do you think a Christian should always wear a long face, ma'am?" asked Mildred, saucily, her tell-tale countenance showing all too plainly the contempt and aversion she felt for her self-constituted censor.
"Yes; I think that folks that profess that they've got religion ought to be grave and sober, and let the world see that they don't belong to it."
"As if there was any harm in innocent mirth!" exclaimed Mildred, "as if there was anybody in the world with so good a right to be glad and happy as one who knows that Jesus loves him! 'Rejoice in the Lord, ye righteous and shout for joy all ye that are upright in heart,' The Bible is full of commands to God's people to rejoice, to be glad, to sing for joy; and the best Christians I know seem to me the happiest people on earth."